Nick called later that evening and I wasn't entirely too fussed that it had taken him a while to alert me towards his safe travels. I was intently somewhat too involved with the fella next door and by that I meant I couldn't stop fantasising about him as if suddenly he was my addiction to chocolate. Make no lies, I had been watching him from the front bay window discreetly, my eyes peering over the hardback book cuddled in my hands. He'd been moving in boxes the rest of that late afternoon until around seven when he handled over some cash towards the men who he had hired the grey van off for moving his stuff. It didn't make sense. I couldn't understand why the sudden interest had caused me to sit and watch him carry boxes to and from for those three hours. I was beginning to question my insanity.

"Rose, everything okay? How did today go? Any progress?" Nick asked, startling me at the sound of his voice echoing through my eardrum. I had forgotten he was there for a second, how he had drilled me with his apologises, his explanation on the trip before pitch-forking me now with countless questions.

"Err, not really, no. I just can't seem to write a single word at the moment," I replied, sinking into the couch as I swirled the wine glass between my lap. It was ten and already I had my pyjamas, comfy blue bed socks and nightgown on. Outside was a little chilly which was expected for Autumn, with the falling of leaves and nippy winds, and I was sitting inside the conservatory which sometimes could be cooler than the rest of the house.

"Ah, I'm sure you'll find inspiration somewhere, babe. It just takes time. Heck, I don't think I know any author—well, I don't know any other author," he joked, "but, nobody can make a story up just over night." I couldn't lie that Nick's attempts at comforting me were admirable and I knew it wasn't dishonest. He'd been my number one supporter since forever. It was true, at the age of twenty I had married my teenage love. Nick was already had a career in his apprenticeship that by the time, I'd left University, I was a full time author and he was working as a financial director within the company. He'd been there when I had the call, he'd been there when I sent the manuscript off and he'd always came to my events. At the moment, his efforts to attend were becoming tardy.

"I know. I just hope I can think of something soon as I feel at a lost at the moment. I just would have also liked it if you came to that small convention tomorrow, Nick. I know work is...hard but I need---"

"---Babe, I know. I promise I'll make it up to you," he cut me off, "Anyway, I know you'll do great anyway. I love you, you know, that right?" I squeezed the phone within my hand closing my eyes holding those words.

"I love you too," I muttered, feeling empty as they left my lips, "Nick---"

---"Ah, shit. I gotta go. Someone's at the door. Must be staff or something. I'll call you tomorrow, baby, and I'll be back before you know it," he interjected, ending the call soon after. I sighed taking a massive swallow of wine feeling its slick kiss slide down the back of my throat. I wasn't even that mad he'd ended the call for whatever emergency he had. I didn't even feel that fussed that I wouldn't get to hold, kiss or see him till Wednesday. At that point, I didn't feel anything. I felt no loneliness either as I crept into my bed later that night, my side dipping and his remaining absent. What was wrong with me?

***

The small had gone as planned. It was a small gathering of up and coming amateur writers looking to improve themselves from discussion with myself and other two authors who'd attended as the panel. It had been held in the city, meaning I had to be victim to the endless congestion, so I didn't return home to about four. Angie had planned for us to meet at eight downtown, so I wanted to at least look presentable, and attempt to write something if I could.

I was pulling up on the driveway, absently listening to the radio that I'd became aware to my new neighbour, standing outside in his own driveway talking away on his phone. It must have been important with his exaggerated hand gestures, but it didn't last any longer as I got out and shut my car door. Strangely enough, I found myself heading on over, or at least standing on the pavement outside the entrance to his driveway.

"Hi," I called over to him. He turned around, a smile exploding onto his face as he tucked his phone into his navy blue's breast shirt pocket and walked on over. Dimples protruded his cheeks as he spoke, "Good afternoon, again. My, my, I didn't expect you to see you over here so soon," he teasingly said, raking a hand through his tousled brown hair.

I hoped I wasn't blushing. "So--so are you all moved in?" I asked.

"Er, yeah. Finished it yesterday strangely enough. I didn't really have a lot of stuff back in the apartment complex I used to have in the city. The house does feel a little empty, mind you. Its size is a lot more...bigger," he said smirking, "than I'm used to."

I chuckled. "I know what you mean."

"I don't know if you heard me on the phone or not but I'm having troubles with my car. The wheel is punctured, I must have drove over something," he stated, pointing at his black, sleek sports car parked up ahead. "So, I'm trying to find a mechanic who is actually available but I'm having no luck."

"Oh, you should try Ollie's. It's highly recommended. They should be available," I blurted, sheepishly smiling at his own returning smile as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Well, I shall. Thank you."

I nodded. "You're welcome. I guess I'll see you around." Turning on my toes before they halted as he uttered suddenly. "Hey, you want to come inside for a coffee or something? I'm told I can make the best coffee," he offered, tucking a hand into his trouser pocket.

There was hesitancy as I tackled the idea within my head, but I chose to accept, soon following him into his house. It wouldn't take my long to get changed later and I wasn't planning to stay here for a long while, so it seemed possible to do. And besides, I was longing to getting to know the guy. He was right, the place needed more furniture, homely stuff than just its bare walls and odd photo frame stuck here and there. Shane led me into his kitchen, ushering me to sit at the bar stool that sat under the island counter, whilst as he opened the fairly empty cupboards and grabbed a jar of coffee beans.

"Yeah, it's really bare around here," he said, most likely in response to my scouting eyes looking around the place. "I need to go IKEA or somewhere to spice it up."

"Yeah, you do," I agreed, amused.

His eyes were humorous as he glanced at me. "So, is he away?"

"Who?"

Then his eyes flickered to my clasped hands. I looked down suddenly aware of the sliver circle stuck around my third finger on my left hand. It became aware to me that he was speaking about Nick, well, not about Nick, he didn't know him in person, but the fact that I was married.

"Oh, erm, yeah," replying anxiously as I blushed towards my hands again, "he's on a business trip..." I paused. "Always is, these days," I confessed aloud, feeling a little odd that I repeated those thoughts that had briefly swarmed.

"Too bad. More the fool he is," he casually said, stirring the teaspoon around the cup slowly. Was he flirting with me? No, that wouldn't make sense. I'm married. Maybe, it was harmless? Just saying Nick should be more around. I didn't know, nor did I want to analyse it as he passed me the cup. Our fingers brushed causing a couple of goose bumps to erect upon my skin.

"So, are you—" I began, trying to distract myself from that warming sensation, and to feed my curiosity.

"---Married? In a relationship? No, I'm single. I split up with my girlfriend a couple months back. We didn't see eye to eye on certain things," he explained, taking a slow sip from his mug as I felt his eyes intently watching me as I looked elsewhere but his own. So, that answered my question.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Nah, don't be. She was too...complicated." He shook his head. "So, you said you were a writer. What do you write?" he asked, suddenly putting me onto the spot. Shit, I didn't know if I wanted to tell him. I write romances? It sounded so lame and I honestly felt like it would make my impression towards him, questionable. There was a part of me that really wanted him to like me. I didn't want to look silly in his eyes.

"Err, just fiction," I responded, deciding it was best to go along with not being entirely truthful. "Nothing special. And you? You said you own a company?" The best distraction was to pursue him with questions.

"Catering company. We supply kitchenware and all that. Trust me, it isn't as fun as you think to discuss about," he replied, before taking another swallow of his coffee. I hadn't even touched mine, I was too wrapped up in him. This felt so wrong. But why? I hadn't done anything. He was now aware I was married. There were respectful boundaries in place.

"I'd like you to know I'm having a house-warming get together this Wednesday. Perhaps you and if your...husband dutifully returns, would like to come?" He suggested, putting his mug into the sink. I bit my right inner cheek. Nick here. I mean of course Nick here.

"Yes, that would be nice." I nodded, briefly scanning towards my wrist watch, anything to distract from the fact I was drooling mentally over the way he unclasped his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up. "I should be going. I'm meeting a friend so, erm. Thank you for the coffee." I stood up, my heart hammering as he moved suddenly closer towards me. He was inches from my waist, staring down at me from his possible six foot frame. I could smell his cologne, it tickled my nostrils and dared me to temptation, but I held resistance.

"Well, it was lovely to see you again," he muttered softly, holding his hand out for me to shake. I took it gently, holding my breath as his brown eyes held my gaze. Our hands were still in contact for longer than I anticipated.

"Erm, bye!" I blurted sliding my hand away and scuttling towards the front door, aware of the footsteps echoing behind me.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he followed with, shadowing me as I stepped out the door onto the gravel driveway.

It just didn't possible. I had scurried into my house, locked the front door and fled to the kitchen sink balancing my hands on the sides as I sucked in air. Why was so anxious? Why did I feel so uptight? I loved Nick. I did. Maybe, it was just intimidation. But the way I'd reacted, my body reacted, it felt so right. There was actual butterflies in my stomach, my skin tensed, and I felt oddly aroused. No, I did feel aroused. Shit. That didn't mean anything did it? Maybe, I'm more sexually frustrated than I know of.

It just didn't make sense. Or maybe it did. 

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