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“Reya.” He nods in greeting. “How’s it going?”
“It’s okay. You?”
“Good,” he says.
Then there’s an uncomfortable silence, because we don’t know how to talk to each other.
“Smells good in there. Dinner?” he asks. I nod. “She tried fish and chips for the first time. She destroyed the plate, and then asked for more.”
I wrinkle my nose and look down at her.
“Fish? Really?”
“Yeah. I like the crunchy part on the outside.”
“Fair enough,” I tell her. “I thought kids were supposed to be picky eaters.”
“Right?” Caleb asks with a chuckle. “I don’t think she’s turned down anything I’ve fed her.”
“Isthere anything you don’t like?” I know she isn’t the biggest fan of some things, but she eats most of it anyway. The blueberries on her plate the other morning come to mind.
“Hmm,” she starts. Her eyes move between us as she thinks. “Green beans.”
We both nod in sync.
“Yeah, that’s–” I lose my train of thought when I hear the familiar sound of footsteps on the stairs.
We do this every Wednesday night, andshe’snever come home this early. I’ve never been worried she’d meet Caleb and piss him off, too.
Dahlia doesn’t register the noise, and she thankfully runs to her room like she remembered something important in there. That’s one bonus of having two homes, it keeps things exciting when she gets the chance to miss her belongings. I’m sure it’s saving me money.
Caleb looks confused when I stop talking, until he peeks over his shoulder. There’s my neighbor, looking…ugh.
She looks so good that I forget to breathe.
I mean, I’m soangrythat I forget to breathe.
Because Idon’tlike her. I might even hate her a little.
She glances in our direction for a brief second, but otherwise ignores us.
“Hi,” Caleb calls out, putting a friendly hand up. She doesn’t respond, and then she disappears through her front door. Like a ghost.
I know ghosts don’t need keys or to bother with turning door knobs, but I’m paying so little attention to the specifics that she might as well have walked right through it without doing a thing.
“She seems nice,” he mutters.
“She might be the devil.”
He scoffs.
“That’s dramatic.”
Every muscle in my body tenses when he says it, that particular word momentarily transporting me back to a time I worked my ass off to heal from.
“Oh, Caleb.” I tisk putting on a brave face. “You lost the privilege of calling me dramatic a long time ago.”
He takes a step back, his eyes widening as he realizes his mistake.
