Chapter 1
Elliott’s just a girl. At least, she wishes she was just a girl. After a run of bad luck, dangerous consequences to poor decisions, and a move across the country, she comes across someone that seems too good to be true, but also really fucking annoying. Terrell agrees to a friends with benefits situation with Elliott, thinking he’s given up on love and having a family, this scenario sounds like a great way to get off without getting hurt in the process. These two take the friends part of the friends with benefits seriously, which makes avoiding attachment and emotions difficult.
1
Aggressively, I dropped the box I was carrying onto a stack of other boxes full of my shit in my new living room. I think that was the last one, thank fucking god. All I’m thinking about is laying down and sleeping for a week. Moving into a three story townhome by myself was more of a bitch than I thought, though it was adorable and the perfect place to call home. With a groan of both fatigue and frustration, I head down the stairs to let my dog, Tom, inside since I’m officially done unloading and no longer have the doors wide open. While Tom is quite loyal and obsessed with me (he would never wander off), I didn’t want to risk tripping on him since he’s constantly under my feet despite being 60 pounds.
Tom follows me willingly to my new bedroom where I collapse on the floor for a solid rest. My bed frame is in a box, my mattress leaned up against the wall. The sofa is in the living room, but the cushions are scattered about. All things considered, I probably should have just put the bed or the couch together and had a comfortable place to rest, but I can’t be bothered. Anything feels better after hours of moving heavy boxes and furniture up stairs. Tom curls up by my side and rests his large head on my stomach. He lets out the largest sigh as if he’s the one that’s been working his ass off all day. News flash: all he had to do was lounge around the yard and miss opportunities to be next to me.
I don’t know how long I lay there, scratching Tom’s ears and neck, but once I stop sweating, I feel better. “What should we eat, Tom?” I ask my sweet boy, genuinely hoping for an answer. Decisions about food are always hard. “Chinese?” I look him in the eye. He huffs and snot blows toward my face. Gee thanks, asshole.
After dinner, getting my bed together, the couch together, and unpacking enough things that I can take an everything shower, Tom and I go sit on our new front porch. I thought moving across the country would be where and how my life changed but it wasn’t. It was the moment I saw him. You know that bullshit ‘love-at-first-sight’ thing girls are raised on by the media? Well, it turns out it’s real, just rare. In the glow of the purple and orange sunset, he looks like an angel, or a god, or maybe a demon. It’s far too early to know which. Just a few units down, I see mostly a smudge of a very tall man.
He smiles in my direction, I assume to appear non-threatening. However, as he walks my way, trying to meet my gaze, I feel threatened. Tom alerts beside me, ears straight up, crooked teeth slightly showing while he decides if he’s going to bare his teeth to this stranger or not. “Staring is rude”, I remind myself under my breath and give Tom a gentle pat seeking comfort from the awkwardness of likely having to meet this strange man walking my way. My thirty seconds it takes him to get within conversation distance of me, seems to take thirty hours.
“Hey, I’m Terrell.” He says and waves from the sidewalk, maybe 10 feet off my porch. (The front yards consist of 8’ x 8’ patches of turf in this neighborhood, but the backyards are much bigger). I force a careful smile. “I live in 16 with my brother.” He tries again to start a conversation. I nod and think he senses my hesitation. “Um, I saw you moving in and was just trying to be cool. Let us know if you need anything, I guess. Hope you like it here.”
I bite my bottom lip. It’s a coping mechanism, I think. No sense being rude to my new neighbor so I grow a pair. As this stranger starts to turn back toward his place, I finally speak. “I’m Elliott. Sorry for being rude, I’m just shy, I guess, and not used to people being friendly or welcoming.” I try to seem friendly with a better smile as I get up and walk a few steps onto my yard to offer to shake his hand. “My place is still a wreck because I obviously just got everything inside, but would you like a beer or something? My bribe to myself to finish unloading all my shit was alcohol, so that’s really all I have right now to offer…”
He gently shakes my hand and shrugs. “I don’t really drink beer. Don Julio is my poison. I’m much more of a pothead.”
That comment makes my smile genuine. “You’re in luck. I’m not really a smoker but my best friend loaded me up with the goods for my travels. I also happen to have a new bottle of Don Julio. Compliments of her as well.” I nod my head towards my front door, inviting him to follow me. Tom stays right next to my right leg from the moment I cross the threshold of the porch, always protecting me.
Terrell follows me just inside the front door, then stops. “I definitely just came by to introduce myself so you know there’s some cool peoples in the neighborhood, not for you to offer me weed and alcohol.”
I keep walking toward the kitchen, straight back from the front door and roll my eyes so hard, I’m pretty sure he can see it through my skull. “You’d be doing me a favor. I’m not a tequila girl and I’m not a smoker so these two items will likely go to waste if you don’t take me up on my offer. Besides, Tom here will end your life if he has to in order to protect me so I don’t have to feel like an idiot blonde white girl in a horror movie that runs right towards the danger.” I glance over my shoulder to check his reaction to my last statement.
His turn to roll his eyes, though I can’t even guess if it’s in regards to my comment about Tom or about the white girl/horror movie. “I won’t be a problem as long as Tom isn’t a problem.” Slowly he starts taking steps toward the kitchen where I’m gathering my paraphernalia. “You make a habit of inviting strange men into your home and hoping Tom will protect you?” His hands hit the peninsula counter as the accusatory statement came out of his mouth.
“First of all, Tom will absolutely wreck your shit if I want him to, thank you very much. Secondly, no, I avoid social situations at all costs, this is a new experience and I’m trying to be a ‘cool peoples’ since apparently that’s a category for this neighborhood.” I air quote his ‘cool peoples’ comment from earlier and grab the Don Julio and plastic cups out of the top box by the pantry. “You drinking this trash straight or…” I open the box a little further to see a couple cans of Pepsi and Sprite loose, “I have Pepsi or Sprite, probably shaken.”
“Straight is fine.” A smile spreads on his face and he lightly shakes his head, looking down.
In a split second, as I pass him a cup and the bottle of tequila, I take a good glance at him. His dark skin kind of glows under the cool white light hanging above the bar. His coily hair, part messy at the root, part well managed locs at the ends draw attention to his jaw line and well groomed facial hair. His biceps strain his shirt as he pops the cork off the bottle of Don Julio and pours a glass. His ‘Frog and Toad Are Friends’ t-shirt is extremely nostalgic. He notices me noticing him and smirks. Fucking asshole.
“So I have some Dutch rellos and about an ounce of this shit called Wedding Cake that she said was the best.” I get myself back to business and lay out the goods. She sent me on my way with a rolling tray, grinder, rellos, and enough weed for years for just me since I almost never smoke. She wouldn’t accept the fact that I really only smoke with her.
“Wedding Cake is that shit.” The excitement is written all over his face.
I slide the tray full of the supplies toward him and say, “be my guest.”
He gets to work while not-so-subtly watching me take a Coors Light out of the fridge and cracking it open. Suddenly I’m all too aware of my spandex biker shorts and four-sizes-too-big v-neck sleep shirt. Thankfully I don’t go outside without a bra, even on the front porch, so my boobs are contained in my lacy bralette. I slide up onto the counter to the side of the bar so I can still see my guest from where I sit, while I eat more of my shrimp fried rice I ordered hours ago. Sitting in silence and listening to myself chew, I realized I don’t love the silence, even though it’s not an awkward one, so I power on my JBL speaker that’s resting next to me, charging since I was using it all day and try to pick a song. It’s much more complex than it should be because my music taste is diverse and Terrell will likely form an impression based on whatever music I pick. He glances at me a few times and no doubt sees my brows furrowed while I bite my lip. Thankfully he’s still occupied rolling a joint.
I decide to go with my safety bracket of songs by artists no one has ever heard of. Then he can really only judge me on the style of music. I’ve been told since high school I listen to stoner music so it seems fitting. I click on Flowers by Raye and just slightly bob along with the beat. Once the chorus hits, I sing along with my soul, because how else do you sing a break up song? As he seals the rello, he watches me, I feel his stare and I don’t care. He’s just a guy that lives next door, I don’t need to impress him.
As the song ends, I chug the rest of my beer, hop off the counter, grab a new one, then return to my spot. The Baile remix of Love by Daughter automatically plays next. I watch Terrell and sway to the music while he lights the blunt, takes the first pass, and then offers it to me. I never quite figured out how to smoke anything, so one small hit and I spiral into a coughing fit. He takes the blunt back from me and even over my coughing fit, his deep chuckle rattles my bones.
“You really don’t smoke much.” He smirks and takes another hit.
“Bro, I tried to tell you!” I cough/cry/choke out.
“So what brought you here?” He asks once I can breathe without coughing.
“It’s a long story. I needed a fresh start and I liked this house a lot.” I shrug and take the blunt back when he offers. I will myself to not die this time when I take a hit before passing it back again.
“I suppose when I moved here it was to start over too, but that was four years ago.” His gaze meets mine and I get lost in his deep brown eyes. Or maybe it’s just the beer and the weed.
“Where’d you move from?” I ask when I remember to participate in the conversation.
“Cincinnati. You?”
“Nashville.”
“You don’t have an accent.” He states the obvious.
“Only sometimes. I was raised here til I was thirteen so I don’t really have a southern accent.”
He smirks and says, “and I thought you would need a tour guide and I could show you around.”
“Unfortunate for you, I guess.”
“It is definitely my loss.” His phone rings, interrupting the moment, I recognize his blasting ringtone and him and I both sing along until he answers the call. He gives me a look as he says hello to whoever it is, I’m hoping that he’s happily surprised that I know the song. “Yeah, man, she invited me in to smoke.” He tells his caller. I watch patiently and sip on beer. “Hold on.” He tells the caller then turns to me. “My brother’s jealous he’s missing out and wants to know if he can come join.”
I shake my head and laugh, “I’m already violating every rule of safety, why not make it worse, the doors open.”
There’s a twinkle in his eye as he tells his brother, “her dog will eat us if we give him reason, so she said sure, the doors open.” He hangs up without saying bye and we stare at each other.
Our gazes stay locked even after his brother walks through the door and over to us in the kitchen. “Oh, y’all are about to fuck, my bad, I can leave.” He puts his hands up in surrender and starts walking backwards towards the door.
“Nigga, I thought you wanted to smoke.” Terrell says without breaking our staring contest.
“Nigga, you couldn’t cut the sexual tension in this room with a butter knife it’s so stiff.” His friend says but starts walking back toward us and offers his hand to me. “I’m Xavier, thanks for not sicking your dog on me.”
I shake his hand and a singular laugh breaks through. I lose the staring contest and look over at Xavier, who is a shorter, and overall smaller guy than Terrell, with cornrows and a face full of attitude. Leave it to me, a tall, mid-size white girl to find the two black guys in the neighborhood and welcome them into my home the day I move into said home. Tom huffs when Xavier rests his hands on the end of the peninsula between me and Terrell.
Xavier eyes my Pitbull Chow Chow mutt and says, “we gonna have a problem, bro. I don’t fuck with dogs like that. I mean, we cool, as long as you cool.”
Tom’s eyes bounce between me and Xavier like he’s telepathically asking me if we like this guy. I slide off the counter and give Tom a scratch and a kiss and the head which does the trick and he lays back down and starts snoring within seconds. The boys laugh in response.
