Beyond Walls

Chapter2

The thing about moving to a new place, Isla thought to herself as she stood in her towel at 6:47 AM, is that nobody tells you what you are up against until you have started living there and find out by yourself.

Who says hot water takes five minutes to start rushing, and then it takes forever and finally brings out something not even close to hot.

Damien should have said something about that part, she said, frustrated.

She got dressed fast in the navy dress she loved to wear to work. This dress made her more confident and people usually take her more seriously. She put on her heels, dried her hair. Pulled it back into a simple bun and then put a little bit of makeup. It was her first day at the new job. She wanted to look like someone who had everything under control, not like someone who had been lying awake half the night thinking about her neighbor’s hands everywhere on her body.

God. She really needed to stop thinking about him all the time. It was not doing her any good.

Isla grabbed her bag. She put her laptop in her portfolio, the pens and some emergency granola bars. Then she headed out. Isla was going to give herself some time to grab a coffee at the shop she had seen two blocks away. She wanted to check out the neighborhood before she started working.

The hallway was completely empty when she locked her door. This was good because she didn’t want any distractions.

“Running away?”

Isla jumped high and almost dropped her keys.

Damien was standing with his back against the door frame . He had a coffee mug in his hand. It was not the mug he had yesterday. That one had broken. This man seemed to like coffee a lot, she said to herself.

Damien looked very awake for seven in the morning. He was wearing joggers and a black top. The top was a bit loose, but it showed off the muscles in his arms.

She said, I am not running. I’m just a little late, that’s all.

He took a sip of coffee, his eyes tracking over her outfit in a way that made her feel a bit shy. “First day?” he asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

“You have that look. The ‘I’m going to nail this’ determination mixed with the ‘I don’t want to do anything embarrassing’ terror.”

Isla could not. Laugh. She said, That is really something. You just talked about all the things I’m worried about.

“Yeah”, I usually have a feeling about these things, he said with a smile, pushing off the door frame and closing his apartment door behind him. “Which direction are you headed?”

“Downtown. The corner of Fifth and Madison.”

I am walking in that direction anyway. Do you mind if I join you or would that interrupt the mental pep talk for the new job?

Saying no would be the wise option right now because she needs to keep her distance from this tempting man.

“I can multitask,” she said instead. Surprising herself.

They went down the three flights of stairs without saying a word to each other. It was a comfortable silence. When they got outside, the morning air felt cool and fresh. New York City was starting to wake up. They saw delivery trucks driving by. They heard the noise the trucks were making. They could smell the bread from the bakery on the corner. They also heard the sound of construction work going on far away, which is a sound that New York City always seems to have.

“So,” Damien said as they walked, “what’s the job?”

I work as a marketing consultant. I specialize in brand revitalization for mid-sized companies. At his raised eyebrow, she added, “Basically, I help businesses figure out why no one’s buying their stuff anymore and how to fix it.”

“Sounds like detective work.”

I think that is what it is like. Consumer behavior, market analysis and creative strategy are all part of it. It is finding the problem between what a company is selling and what people really want to buy from them.

She was talking too much. She always talked too much about work when she was nervous.

Damien really seemed to care about what she was saying. He asked, “Do you like it?”

I really love doing this. It’s the one thing I’m excellent at. Reading people, understanding what they respond to, finding the emotional hook. My last firm, I increased client retention by thirty-seven percent in eighteen months,” she said with a proud look on her face.

“Impressive.”

“It’s just numbers.”

“It’s not, though.” They stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light. “Numbers represent the data of people making buying choices. You’re good at understanding the people and what they want. That’s a gift.”

Isla looked at him. She was really surprised by what he said. The way he said, it was not like he was trying to be funny or impress her but was genuinely commending her.

“Enough about me." She said, moving her hands, What about you? Are you an artist?

“Painter. Mostly abstract, some figurative work. Nothing fancy.”

Do you sell your work?

“Sometimes. When I need to eat,” he smiled, but there was something careful in it. “Mostly I just paint what I need to paint and hope someone connects with it.”

Isla and the people with her were getting close to the coffee shop now. Isla could see the line of people, through the window. The line of people was not too bad, but it was long enough that Isla would be running a little late if she decided to stop at the coffee shop.

Damien looked like he knew what she was thinking. He said, “You can skip it. I won’t be offended.”

“I have coffee.” He lifted his travel mug. “Learned my lesson, so I carry mine everywhere.”

She felt very grateful for his thoughtfulness. She knew the wise thing to do was to say goodbye and head to work, but instead she pulled out her phone and asked, “What is your phone number?”

His face changed fast. He looked surprised, then he looked at her with those sexy eyes of his. “Are you asking me out, Isla Monroe?”

Her face got really red. “I am paying my coffee debt. So definitely not.”

“If you say so,” he said. Then he told her his phone number, and he watched as she put it into her phone.

She sent him a text: Coffee debt. I will pay this back.

His phone buzzed. He looked at the phone and smiled.

I should go. She felt really aware of how they were standing close to each other. She could see the bits of darker blue, in his eyes. She noticed the hairs on his jaw that were just starting to grow back. His lips were curved up a little at the corners even when he was not smiling.

“You should.” But he didn’t move.

Neither did she.

A businessperson walked fast and pushed past them, saying something about tourists getting in the way of the sidewalk. The spell between them broke.

“Good luck today,” Damien said. “Not that you need it.”

“Thanks.” Isla took a step back, then another. “See you around, neighbor.”

“Count on it.”

She turned and walked away, so aware of her posture, the click of her heels on the pavement, the feeling of being watched.

She didn’t let herself look back until she reached the corner.

He was still standing there, coffee mug in hand, watching her.

He waved.

She waved back.

Then she turned the corner and let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“Control yourself,” she muttered to herself. “Control Yourself. He’s just a neighbor. A friendly, gorgeous, thoughtful neighbor who probably has lots of women falling all over him. You are not going to be one of them.”

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown number: You forgot to breathe again. I can tell from here.

Isla looked back, toward the place where she had left him. She did not see him anywhere.

She shouldn’t respond. Responding would encourage him. Would encourage the thing she could feel building between them, the attraction that she absolutely did not have time for.

She typed back: Are you stalking me or something?

Damien: Observing. There’s a difference.

Yeah right, she typed, rolling her eyes.

Damien: Truly there is a difference. One requires binoculars and creepy behavior. The other is just being attentive.

Isla: Then what would you call remembering the way someone breathes?

Damien: The one where I actually pay attention.

Isla: I am going to be late for work today, at my job.

Damien: Then stop texting your neighbor and go be brilliant at your job.

Isla: Bossy.

Damien: You really have no idea.

The words sent some kind of sensation throughout her body. She put her phone in her bag and started walking really fast.

But even as the glass office building came into view, the one that seemed like a place worth starting over, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had already started. Something she didn’t choose. Something she wasn’t sure she could stop.