I smile at him, only for him to gape at me. His mouth bobs open and closed like a trout out of water.
“Hi, neighbor,” I call out as I approach him. His cheeks flush as he stares at me. After a second, he blinks a few times then returns my smile.
“Hello,” he muses so softly that I almost don’t hear him over my pounding steps.
I slow to a stop, excited to finally talk to him. To finally get to know my running buddy.
“Quite a day for a run, huh?” I’m panting a little, but since he’s a runner, I know he won’t judge me.
He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. I guess the fresh air first thing in the morning is nice.
“Uhm, yes. The weather is…” He moves his hands as though they’ll convey what he’s saying.
“No snow,” I finish his sentence with a grin. When he doesn’t speak, I fill the void. “As much as I love being in Boston, I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the snow. Thankfully one of the neighborhood boys takes care of my driveway.”
His eyes snap down to his driveway, abruptly breaking our eye contact. He flushes and rubs his hand on the back of his neck.
“That’s… nice… I need to…” He points behind him at the door, then turns so quickly he stumbles. Before I can comprehend it, he races through his front door, turns to look at me one last time, then closes the door, ending our moment.
I stand there confused for a moment, wondering what I said to upset him. I mull over our words as I finish my run. Maybehe wishes there was someone shoveling his driveway? Or he takes offense to my disdain towards the snow? Or maybe he’s just late for work?
By the time I reach my driveway, I’ve come to a conclusion. His awkward body movements, difficulty holding conversation, and his inability to maintain eye contact are because he’s not a morning person.
He was just affected by the early rise and not used to talking to someone in the morning.
Unless he has a wife. Or a girlfriend or someone he talks to in the morning. But I didn’t see anyone else there. And all the times I’ve driven by, there’s never been anyone else. And he always runs alone.
Oh, I hope he doesn’t have a girlfriend. I’d feel terrible crushing on him if he does.
Either way, the only way I’ll ever know is if I talk to him.
Which I will do.
Eventually.
Chapter 8
Sebastian
Heart pounding, I force my front door shut behind me and quickly lock it.
Then unlock it.
Just in case she wants to come inside.
I fall against the door, unable to hold myself up. I heave in a breath, forcing air into my lungs. Doing one of Cecilia’s breathing exercises, I attempt to calm my racing heart and clear my overwhelmed mind. But nothing calms my rapid thoughts or the pulsing in my ears.
Shespoketo me.
Lizzy spoke tome.
And I messed it up. It didn’t go as planned. But that wasn’t planned. She’s never spoken to me before.
Turning around, I stare at her through my peephole. The bewildered expression on her beautiful face only confirms my most harrowing suspicions. I failed her. This might have been my only chance to make an impression on her, and now, what must she think of me?
My hands grip my door, the only support holding me up as my world tilts. My breaths turn choppy. We met, and I couldn’t form sentences.
I race upstairs and splash cold water on my face. It grounds me enough to remove myself from the equation and replay the events rationally.