Page 20 of The Man Next Door
Then he popped it in his mouth, just like that.
We were both motionless for a beat, just gazing at each other, so lost in each other, we didn’t see her coming.
“Itisyou,” she squealed. “I thought it was you but I wasn’t sure. I was just heading to see you.”
Gavin’s gaze traveled over Izzie. How could it not? Izzie was gorgeous, blue eyed, blonde and curvy, and unlike me, she had already hit puberty, and her ample boobs were evidence of that. And on top of that, she was known to be a real flirt. Or a tease. Depending on who you asked.
Well, that’s it for me, I thought. Now that Gavin had set eyes on Izzie, there was no hope for me. I was forever doomed to be the cute kid next door with the cereal in her hair.
She offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Izzie,” she cheered, and I don’t know if it was my imagination, but it looked like she was sticking out her chest.
Gavin hesitated and threw her an impish grin. “Uh… I’d give you a shake, but my hands are filthy.” He held up both of them as evidence.
She giggled like a school girl. Well, she was, in fact, a school girl. I rolled my eyes. “That’s okay,” she said. “What’s your name?”
He popped his head back under the hood. “Gavin Foster.” He was not especially friendly, but she persisted all the same.
“I live right down the road,” she told him. “Over there, the pink trailer.”
“Oh yeah?” he said, seemingly not too interested.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, curious.
“I moved in five months ago or so.”
“How old are you?” she asked.
Now this, I wanted to hear.
He finally pulled his head out, and shot her an assessing glance. “Are you a reporter, Izzie, because you sure ask a lot of questions.” Then he hid right back under the hood. Izzie’s face fell, as clear as day.
“Twenty-four,” he told us.
Izzie perked up. “We’re fourteen,” she told him. “Abby and I, although Abby is two months older than me. She was born in February, and I was born in April. Although, I look older than she does,” and with those last words, she stuck out her chest again, or perhaps it was just my imagination.
He laughed. “Shouldn’t you girls be at the mall chasing boys, instead of bothering older men?”
I smiled but Izzie didn’t. “You’re kind of rude, you know that?” She turned to leave. “And by the way, boys our age are immature, and you’re not exactly old. My dad, he’s old.” And with those words, she stormed off. After just a few steps, she jerked around. “Well, aren’t you coming, Abby?”
Of course, I scampered like a little mouse. Sadly, I always followed her like a lost puppy.
I did the math in my head. Twenty-four. Fourteen. Ten years difference.That’s a lot of years.
“Such a jerk,” Izzie was saying, hours later.
We were stretched out on her old fashioned bed. It was covered by a beautiful patchwork quilt her grandmother had made. It had been done in hues of burgundies and pinks with patterns of flowers, solids and plaids. It belonged to Izzie’s mom. Her grandmother had quilted it for her.
She’d been talking about Gavin for hours, and I was getting a little bored.
“But he is hot, though,” she went on. “Don’t you think?”
“Uh… for an older guy, I guess… but he’s way too old for us.”
“Um… speak for yourself.” She buried her hand in her bag of Doritos. “He may be too old for you, but me, I’m older than my years. I mean, just look at me.”
I stared at her bedroom ceiling, speechless.
“He probably has a girlfriend. Do you know if he has a girlfriend? You live right next to him. Have you seen a woman?”
