The Voyeur Next Door (28 page)

Now, I had seen a great number of skinny girls in my day. I knew how to recognize those who never ate to maintain that level of thinness. But Ali wasn’t one of them. She clearly ate, or I would know. So I couldn’t understand what the problem was.

As though sensing my eyes on her, she peeked over through dusky lashes. Green eyes bore into mine, unwavering, unflinching, and filled with everything I was fighting like hell to suppress.

“Didn’t you bring pie?”

She looked momentarily surprised by my question, but she recovered quickly and nodded. “Yes.”

“I love pie,” I said, never breaking eye contact.

“Pie!” Mom said excitedly. “Yes, pie would be amazing with this wine. Gabriel, why don’t you go cut it up for everyone?”

I rose without question.

“Why don’t you give me a hand?”

She hesitated, but gingerly set her wine down and rose. I waited until she’d passed me before following her into the kitchen.

“I’m not really hungry for pie—”

I grabbed her around the waist, just above her hips and I dragged her back into me with just enough force to show her I was in charge. Her palpable gasp fueled my hunger. It tightened my grip on her. It was still not the right place to do what I wanted, but we were out of eye shot and that was enough for now.

“Neither am I,” I growled into her ear, walking her forcibly to the table. “Are you a pyro, Ali? Do you like playing with fire?”

“What—?”

I took her by the wrists and pinned her hands palm down on the flat surface, far enough away from her body so she was bent forward and I was curved into her back.

“Don’t!” I hissed, letting the warning crackle in my voice. “Don’t pretend like you have no idea what I’m talking about. I’ve been playing this game for so much longer.” I kicked her feet apart. “And I am much better at it.”

“Gabriel…”

My intentions were to shock her, maybe even scare her enough to stop looking at me like she was picturing us fucking. But the moment I had her in my grasp, had her pert little backside settled perfectly over my throbbing erection, I forgot all about the plan. There was nothing but the snarling beast urging me to take what she was so eagerly offering, what she had already proclaimed as mine.

“Is this what you want?” I pushed my bulge harder into the crevice of her ass. The heat of her core burned through our layers to singe me. “Were you hoping I would follow you into the bathroom, bend you over the sink, and fuck you?” I closed my hand into her hair and dragged her head back as far as possible without hurting her. “Answer me!”

Her panting drove me crazy. It made me want to take a knife to her clothes and then spend the night beating five years of sexual frustration into her pussy.

“Yes,” she gasped, rocketing me back to the present. “I want you.”

“Me, or Q?”

Her hesitation spoke before she did. “Q.”

Waves lapped over me in a white hot surge of fury that stunned even me for a moment. I couldn’t believe I was actually jealous of myself. It was insane, but I was. I hated that she wanted a fictional part of me over the real me. Like I wasn’t good enough. Part of me wanted to take her anyway, just to prove I could satisfy her like Q never could, which was also insane. I did, however, know that had she chosen me, I would have taken her home that very night and never let her go.

“Q is gone,” I bit out, shoving away from her. “He’s not coming back, and if he’s the one you want between those legs, stop looking to me to make it happen, because I can only give you me and if that’s not enough … I can’t help you.”

I walked out before I could change my mind.

Ali

Mortified. Disgusted. Ashamed.

I couldn’t list enough words to describe my level of self-loathing. My behavior the night before was one I would have expected from a whore, or a dog in heat. Not from someone who had gone four years without sex and survived. What was worse, I had flat out told Gabriel it wasn’t him I wanted, but I still wanted him to fuck me. The insanity of that alone made me want to bash my brains in. I didn’t blame him at all for smacking me down. I deserved it. But what kept me up that night wasn’t my behavior, it was him not giving me a chance to explain. By the time I had returned to the living room with pie, he had already left. I had stayed another hour so as not to be rude before making my own departure, but the guilt had eaten me alive the whole night. The only consolation was the knowledge that I would see him in the morning and hopefully he’d let me explain.

I arrived at work promptly at eight. The garage doors were open and the construction crew were already hard at work rebuilding the wall. I ignored them. My gaze was already sifting through the faces in search of one. My heart jumped when I spotted him.

He was half buried beneath the hood of a station wagon parked in the third bay, the last bay from the group. He wore his mechanic’s jumpsuit with his filthy boots, but I knew he had jeans and a white t-shirt on underneath. His hands were blackened all the way to his forearms as he took a wrench to the engine. Nervous, my fingers tightened around my purse as I moved closer.

“Gabriel?”

He stopped his tinkering and glanced up. His expression was closely guarded, but at least he hadn’t turned me away.

“Hi.” I tried to smile only to have it slip into nothing. “Can I talk to you, please?”

He turned back to the engine, started to twist the wrench, but stopped. He sighed heavily, released the tool and straightened. He faced me. I had his full attention.

I drew in a breath, as deep as I could before speaking.

“I’m sorry about last night. It was wrong of me to do what I did and I honestly have no excuse. It was…” I shook my head slowly, cheeks hot enough to shame the sun. “Disgusting how I acted and I don’t blame you for the things you said. You were right.”

“Ali—”

I put my hand up, stopping him. “Please. I need to finish.” At his nod, I continued. “I know Q is you and you are Q and you’re the same person, but you’re not. At least, not to me. When I think of you, I think hard, angry, and someone who was doesn’t want me around. When I think of Q, I think funny, sweet, caring, and passionate. He understood me and accepted me.” I nibbled hard on my lip when it threatened to tremble. “And he wanted me.”

A deep line formed between Gabriel’s brows, knitting them together over darkened eyes that seemed to be drilling into my soul.

“And I don’t?” he said tightly.

“You said you didn’t,” I reminded him. “All the time.”

“No!” He tore out a dirty rag from his pocket and twisted it around his hands, cracking bones in the vicious attack to wipe off the grease. “I said I didn’t want you here, in the shop.”

His implication had my heart galloping heedlessly into notions and longings I would never come back from. It ignored my head’s warning to stop. It didn’t seem to care that it was heading straight for a cliff.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,” I whispered at last. “We both agreed that it was over and I promise last night will never happen again. We’ll carry on as we have been and pretend none of this ever happened.”

Insides in agony as though I’d swallowed broken glass, I turned away before he could see just how badly it hurt to look at him. I couldn’t believe how seamlessly he had gone from being the asshole who made my temper flare to the man I couldn’t get out of my head. I partially couldn’t help hating myself for not being strong enough to forget him the way I managed to forget Tony. I had barely felt anything when he’d walked away and we were together a year. I’d known Gabriel a month and already he had crawled so far beneath my skin that I could barely function properly. What hurt the most was the fact that I lost the one person who actually understood me in the process.

I spent the next two weeks acting like the sight of Gabriel didn’t cut me up inside. I went to work every day, did my job, and went home to wander an empty apartment. Even my neighbor watching lacked its usual thrill. I missed Q. I missed sharing my hobby with him. I missed hearing his voice, which was ridiculous, because I talked to Gabriel every day about one thing or another. Several times, because I had no life, I logged into the chatroom just to see if he was there, but he never was.

By the third week, I came to the soul crushing realization that I was obsessing and heading down a path reserved for crazy, controlling ex-girlfriends; Gabriel didn’t want me, I needed to come to terms with that and let go, especially when it seemed like I was the only one hurting. It didn’t help that he was always there like a sick reminder. But that was to be expected when you worked with someone. It was why work relationships were such a bad idea.

Lesson learned.

The night of Tamara’s play, I dressed carefully in an outfit that would be comfortable and sensible for a high school. I had never been to one before, so I wasn’t sure how fancy one dressed up for such an event. I figured it wasn’t the opera, so I went with a sleeveless, black dress, black heels over black stockings and a silver belt. On a whim, I curled my hair and applied a light coat of makeup, mainly around my eyes. All in all, I could be going anywhere and would still look fine. Unless it really was the opera.

I left my purse at home, but stuffed my credit card, driver’s license, lip gloss, and cell phone into a small clutch purse. The weightlessness of it was unsettling, but I let it go as I hurried out of the apartment to my car.

Tamara had texted me a week before to let me know she had reserved me a seat and that I could get the ticket at the doors. I wasn’t sure if I needed ID and prayed I wouldn’t have to drag Tamara out to vouch for me.

For a high school play, the streets leading up to the school were insane. Cars lined almost three blocks, circling like vultures over a dead carcass. The building itself was lit up like Time Square. Against the evening backdrop, it appeared to shimmer like some fairy castle. I would have been impressed if I wasn’t busy trying not to ram into the car in front of me for going five kilometers an hour.

It took fifteen minutes, but I found a parking spot three blocks from the school. I cut the engine, grabbed my purse, and the bouquet of black roses I had specially ordered for Tamara and ran—it was more like walked really fast in five inch heels—to the school. I was panting by the time I climbed the steps and shouldered my way to the table guarding the way in.

“Hi,” I said, trying to regulate between talking and breathing without wheezing. “I have a ticket on hold under Ali.”

The shrewd little girl with too many freckles and not enough facial expressions stared at me, all judgy and skeptical.

“Ali what?” she demanded with a mouth full of twisted wires.

“Seriously?” I ventured. “You think I’m going to crash a high school play by stealing someone else’s ticket? How many Ali’s could you possibly have on your list?”

Green eyes narrowed behind thin rimmed glasses. “Are you going to answer, or do I have to call security?”

I didn’t know what part of that surprised me more, her attitude, or that they had security at a high school play.

“You have security? What? Are you showcasing the Hope Diamond?”

“Bob!”

Her unexpected shriek made me jump. My head jerked up just as a short, round boy with rosy cheeks and soft, curly brown hair hobbled to the table. He folded his arms and stared at me. Hard.

“Is there a problem?”

“Wow!” I said, seriously impressed. “Things just got real, huh?”

“Ma’am, do you have a ticket?”
Bob
asked in a gruff tone that was clearly forced to make him sound tougher than he was.

“Ma’am?” I started to laugh, but caught myself, because Bob didn’t seem amused. “Eckrich.” I turned back to the girl “Ali Eckrich.”

Devil Spawn folded her hands on the table. “Do you have ID, Ali Eckrich?”

And people wondered why I hated children.

I dug into my purse, all the while staring at Devil Spawn with the full force of my death glare, and unearthed my driver’s license. I passed it over for inspection. Devil Spawn took a damn long time examining it. I could hear the people behind me mumbling and shifting restlessly.

“Fine.” My license was returned. “You can go in.”

I blinked. “That’s it?”

Devil Spawn shrugged. “You’re on the list. See? Middle aisle, seat twenty seven. Follow the arrows.”

She pointed to my name on a clipboard alongside several other names and seat numbers.

“So why…?”

I decided not to get into it. There was a good chance I would strangle the little brat and there were too many witnesses.

I left and followed the bright, red arrows taped to the wall all the way to a large theater. The dome shaped chamber sunk deep with rows upon rows of plastic, orange seats. Straight ahead, thick, red curtains fell over the stage. All around me, people bustled, rushing to get to their seats before the show began. It took me a moment longer to figure out how the rows were labeled. Someone had gone through a great deal of trouble to slap handwritten numbers on the backs of each seat. I had to push my way through the masses to the center row and make my way down to seat twenty seven.

“Ali!”

Earl waved at me from his seat, which was sandwiched between Beatrice and … Gabriel. On Beatrice’s other side was Jonas and Lydia. My seat, seat number twenty seven, was on Gabriel’s right.

Awesome.

Forcing a smile, I made my way forward.

“Hi!” I pulled my seat down and propped my butt into it before it could fold up again. “Have you guys seen Tamara yet?” I asked, talking around Gabriel. “Is she excited?”

“She could barely sit still all afternoon,” Earl said, chuckling.

“What a lovely arrangement!” Beatrice said, eyeing my bouquet. “I’ve never seen black roses before.”

I chuckled. “Right? Me neither, but apparently they’re quite common. Go figure.”

“You didn’t have to get those, Ali,” Lydia said, leaning forward in her seat.

“I know, but it’s Tamara’s big night so…”

Lydia smiled. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

With no one else saying anything, I had no reason to continue ignoring the man taking up most of the armrest. I drew in a shot of air to calm my nerves and turned to him. My heart jumped in my chest to find him already watching me.

“Hello,” I said, forcing my smile to appear neutral and friendly.

He looked beautiful in his jeans and long sleeved shirt. His hair was still damp and curled around his ears and the back of his collar. I tried not to stare, but I knew I was.

“Hi. You look—”

I never got to find out how I looked when a shadow draped over my back and a familiar voice called out my name.

“Carl! Hi!”

The blond dropped into the seat on my opposite side, all the while beaming at me.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good! Thank you. How are you?”

He shrugged, wiggling higher in his seat. “Can’t complain.” He gave me the once more. “You look … phenomenal!”

Heat swelled beneath my cheeks. “Thank you.”

I sat back and rested my purse and flowers into my lap.

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” Carl pointed out.

I touched my face out of habit. “Yeah, I lost them, which was the perfect excuse to start wearing my contacts.”

He nodded like that made sense. “Well, you look great either way.”

Uncomfortably aware of the man on my left, I just smiled.

Thankfully, the play took that moment to begin. The buzz of chatter dimmed as the lights did. The curtains were drawn back and the stage lights snapped on to halo Tamara, center stage in her costume and chunky boots. I thought her choice in footwear really made the getup. It was just so her, unique and bold and dancing to the beat of her own drum. Alyssa, Tamara’s arch nemesis, played Odile, the black swan, which I found somehow symbolic and kind of funny. The pair were incredible together. They held the entire audience under their spell. I was almost sad to see it end.

The theater exploded in cheers and applause. Everyone leaped to their feet as the curtains dropped and reopened as Tamara took her bow, followed by the cast and crew. The best part, in my opinion, was when Tamara and Alyssa had to hold hands and bow together. It lasted all of five seconds before the pair parted and stalked off in opposite directions.

“I can’t believe it’s been four hours already!” I said as the house lights flared back on and people began gathering up to leave.

“Right?” Carl agreed, getting to his feet next to me. “All the kids did an amazing job.” He tugged on his coat. “Are you going to the after party?” That was news to me. No one had mentioned an after party. “All the cast families are invited.”