The Neighbour

THREE

He slowly peels his fingers away and upon seeing my towel, launches headfirst into an apology. "Oh, god! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I didn't—Why are you laughing?"

I can't help it.

"Anastasia, why are you laughing?"

"Because" I begin, unable to hold my amusement in any longer. "My therapist told me it could take years before I'm ready to get naked in front of another man."

He cringes.

"And I just unintentionally did it in less than a month."

He stares at me a moment before joining me in laughter. It feels insane to be giggling over something that—I'll be honest—I've been dreading for quite some time now. I have a habit of building things up in my head beforehand, which only ever seems to succeed in making things ten times worse. Freddie—and his pizza—just obliterated that in less than five seconds. And I know it's not the same. Having someone see you naked by accident and see you naked in a sexual light are two completely different situations. But it's a step in the right direction.

"Are those for us?" I question, pointing to the items he left behind in his rush to make sure I was alright.

"Yes," he replies, retrieving them. "Your ransom."

I accept the wine, and gesture for him to follow me into the kitchen with the pizza.

"I don't have wine glasses yet," I explain, opening up a cupboard door. "But I do have fancy coffee mugs."

For a machine that hasn't arrived yet!

"Wine in a mug tastes better anyway," he insists, smirking. "Plates?"

"None of those either," I reply.

He locates my kitchen roll and tears off two pieces. "Never mind. We're adapting."

I have a feeling he means that in more ways than one, but I don't question him.

"Cheers," I say, handing him a mug.

"To becoming neighbours," he adds, clinking his wine with mine.

I take a sip, enjoying the fruity taste. I don't usually drink red wine but today is all about throwing caution to the wind. I figure if I can flash my hot neighbour, I can at least drink the wine he brought around for milk ransom.

"Do you like it here?" he questions, gaze travelling around the room.

I imagine it's practically empty in comparison to his and immediately feel embarrassed.

"Yeah. The walls are a bit thin, though."

His smirk is the cheekiest thing to have ever graced this earth.

"Do you?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I suppose so."

His response is a little vague, but I don't feel confident enough to press for more information. Freddie is self-assured. Cheeky. But every now and then, he'll show bursts of vulnerability and I'm desperate to dig deeper.

"Oh, I forgot to ask..." I begin, placing my mug on the kitchen counter. "How's James doing?"

At the mention of his brother, Freddie beams. "Great. He got engaged a few months ago."

"Well, I'm not surprised," I admit. "I don't think I've ever met a couple more in love than those two."

His fiancé—Sloan, I think—hardly slept the entire time he was comatose.

"Yeah, they're pretty damn solid," he agrees.

We're silent for a moment, both of us lost in thought.