I press my hand lightly against his chest, trying to steer him away from escalating the situation. “It’s fine, Timmy,” I say. “We’ll just turn it down.”
I don’t mind watching things at a lower volume, because we can still hear it if we try. But really, it is a bit ridiculous. Even though this apartment is new, they don’t seem to have done a great job with the soundproofing. And if the balcony door is open, noise travels. While it’s a bit over-the-top, I tend to be compliant and laid-back, and so I just figure we’ll turn the volume down a bit. No big deal.
Timmy, on the other hand, is furious.
He yanks the computer remote from the table and cranks the volume back up. “There. That’s what normal people do when theypay a ridiculous amount for rent—they watch TV however the fuck they want.”
“Timmy, look, just don’t worry about it. I don’t want to make this into a big deal.” I take the remote from him and he sighs as I turn the volume back down again.
He glares at me but doesn’t argue further, his jaw working as he silently fumes.
For the rest of the night, Timmy finds it impossible to relax.
His behavior is like a pressure cooker, hissing quietly just beneath the surface. He’s pacing the apartment, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
Every time I hear someone walk past in the hallway, my stomach twists in knots, worried it’s going to be the concierge’s knock on the door with another complaint, and anticipating Timmy’s reaction.
The next day,Timmy is still restless, but he seems happier. We manage to have a quiet day with no complaints. In the evening, I watch him walk to the balcony, completely naked, his cock swinging in the breeze.
I don’t think much of it at first—we’re high up on the twenty-third floor, the balconies are partitioned enough that privacy isn’t usually a concern, and Timmy is just being Timmy, comfortable in his own skin. I’ve never seen someone do more helicopters with pure joy on their face—in fact, I don’t think I’d ever seen a guy do a helicopter until I met Timmy.
But then I see him peering around the edge of the balcony, craning his neck to where the leasing agent’s unit is located.
Suddenly, he’s having a conversation. “Ooh, hello,” I hear him say, his tone a little flirty.
“Timmy?” I call, uneasy. “What are you doing?”
He grins over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Saying hi.”
I inch closer, dread pooling in my stomach.
“Yeah, I’m buck naked out here right now,” I hear him say, his voice low and casual. “Enjoying my evening, just enjoying the breeze.”
What in the actual fuck?! How creepy.
I freeze, horrified. “Timmy,” I hiss. “Get in here!”
But he just laughs. “Wow, she’s really hot, your neighbor,” he mutters as he finally starts to head back inside, grinning like a kid who’s just gotten away with something naughty. “I think I’ve got a boner from looking at her.”
Because he is completely naked, after all, I can see he does not, in fact, have a boner. But the fact that he said it—out loud—makes my skin crawl. The words hang in the air, vulgar and disrespectful, both to me and the woman next door.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Get your ass inside. That is so gross of you to say! Why are you being like this?”
He finally steps inside, but not before shooting one last glance toward the neighbor’s unit. “We should go say hi,” he says, the grin still plastered across his face, making it sound like the neighbor hinted that she wanted late-night visitors.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop!” I plead. “Stop being disgusting!”
He rolls his eyes, but then he stops.
My heart feels heavy, sick with embarrassment and horrified by the fact my fiancé is perving at my next-door neighbor like some lecherous drunk standing on a street corner as underage girls walk past.
It makes me feel gross and unwanted, and then I feel silly for being jealous. She is pretty, but it doesn’t sit well with me that he was looking at her in that way, and then had the gall to tell me about it. Gross.
We put on a movie, but I can’t shake the nausea swirling in my gut. I eventually fall asleep, curled into myself, trying to make sense of the man lying beside me—the man who oscillates between sweet and unsettling at the drop of a hat, still sick to my stomach about the interaction.
The next day,he’s making breakfast.
I feel the need to address the situation. “Dude, you literally went outside naked and told my neighbor you were naked.”