“Is she though?” Junie giggles. “I think she’s kinda adorable. Those dangly earrings were killer.”
I pretend to be fully preoccupied with the boiling pot of water in front of me. “Didn’t notice.”
“Sure you didn’t,” she snorts. “If Grandma or Jordan were here, they’d be on the side of true style. Why am I not with them by the way?” she adds, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Grandma’s busy, school’s Monday, and you get to stay with the fun uncle who breaks all the rules.” I point my index finger at my own face.
“True,” Junie smiles. “Thanks for coming to my game by the way.”
My chest puffs out. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
She stretches her neck to glance at my culinary creation. “Need help?”
“A salad?”
She wrinkles her nose. “I’d rather lick the floor.”
I cackle. “Perfect. Mac ’n’ cheese it is.”
While I drain noodles and wage war on the cheese sauce, my mind keeps drifting to my naked neighbor. Junie might have a point—I was acting suspicious, she was protective. Brave, even. Tomorrow I’ll check the porch steps for rogue nails. One wrong move and Junie or Moon could face-plant—I have zero doubts about her future recurring visits.
The rest of the house is half-furnished chaos. Four bedrooms but only the primary bedroom is set up. I swap the sheets, toss the old couch downstairs, and vow to order a mattress—because my bones can’t handlefloor-surfing after thirty, and I’m not foisting that on Junie or Mom or Sis when they inevitably descend to visit their wayward child.
Junie came downstairs to get a glass of warm milk I had ready for her—it should have been strawberry, her favorite, but my neighbor stole it from us.
It’s funny how much comfort Junie finds in her cozy ritual. She always loved milk when she was a baby, but now she uses it when sleeping in new places or when she feels anxious. I knew she’d come down eventually and had it ready for her.
It’s past midnight, and I still can’t sleep. Exhausted after a previous sleepless night, I should be out the moment my head touches the pillow. But I’m awake, counting dots on the ceiling.
When I know I won’t be sleeping anytime soon, I decide to go outside to get some fresh air in the hopes oxygen will knock me out.
The air is chilly, October is approaching, and nights are even colder. I have no idea how my witchy neighbor was able to withstand the temperature wearing nothing at all. Well, except her hair. Her very bright red hair that makes her look like an actual witch.
Fuck, I groan to myself. I wish I could say I didn’t notice anything because I was too pissed, but it’s not true. I noticed a lot, so did my body. Especially her damn perky nipples, reacting to the cold and poking from between her hair strands.
I carefully plant my butt on the swing when I hear a quiet sniffle. During the daytime, I wouldn’t have heard it, but in the quiet of night, it’s very loud. I glance around and find a red head peeking from the top of the railing on my neighbor’s porch.
Quickly disregarding the sound, I go back to observing the night.
Only to hear the sound again. Quieter this time. But my ears are attuned now, I know what to expect.
Sighing, I ask, knowing she’ll hear me.
“What happened?”
She stiffens. “I’m not crying.”
“That’s not what I asked. What happened?”
“Nothing.” Her voice is quiet. Weak.
I don’t need that right now. I don’t need a pretty, crying neighbor in the middle of the night.
But still, I find myself rising to my feet and walking toward her house. She’s sitting on the top step, wearing a long white dress and a blanket around her slender frame. Her hair falls over her shoulders in a wild mess. It’s not braided or picked in a ponytail, and I suddenly want to tug on it. Fuck me, she’s truly a witch if she’s causing such thoughts in me, and oddly it doesn’t bother me as much as I expected it to.
When she sees me approaching, she arches a brow with a silent question.
“Make room,” I request grouchily as if it’s her fault I’m finding myself on her porch. Which it kind of is. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
