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One

Ava

My body shook in my sleep, begging to be awakened from yet another nightmare. Somewhere in my subconscious, I knew this was a dream. I knew it wasn’t real, but I still couldn’t wake up.

“Ava, I swear to God, you better run.”

“I… I didn’t mean to!” I whimpered, sliding back against the carpet until my back hit the wall.

“You didn’t mean to break the TV?!?” My dad yelled, spit landing on my face.

“No… I… Please!”

“What did you think would happen running in my fucking house? You want to run so bad? Then run. If I catch you, I’m going to make it hurt. Fucking bitch.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact. But it never came; instead, I heard a bang. Over and over again.

My eyes flew open, my breath coming in short pants. Sweat dripped down my forehead, sticking my hair to my face.

“Ava! Open the door!”

That voice. The growly, smooth, rich voice that belonged to my neighbor, Tyler.

“Ava, please!”

I rushed out of bed on wobbly legs and walked down the hallway while the banging continued. Opening the door, I peered up into the darkest brown eyes I had ever seen, and they were much darker tonight. They scanned me from head to toe.

“Are you okay? Why were you screaming?”

My cheeks instantly flushed. “You heard that?”

“Yes, what happened?”

“It was just a silly dream. I’m fine.” I wasn’t sure whether I was reassuring him or myself at this point.

His eyes dropped to my chest before going back to my face. Only now did I realize I was wearing a cami and booty shorts. Throwing my arms over my body, I hugged myself tight.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up,” I mumbled.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Ava.” His jaw clenched.

I flinched at his tone, only to fall back into the door. He reached forward to support me, but the second his skin made contact, I let out a slight yelp. Tyler immediately let go, meeting my gaze and furrowing his face. I wanted to reach up and smooth the wrinkles, but I knew that would cause more harm than good.

“I should go back to bed.” I rushed out, slamming the door and locking it before he could answer.

Tyler was easily one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen. His brown hair fell softly onto his forehead, his five o’clock shadow that he always seemed to have, a scar right next to his nose that did nothing but add to his looks. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t watch him out the window while he was doing yard work, hoping he’d take off his shirt and show me his toned muscles. His tanned skin glistened with sweat from all the hard work. But me? I was the weird girl next door who jumped every time someone touched her and couldn’t have a conversation for more than five minutes without freaking out. I did not stand a fucking chance.

He was sweet, nice, and even caring. He radiated an aura of calm and collectedness. We waved at one another more than we talked, and I wasn’t sure if that was due to my inability to talk to other humans or my feelings for him. The times we did talk, he was always respectful; he never pushed me for more than I was willing to give him. Normally our conversations were kept short, more about the weather and him returning my mail that somehow always ended up in his mailbox and not mine. It’s probably weird to have feelings for someone I hardly knew, let alone someone I don’t entirely trust, but here we were.

He knew I lived alone, even though I lied to him when we first met and said I had a boyfriend. No one comes over here, and I rarely leave the house unless it’s for work. But he’s never called me out on it. He’s never made me feel uncomfortable. He appeared safe, and I really wanted him to be.

Most of my thoughts these days seem to be about him, the way he always went to work dressed in a suit that appeared to be tailored specifically for him. He looked just as good with or without a shirt. Just thinking about him now made me want to touch myself. I promised myself the last time was actually the last, but I was starting to become obsessed with the man next door.

Some days I had hoped that my mail went to him so he had an excuse to talk to me. I knew I could be the one to start the conversation, but my brain was broken, and he made me flustered. I even had his phone number from a couple of months back when he went on vacation. He had asked me to collect his mail and, if anything had happened at the duplex, to let him know. But I’ve never been brave enough to text him.

Refusing to give in to the pleasure, I decided to go to the couch and turn on the TV. It always took me a while to be able to go back to sleep after a nightmare, if I even tried. Sometimes it was easier to be tired and miserable than to have another dream like that.

There wasn’t anything good on, but the noise was preferable to solitude. I wish I could be normal and be able to talk about deeper things with Tyler and actually hold a conversation with him. Tell him why it’s happening and how fucking lonely I feel. But what could he do? He was just my neighbor, who probably thought I was insane, and he’d be right. There was nothing normal about me.