Neighbor

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Prompt given: Person A just moved into the house next to Person B's, and Person B made Person A a 'welcome new neighbor' pie. They think Person A liked it and keeps bringing more homemade food for them, but Person A doesn't have the heart to tell them the food is terrible.

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I slammed my head down on the counter when I heard my doorbell go off again. It's the fourth time this week, and I know exactly who it is. I quickly reeled back in pain, holding my forehead as I stumbled to the front door.

"Hello Dally!" my new neighbor, Brendon, practically shouted while thrusting another pie at me. This is the fourth one he's given me this week. He hasn't asked for the tins back either, and I'm not sure where he's getting all of these supplies from. I would appreciate the effort and the food, except the pies are terrible. They're absolutely awful. I tried to get Tyler and Josh, my other neighbors, to eat them yesterday while they were over, and Tyler almost cried. I'm almost glad he hasn't asked for the tins back, as I haven't gotten the heart to throw away the gooey messes he's given me, and I fear it would hurt his feelings to see that I hadn't eaten them.

"Hello, Brendon. I thought I asked you not to call me that every time you've said it this week," I responded, raising an eyebrow at the pie he was trying to hand me the entire time I was speaking, "What flavor is it today?"

Brendon shrugged, moving past me to walk into my house and set it on my counter. "I don't remember. Do you mind if I eat it with you today?" He said, ignoring my remark about the nickname he gave me as soon as I told him my name.

"Oh. That's alright, I guess." I responded, internally fearing how this would go. I couldn't eat this pie. I already have a weak stomach, and I'm pretty sure half of the things in these pies aren't supposed to be eaten in this manner. I think the last one was supposed to be pecan, but it was practically all oil. He hasn't stopped giving me food, ever since I moved in around a week ago, but this is the first time he's asked to eat with me.

He sat down and took the foil off the top of the pie, and I looked at him suspiciously. It almost looked... good? The crust was a normal color instead of the weird green it was 3 days ago, or a charcoal black. There was also something carved into the crust, and it looked suspiciously like a phone number. I raised my eyebrow at Brendon, and he blushed and looked at his feet, mumbling something along the lines of 'Pete is so dead when I get back home'.

"Did you even make this one?" I ask, poking at it with a fork that I grabbed off the table while grabbing my phone to put the number in. Might need it in an emergency. Brendon is also quite cute, but I'd like to pretend that's not my reasoning for keeping his number.

"No. I haven't made any of these. My friend Pete made all of them except for this one, which his boyfriend, Patrick, made. I'm assuming Patrick didn't carve my phone number into it though. Doesn't seem like something he'd do."

"Please tell Pete he's an awful cook."

"I'm aware of that."

"Are you trying to poison me?"

Brendon looked panicked, and he looked at me with a worried expression before dismissively waving his hands.

"Of course not! I just think you're really cute and I wanted to get your attention, but I think giving you garbage in a pie tin is the worst possible way I could've done that. I'm an idiot. Shit."

He said this all in about three seconds, but I got the gist of what he was trying to tell me, and I started laughing. He gave me a suspicious look.

"There are easier ways you could have done that, starting by maybe trying to have actual conversations with me instead of trying to possibly murder me."

"Oh."

"Here, we can start over. I'm Dallon Weekes, would you like to go out for coffee sometime?"

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