Neighborly

Pizza and Whiskey

At eight thirty on the dot, my doorbell rang. I was sitting on my couch watching a rerun of The Real Housewives of New York. I immediately froze when I heard the doorbell. It had to be him. There was no way that someone else had just happened to come by at that time. I was hoping that he hadn’t been serious and was just saying he was coming to get a rise out of me. Maybe if I sat still enough he would think I wasn’t at home and he’d just go away.

“I know you’re in there. Your curtains are sheer. I can see you on your couch.”

Fuck.

I set the cookies I’d been eating on the coffee table, folded my blanket and set it to the side. I quickly checked my hair in the hall mirror before I opened the front door. Grady was standing there holding a fifth of whiskey and a pizza. He was wearing a red Alabama hat, a plain white t-shirt, and those damn jeans again.

“Hope you haven’t eaten yet. Nice shorts.” He beamed at me and walked past me towards the kitchen.

“By all means, come on in.” I grumbled behind him and looked at myself again in the mirror. I was wearing an oversized black sweater that fell off one shoulder and grey pajama shorts. I’d never noticed how short they actually were until I was checking myself out in the mirror and I was now trying to adjust them and make them longer as I made my way to the kitchen.

He sat the pizza and whiskey down on the counter while I pulled out plates and glasses out of the cabinets. I knew there was no way he was just going to leave as soon as he got here. Might as well enjoy some greasy pizza and whiskey until I figure out what would make him leave.

“I was snacking on some cookies but I haven’t actually eaten dinner yet.”

“Oh, good.” He poured the whiskey and put a piece of pizza on my plate.

“Did you not hear me when I said don’t come to my house?” I asked between bites of pizza.

“Yeah, I heard you. And I almost didn’t come, but I got bored.”

“So, once again, torturing me is your entertainment.”

He snorted into his whiskey glass. He made eye contact with me as he bit into his pizza. The intense look in his eyes made my pulse quicken. I felt like prey being studied by its predator. I had no idea what kind of hell adult Grady could or would put me through and I was so not ready to find out.

“Honestly, I just didn’t want to drink alone. Makes me feel like a huge loser. Let’s make nice for tonight and just enjoy some good whiskey. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to for the last twenty years? Why didn’t you ever leave this place? I always figured you’d end up in New York or LA as a writer.”

I gulped down my glass of whiskey and looked at him in surprise. My dream since I was a child was to become a writer. But I’d never been able to finish a story I had started writing. The thought of letting someone read anything I’d written also made my throat close up.

“How did you know I wanted to be a writer?”

“You told me.”

“What? I would never have told you anything like that.”

“Sixth grade,” he mumbled with food in his mouth. “We were sitting on top of the monkey bars watching Randy Singer annihilate everyone at dodge ball. You said you couldn’t wait to grow up and get out of this town and I asked you where you would go. You said to a big city where you could become a famous writer.”

I felt my face pale as I took another bite of my pizza. He leaned over and refilled my glass, avoiding my gaze. I had forgotten all about that conversation. Grady had actually been nice. We were friends at first. He’d been the new kid in sixth grade. He started school two days late because his family had still been on a yacht in the Gulf of Mexico on vacation. None of us could really relate to someone that rich, so he’d immediately been an outcast. No one wanted to be friends with the snobby private school kid. No one except for me and Marni. We had made it our mission to become his friend so that he wouldn’t feel lonely at his new school. I never knew what had changed, but something had happened to him because once we started seventh grade, he was determined to make my life hell.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, Fartner. It’s just something I remember.”

“And there it is.” I got up and put my plate in the sink. “Get out.”

I started to walk past him to go open the front door and he caught me by the wrist. It caught me off guard. I gasped and yanked my arm away from him.

“I’m sorry.” He held up his hands in defeat and lowered himself down onto a stool. “I’m sorry. It just came out. I promise I will be nice the rest of the night. Don’t throw me out.”

I sighed as I sat back down on my stool. Grady poured himself another drink. He pulled his hat off and sat it on the counter. It was still so odd to me seeing him bald underneath that hat. When we were kids he had a head full of thick black hair. He used to wear it kind of shaggy and in his eyes. Girls used to swoon every time he swept his hair back so they could see his green eyes.

“My grandmother was sick.”

“What?”

“That’s why I didn’t leave. My grandmother got really sick and I couldn’t bring myself to go off to school. I wanted to stay here to be with her. So I went to school here. She passed away about six months after I graduated from college. By then, I’d been dating my boyfriend for four years and I just felt like my whole life was here, so I stayed. We eventually got married.” Grady’s head shot up. His eyes were wide as he looked around the room.

“Married? Um, where is he now?”

“Dead.” I said quietly, sipping from my glass.

“Oh my God, Molly. I’m so f*****g sorry.” He reached out and grabbed my hand I had resting on the counter. I wanted to pull my hand away but for some reason I didn’t. The warmth of his hand on mine sent a shiver down my back. I sat there for a few minutes before I realized that I’d been staring at our hands.

“Don’t be.” I said, pulling away at last. “He was really sick for a few years. I couldn’t admit this at the time, but him dying was actually a relief. He didn’t have to suffer anymore.”

I didn’t realize I had started crying until I felt Grady’s thumb brush across my cheek. I looked up at him and met his eyes. He still had his hand on my cheek, staring down at me. Every time he touched me, I felt a shock go through my body. And I wondered if he felt it too. Maybe Grady had changed as he had grown up. Some people did. But he had really made my life hell as a kid. And it didn’t end when he left in the ninth grade. His friends carried on the torment the rest of my life. To this day, I still run into people who call me Fartner or will bring up pranks he had pulled on me.

“Anyway, enough about that. Tell me about you. I obviously need to hear about this fiance of yours.” Grady jerked his hand away from my face at the mention of his fiance.

“Well,” he huffed. “Her name is Heidi. She’s twenty-six.”

“Oh, wow.” He c****d an eyebrow at me.

“Sorry, sorry. You always did like them young.” His eyebrows shot up even higher.

“I didn’t know you studied my dating habits.”

“I - I didn’t. Just people talk, ya know.”

“Uh huh.” He studied me for a minute. “Anyway, she’s in school right now for a fashion degree. She’s already working on starting her own clothing line. We met at one of my parents’ dinner parties. Her father owns a Maserati dealership in downtown Atlanta. She’s a little spoiled but she’s sweet. She wants me to go work for my father.”

“Hmm.” I swirled my whiskey around in my glass. Grady and I may not have been closer after sixth grade, but even I knew that he and his father were not exactly on the best of terms.

“What’s that hmm about?” He glanced over at me.

“It’s just interesting. How do you feel about that?”

“I’ve explained to her that it’s never going to happen. She continues to push but I just ignore it. No one is ever going to change my mind about working for him. I don’t know why this just now crossed my mind, but is your boyfriend going to be upset that I’m here drinking with you?”

Grady was watching me over his glass. It reminded me of his mother from the lunch earlier today. I burst out laughing. He sat his glass down and bit into another piece of pizza, his eyes never leaving me.

“What boyfriend? I haven’t dated anyone in the last three years.”

“Oh. I just assumed.”

“Why would you assume that I have a boyfriend? I’m still the same lame person I was when we were kids.”

“You’re too hard on yourself. You always were. I just assumed, with the job that you have and still hanging out with Marni, that you’d have a man or two hanging around.”

I laughed again. “I’ve been on a few dates that Marni has set me up on. They never go past the first date though.”

“Why not?” He filled up his glass and mine again.

“Marni sucks at match making for one. And I just haven’t found someone who has made me feel interested enough in investing the kind of time it takes to have a relationship. My job keeps me very busy, even on my off days, so it’s not like I really have a lot of extra time to begin with. I don’t want to waste it on someone who isn’t worth it.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s that about?”

“You don’t want to waste your time and yet here you are with me.” I took a gulp of my whiskey. I didn’t like where he was going with this conversation.

“You didn’t really give me much choice. You kind of bombarded your way into my house. And you’re a client. I have to get to know you to plan this wedding.”

“Yeah, the wedding.” He was staring down into his whiskey glass.

“How many glasses does it take to get you drunk?”

Grady looked up at me and grinned. He leaned over on the counter so that he was so close to my face that I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“Why? You planning on taking advantage of me?” I noticed him licking his lips as he was looking at mine. Was he flirting with me? Or maybe I was drunk? I could usually hold my liquor pretty well, but maybe I was more buzzed than I realized.

“No, just wanted to make sure you’re going to be able to make the walk home.”

“Hmm. I don’t know. That’s pretty far. Might have to just crash on your couch.” He winked at me and took another swig of the whiskey. He was still so close to me that another inch and I could have been drinking out of the same glass.

“I will carry you over there myself before I let you sleep in my house.”

“What if I don’t go to sleep? Can I stay then?” he brushed my hair away from my face. I immediately froze. He was definitely flirting with me. And this could not happen. Even though I kind of wanted it to. Having him here so close to me, I could really study his face. There were fine lines and wrinkles around his eyes. He had laugh lines around his mouth. Grady no longer looked like the boy I had known. He had grown into a man. A man who was now inches from my face, drunk, and talking about staying in my house.

“Grady, I think it’s time for you to go home. It’s getting late and I have to get up early.”

“Is that really why you’re sending me home?”

“Excuse me?”

He slid across the counter so that his mouth was now close to my ear.

“I said is that really why you’re sending me home?” he whispered.

“What other reason could I possibly have?” I huffed back.

“Maybe you’re worried you’ll give into your urge to kiss me.” I felt his lips graze my neck. Without thinking, I jumped up and shoved him away, knocking him off the stool. Unfortunately for me, he caught himself on the counter before he hit the floor. The look on his face was pure shock.

“Don’t ever f*****g touch me again. Get the f**k out of my house.” I stomped out of the kitchen to the front door with him following close behind me. He turned around in the doorway and started to say something, but when his eyes met mine he closed his mouth and walked away. I slammed the door behind him. I slid down the door to the floor, trying to process what had just happened. Grady had always liked to push my buttons. It was like a hobby to him to see how far he could push before I snapped. Some things apparently never changed. I had wanted to kiss him. Between the burn of the whiskey and the sight of him in those tight-fitting jeans, my brain had been crossing its wires all night. I had let my guard down and tried to give him a chance to prove me wrong. I wanted things to be nice between us. Especially if I was going to have to work with him to plan a wedding. His f*****g wedding. s**t.