Unwanted

POV: Tricia

My name is Patricia. I know lame name... Everyone usually just calls me Trish or Tricia-

Ugh i suck at openings. Anyways-

Here's my story.

Xane.

Xxxane.

Sex-God.

❤❤❤

He is beyond what one would call dreamy. He has a body most guys would kill for- and he doesn't even go to the local gym let alone smell like BO or nasty boy spray. Xane was the kind of male that already had a natural physique.

One, he began to polish with morning jogs, which I enjoyed all through my high-school years. He had started running about a year after I encountered him at school, and seven months after I realized he lived next to me. After I saw how tired he was getting up to try and talk himself into it, I started leaving him coffee.

And that was how our relationship started.

Not in a stalkerish watch him outside my windows with binoculars kind of way. Oh god now I sound creepy. No please get that image out of your head.

...

...

...

Seriously, get it out! NOW!

No.

I am what you would call a closet nerd who just so happens to have a sergeant major for a dad. So early mornings to study or geek out in chatrooms online was a thing before school and on weekends. Usually telling my dad I was doing schoolwork, but school was so boring it was like climbing a hamster wheel sometimes.

Every morning I was expected to get up. Shower. Go for inspection which is my dad's way of saying if what I was wearing was alright or not- he usually never had an issue unless he knew it might rain or disagreed with footwear in case of a school shooter. I also kept the cuter cloths I had bought myself well hidden from point A to point B so I stopped objecting quickly in middle school. Realizing that malicious compliance was apparently the American way, and not getting caught was key.

After inspection at 0535 military time, I would take my station to make our lunches while he did breakfast. Having the ability to cook starting at the age of five; my father consistently had me involved in making food. I probably could cook better than most grown adults by middle school.

During our breakfast, dad would engage in minor conversation for twenty to thirty minutes before we said goodbye to one another. Other than that, I was mostly home alone and didn't have a curfew. Dad trusted me, and for the most part I wasn't too crazy anyways.

Except maybe when it came to Xane... and he may also have been one of the main reasons I wasn't doing other things. Because once the coffee ritual began; it felt like he depended on me. Even if he had no idea who I was; at first.

Don't get me wrong Xane is H-O-T hot and my obsession with him became unhealthy in a: I hope he'll take notice of me kind of way. So much so I was rearranging my life for someone I pined after- not that I realized that for a long time. I just...

wanted to please him.

When it first started- it was meant as a friendly, helpful gesture. Knowing I couldn't have boyfriends and that I just admired he took care of his body. I didn't expect it to continue into some strange ritual, and that occasionally I'd find myself peaking out the window to see if he got it. I didn't expect to hope he'd look at me as more, I didn't expect it to hurt so much after three years of realizing I had feelings, ending up still being his little maid in collage come year four.

Hormones and hot guy. I wasn't the only one that noticed him every time he was around, hoping for him to just look at them and lock eyes to get that electric shock of being acknowledged, even just for a second, from someone you like.

He was a lion on campus, flaunting his mane, where I was probably closer to a flea clinging to his tail.

However, let me back up to clear my name before we get to where we're currently at.

Anyways, beyond the coffee exchange we had never even really spoken. I heard him cussing from my window every morning for two weeks when he started trying to go for a morning jog. It wasn't until careful observation in the first and fifth period we shared together I realized the issue. Which is where my kind (not obsessive) gesture started.

He was utterly exhausted because he wasn't used to getting up so early. The bags under his eyes with the giant energy drink he drank at our final period together at 2:30 every day likely only served to keep him up at night. Which in turn began the vicious cycle.

That's why caffeine is for the morning. I thought to myself, disturbed that he was shooting himself in the foot. Imagining all the kinds of conversations and how poorly they'd probably go if I mentioned looking after his health. A random stranger who had no business being involved.

So that's when it started; as a new legal driving sophomore with a car when the year was nearly over, I went and grabbed coffee and breakfast fifteen minutes after my dad left once the coffee shop was open. Nothing too heavy, just a croissant with egg and a latte with an extra shot. I pulled up home just as he was in the middle of his fit.

He was my neighbor and our driveway right next to his. I was pretty sure they rented since there was some exterior issues with the house from blue peeling paint and the drain on the roof no longer thatched properly. My window overlooked the driveways.

It was the first and one of the very rare times we had interacted and spoken to one another.

"You should try coffee." I called out. He turned to me angry; god he was angry.

"Are you trying to be a cunt or did you bring me coffee?" His words were a sarcastic whip. Moving away from the wall he had been kicking; though trying to pass off as if he were stretching as he lifted his arms.

I tried not to be annoyed, or turn around with what I had. Knowing that killing someone with kindness was better than being mean. Usually most people where just grumpy because of low blood sugar; or poor sleep. Both of which Xane certainly needed.

"Actually, smart ass- yes i did bring you coffee." Shoving the coffee forward as well as the sand which.

He was surprised, grabbing the items and dug right in.

Maybe that was the moment I began to have a small crush. A word I wouldn't name as love as I watched him. Something about seeing someone eat knowing you nourished their bodies was oddly pleasing. Or it was because he was attractive to me and my hormones.

"Cool, add caramel to the latte tomorrow." He said, handing me the empty cup with the trash inside. Turning to jog away he paused, giving me a small, crooked smile. "Thanks"

Ah my heart melted...

I was a pink puddle of bubble gum flavored goo.

Until I realized he used me. "Fuck!"

Tomorrow.

He wanted me to bring him coffee, tomorrow.

I had to see him tomorrow? What if I didn't show? Would he be mad? Would he show up at my door? Would he completely ignore me!?

Safe to say... I showed up the next day....

Only, I was too afraid to show my face, so I had left the coffee for him. Over, and over- and over. All through high-school.

So when collage became a thing; I was pretty sure our strange relationship had come to an end. Except I hadn't realized that my dad had become friends with the neighbor, and when it turned out we were going to the same collage... Guess who wanted to save money on housing and felt better with a boy present that would be uninterested in his daughter?

Guilty as charged.

Suddenly I went from freedom from this strange obsession to moving into the same house, with a boy who's room was on the other side of the house next to the bathroom. One that I would begin to know very intimately after our first encounter; and had adamantly avoided.

The first night we were together, and our parents had left. Xane came inside, hands in his pockets. Taking a long look at me up and down, a snide little smirk on his face. "Guess you'll be making dinners and stuff then huh?"

"Do you know how to cook?" I asked, my arms folded tightly around my mid section. Nervous about being with a boy other than my dad. Especially Xane. I wasn't even sure if I could wear my pajamas around the house.

"Nope."

"Wash dishes?"

"Sometimes. My mom used to yell at me because there was still food on them."

"Are you entirely incompetent?"

"Competent enough to know I can be a really shitty roommate if I don't have someone that's nice to me."

I swallowed hard at the threat, disliking where the conversation was going. Unhappy that I knew my voice would shake even before I heard it wavering. "Yeah, well, ditto on that one."

Instead of heading to my room, to my shame; I cooked fajitas and cleaned up the mess. Leaving a plate in front of his door with a knock, before retreating to my own to eat. So our relationship, in some manner, continued in a new form.