Too Fine

Meeting the Neighbors

Becca had timed her move-in date so that she was not teaching an early morning class the next day, but she still fell into bed before ten o'clock out of habit. She did spend a couple of messages texting her group of friends, but only "the Js" messaged back. Jen and Jamie both sent "thumbs up" emojis and Jen added a few suggestive eggplant emojis, because that was how Jen rolled. Whether it was a suggestion for Becca to go find a one night stand or enjoy personal pleasure toys, she didn't know, and didn't ask. Melissa and Rachel didn't respond to any of it, but they both had younger kids and Becca did not expect to hear from them until after they had dropped everyone off at school the next morning.

Turning off the lights and putting her phone away, Becca stretched out in bed with a sigh, expecting a restless night due to being a strange place on a new bed. Instead, she dropped off asleep almost immediately, her body and mind taking advantage of the serene solitude.

Becca had spent the last six months renting a small room from her friend Sally, which had been better and cheaper than an extended stay hotel. What it wasn't was very restful, since Sally was a very popular twenty-something events manager who had people over to visit and party every night of the week. Becca enjoyed the change while she was there, because it was such a different world than the stifling, boring house she had kept with her husband for so many years. By dint of her job, Sally was friends with a wide swath of the creative, bohemian crowd that included young musicians, old painters, student poets, and bar staff.

She was also glad to have her own place at last, somewhere she could unpack everything that had been in storage for too long.

The early bed time meant waking up early, regardless of whether she had a class at the yoga studio or not. She opened her eyes to the morning sun creeping in through the curtain-less blinds, highlighting the boxes strewn across her bedroom floor and the blank beige walls. It was saved from being a depressing reminder of how she was starting over at forty-two by dint of the fact that she was getting a fresh start and the opportunity to create the life she had (in lonely moments during her marriage) dreamed of.

She rolled out of bed slowly, savoring the fact that she was in her own home and that nothing she did would affect anyone else. Walking out naked into the main living/kitchen area, she stood brazenly in the middle of the space, inspecting it. The building was an old Victorian hotel that had somehow gotten through the 20th century mostly intact, despite several makeovers. Becca's apartment was two, possibly three tiny hotel rooms fused into one small flat. Her bathroom shared a wall with the kitchenette and was only big enough for a skinny shower stall. She missed the huge soaking tub of the master bathroom at her ex-husband's house, but even so the trade off was worth it.

Deciding she was making things weird by standing around naked and sentimental, she put a pot of coffee on -- her first real household purchase made a week before in hopeful anticipation of her first morning on her own -- and dressed in her yoga pants and a sports bra. Doing a yoga session first thing in the morning was her favorite habit, and she relaxed into the routine of it even when the poses were challenging.

She was coming out of the final set, her knees complaining just enough for her to play it safe, when she heard the clattering of someone dropping something heavy, followed by a loud curse from a man who sounded like he was on his last nerve. Becca had been told by the property management representative that the apartment across from hers belonged to an artist, giving the word the same inflection as might be said of pond scrum. Becca had wondered at the time why the rep bothered to rent to the guy at all.

When she opened the door, she suspected she knew why: her neighbor was six foot plus of blond Adonis, muscled and perfectly proportioned with a strong jaw but soft lips and long, long eye lashes. He was in sweat pants and a tee shirt, neither of which were lose enough to hide any of his very pronounced assets. Not that Becca was looking. Because she wasn't. At all.

"You all right?" She asked, trying to be neighborly although she suspected she was just being nosy.

He looked over at her in surprise, his crystal blue eyes widening, but he stood frozen in place. Becca looked down and saw a huge bag of dog food on the floor, busted open, with kibble pouring out of the ripped bag.

"Oh, what a mess." She looked back up at him, cringing because she knew how lame she sounded.

"Didn't know the place was rented." He frowned at her. His voice was soft but deep, as beautiful as the rest of him. Becca's inner teenage girl sighed melodramatically but she managed to keep a straight face.

"Just moved in." She waved a hand around, trying to convey the idea that she was new.

He gave her the most adorable, sheepish grin she had ever seen. She wondered if he was really a Labrador puppy in disguise, because he had the look down.

"Sorry about the noise, dropped the bag."

Becca nodded, figuring that was that and moving to close her door when he stepped up. "Andrew Buchanan." He held out his hand.

"Becca Novak." Becca shook it, his large, warm hand enveloping hers. She ignored the rocking sensation in her gut, because he was twenty-five if he was a day and also "some kind of artist." She was completely, totally not interested.

Behind them a muffled barking started up in his apartment. Andrew laughed, letting go and bouncing his keys in his hand. "Duty calls!" He gave her a sloppy salute and went to open his door. "Shut up, Fred! I'm comin' in!"

Becca closed her door, admonishing herself for staring at his (perfect, round, firm) ass. She had too much to do, and she was in no place and no age to humor a crush on a guy like that. She would definitely be texting the girls about him, though. There were rules, especially about hot next door neighbors.