When I saw her name and address appear on the delivery app, it felt like kismet.I know it might sound strange, but having the safeguard of the delivery app made it easier to start anew and forget about the mistakes of the past.
It’s been five years since I first laid eyes on Sara, yet the memory is still fresh, as if it never left.That summer had been hotter than the Devil’s balls.I’ve lived in Eagleton, Oklahoma, my whole life, and when you’ve been here long enough, you learn to endure the heat and humidity—but she made it harder to ignore.
She wore jean shorts and a white tank top that showed off her dainty frame, wrought with curves in all the right places—places I wanted to sink my teeth into.Literally.The kind of woman wet dreams are made of.I spotted her beside the open moving truck, wrestling boxes into her arms with more determination than skill.
Her short black hair skimmed her shoulders, half pulled back into a loose, careless bun.A few strands escaped, catching the light as she moved.When her deep brown eyes lifted and met mine, it was like gravity locked me in place and I found myself transfixed by her beauty.And then she rewarded me with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.One that seemed to radiate from the inside out.I swear my heart skipped a beat.I should’ve gone over and introduced myself, or offered to help with her boxes.Instead, I stood there like an idiot, staring at a woman so far out of my league we weren’t even in the same galaxy.
A few weeks later, our neighborhood busybody, Sue, decided to hostSunrise on Sundown, a breakfast block party.There was coffee, donuts, bagels, and more pastries than you could imagine.Almost all of the block joined in, and Sue smiled to herself in victory for getting all the new neighbors to join.This area is coveted for its quiet streets and optimal shade-to-sun ratio.Most of the residents have been here for thirty-plus years.I was lucky enough to inherit my house from my grandparents.It’s rare that anyone new and young moves in, which was why Sara’s arrival was such a treat.
I remember the moment I saw her that day.
She’s standing with Mr.Vasquez by the coffee station, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.This girl wouldn’t last five minutes in a casino—she has zero poker face.I could see her boredom from a mile away.To be fair, Mr.Vasquez only has three topics of conversation, and all of them involve his chihuahua.
I make my way over, feigning urgency like I’ve been summoned.
“Hey,” I say, slipping beside Sara, close enough that my arm brushes hers.Electricity zips up my spine at the contact.“There you are.I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Her eyes flick to mine, confused for half a second—then something clicks.Relief softens her expression, and she plays along instantly.“Oh—thank God.”She sighs, a little breathless.“I mean—yes, here I am.”
“Sorry to interrupt.”I flash Mr.Vasquez a faux sympathetic smile.“Sue asked me to gather all the new neighbors’ contacts.You know how she is.”I wink.
Sara nods enthusiastically, clearly desperate to escape this conversation.“Oh yes, I need to get that to her soon so I can be added to the neighborhood watchlist.Wouldn’t want anyone taking the packages off my porch.”
Mr.Vasquez eyes me suspiciously but doesn’t say anything more before he turns to find his next victim.The moment he leaves, Sara exhales like she’s been holding her breath for hours.
“You just saved my life,” she teases, resting her hand on my forearm for a fraction of a second.“I was three seconds away from faking a phone call.”
“Happy to be of service,” I reply.“Chihuahua stories are a dangerous sport.”
She laughs—really laughs—and something warm settles in my chest.
“Coffee?”I ask, nodding toward the machine.
She tilts her head, studying me, eyes bright.“Only if you promise to never leave me alone with Mr.Vasquez.”
“Deal, I’m Dave,” I say, giving her hand a firm shake.“You’re under my protection now.”
Sara and I were inseparable for the rest of the morning.I shared insights about our neighbors with her—okay, we gossiped.I told her about Mr.Bowman and Mrs.Sanders’ ongoing feud over the grass height.Or how Sue’s cat, Socks—who roams the street during the day—acts as if he’s starving.Lastly, I warned her about the HOA’s strict policy requiring trash cans be returned from the curb on the same day as pick-up.
We flirted, laughed, and maybe touched a bit more than friendly neighbors should.By the end ofSunrise on Sundown, I could tell she was expecting me to ask for her number, but I was too chickenshit to do it.I made up a fake excuse about getting a message from my sister and left before she could even say goodbye.I know—it was a cowardly move.
I set the reusable bags neatly in front of her door—but not close enough that it blocks it from opening—snap a picture for proof, and ring the doorbell.I consider staying and reintroducing myself, but think better of it.There’s only so much semi-creepy shit I can do in one day withoutactuallybeing a creep.I already overstepped with the oat milk and astrology questions.
I back away from her house, I make theincrediblylong thirty-second drive across the street to my own place.As I step onto my porch, I tell myself not to, but I glance back anyway, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, only to find the groceries still untouched on her porch.
2
SARA
An annoyingly cheery, twinkling sound wakes me from sleep.Damn it.I fell asleep with my stupid red light mask on again.The slight warmth coming from theJason-esque mask makes me feel like a kitten in a sunbeam.
Being a streamer who’s awake all night means keeping up with a very rigorous ten-step Korean skincare routine to make sure I’m not caught looking like a zombie in front of six million people.
Six.Million.It’s still absolutely wild to me considering it all started on a whim with my ex-boyfriend—he who shall not be named.Now here I am, playing for a global audiencenightly.Most of them are here for my skills, but the comments on my stream make it pretty obvious that some viewers only stick around for the skimpy outfits andaccidentallysuggestive camera angles.If that’s what pays my bills, I’ll absolutely exploit the thirst.Within reason, of course.
After last night’s extra-late session—and the jump scare I gave myself when I saw the noticeable bags under my eyes, plus my jet-black hair piled into an overly messy topknot—I decided that today I was in need of a littleextrapampering.
If I swear loyalty to anything in this world, it’s sunscreen and snail mucin, but one of my viewers is a dermatology student and suggested adding red-light therapy to my routine three times a week, so that’s exactly what I did.After two weeks, I can already see the benefits—my skin is noticeably clearer.
