Page 86 of The Man Next Door
Secondly, the staff at the theatre organized a party for me the night before my official birthday; a private showing ofBloodshotwith Vin Diesel, and all the popcorn we could eat. It was a lot of fun.
And finally… Gavin.
I was giddy when I knocked at his door. His front door. I was eighteen now, and I didn’t care what the neighbors might see or think. Ditto my dad. We had nothing to hide. We were in love.
He was wearing my favorite plaid shirt when he answered the door, all smiles. Magnum was excited to see me as always, pawing at me frantically. He was no longer a puppy but still very excitable.
“Go sit in your corner,” Gavin commanded in an authoritative but soft voice. Magnum stared at the floor for a beat, defeated, and reluctantly obeyed.
My breath hitched when I spotted the huge bouquet of red roses on the kitchen table. “For me?” I breathed in their sweet unique scent and rubbed a soft petal between the pads of my finger and thumb. “They’re beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
I turned to him. “I love them.”
“There are eighteen,” he pointed out.
I shot him a playful smile. Yes, the roses were beautiful, but I was more interested in him. I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around his large torso.
He stroked my hair. “You’ve gotten so big,” he said, much like a distant uncle might say.
I laughed. “I’m five foot seven.”
“I still have seven inches on you.”
I pulled my head from his chest and gazed into his eyes.
Kiss me.
We’d been close friends for four years by then, and we often communicated without words. He dipped his head and pressed his mouth on mine. My lips were hungry for his, my tongue eager to taste. We explored each other’s mouths, frantic, eager for more. Our hands were impatient too, our fingers curious, our hearts greedy.
When we finally tore away from each other, Magnum was watching us curiously. I laughed at the sight of him, ears perked up.
“You think he’s jealous?” I asked Gavin.
“No, he adores you.”
“Well, I adore him too.”
A slow grin stretched across his beautiful face. “I’ve got something else for you.”
My heart swelled, wondering if he had a gift for me. I hadn’t received one yet, save for the Turtles my dad had given me.
“Go sit on the sofa,” he urged. “And close your eyes.”
I dashed to the living room, as excited as a kid. I did as told and shut my eyes and waited eagerly. I could hear him rummaging through drawers and making a racket. I smiled. I suspected a cake might be involved, or perhaps a huge box of donuts.
“Okay… you can open your eyes now,” he called out.
My eyes popped open to see him standing in front of me, holding a chocolate cake on a platter. Eighteen candles lit up the room. I couldn’t help but laugh. The cake was so sad looking, lopsided with messy icing.
He set the cake down on the coffee table. “I know it doesn’t exactly look like the one on the box,” he pointed out. “But I’m sure it tastes good.”
I smiled. “Well, you have many skills, Gavin Foster, but cake-making is not one of them.”
“It’s the thought that counts, right?”
“Yes… definitely. I love it.”
