Page 19 of We Are Just Us

Rory turned around instantly, hands up. “I swear I wasn’t trying to see your whole…situation.”

“Fantastic,” Kieran said, grabbing the toy and holding it like it was a legal document. “Because this is not how I normally enjoy a backyard.”

Behind Rory, the toddler laughed again, delighted.

Rory glanced over his shoulder, still facing away. “She thinks this is the best thing that’s happened all day.”

Hank barked.

Kieran sighed. “He will be riding this high for weeks.”

Rory laughed, and it did something deeply inconvenient to Kieran.

“Sorry,” Rory said. “Clearly she’s a bad influence.”

“It’s fine,” Kieran said. “I usually greet neighbors fully clothed, but I like to keep things unpredictable, apparently.”

Rory shook his head, still smiling. “You’ve definitely made an impression.”

“Mission accomplished,” Kieran said.

Rory reached back over the fence, accepting the toy without turning around. “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to return this to its rightful owner and pretend this entire sequence of events did not happen.”

“That sounds great. Healthy neighbor boundaries,” Kieran said.

Rory paused, then glanced back long enough to smirk. “For what it’s worth…you run fast.”

Kieran groaned. “Please leave.”

Rory disappeared back into his yard as the dogs barreled inside like nothing extraordinary had occurred.

Kieran stood there naked, breathless, and quite aware that whatever he thought he knew about his neighbor Rory Kline had shifted.

Shower. Now. Then memory wipe, if possible.

Next door, the toddler laughed again—utterly pleased with herself.

And Hank wagged his tail like a criminal who had no regrets.

The water went from hot to punishing in under ten seconds.

Kieran cranked the handle until it bordered on aggressive, steam already blooming against the tile, erasing evidence. He stepped under it without hesitation, gasping when it hit his shoulders, welcoming the sting.

The water poured down his back, over his neck, his hair plastering to his face. He braced his hands against the wall and let his head drop forward, breathing through the heat with grim, clinical focus.

The fence. Rory’s face. The pause. The look.

“Oh my god,” Kieran muttered aloud, voice swallowed by the spray.

Why had he chased the dog. Why hadn’t he grabbed a towel. Why did his life insist on staging moments like this with an audience.

His brain, unhelpful and thorough, began inventory.

Was that indecent exposure?

Technically, it was his yard.

But also, fences are porous concepts.