A Love Your Neighbor Story

Vinnie:

Everyone knows mice belong in Disney movies. Everyone, but my new roommate, who possesses neither the refinement of Miss Bianca nor the sewing skills of Cinderella’s furry friends. Instead of following clues like Basil, my unwanted friend specializes in leaving behind trails of evidence.

The unfairness of it all sweeps through me as I stare at the mess in my pantry. Life is complicated enough without finding my new box of cereal strewn across the bottom shelf and floor. There are telltale dark brown grains of rice mixed in with my scattered Honey Bunches of Oats with Almonds. I don’t eat brown rice.

Strains of music float through the apartment ductwork and penetrate my stupefied brain. For reasons unknown to me, my neighbor, Troy, turns on his stereo at precisely 7:45 a.m. Monday through Friday. The upbeat tempos he favors usually give me a boost on my way out the door to work, but not today. Today it means I need to clean up the mess and leave for work in less than five minutes without my customary breakfast.

My stomach growls as I wipe the crispy flakes and bits of crunchy granola into the trashcan. The lingering smell of almonds and oats teases me until I pull out a Clorox wipe and sanitize the shelf. The faint scent of oranges wafts up from the Clorox wipe to mock my empty belly. Resentment eats me instead of me eating cereal as I sweep the floor.

With the trash in one hand and my keys in the other, I stalk out of my apartment. I snap the lock shut with a vicious click before slamming the door. Still fuming over my lost breakfast, I whirl toward the stairs and find myself eyes to mouth with Troy, the Holy Grail of Handsome Neighbors. My best friend came up with that nickname, but I can’t forget it. I squeak and wobble backwards, away from his smiling lips and light brown stubble.

The corners of his mouth dip down as I try to recover my equilibrium. Troy steadies me with a hand on my shoulder. His green eyes scrunch up as he peers down at me. “You okay, Vinnie?”

“I’m fine.” It’s a cool morning in late September, and warmth from his hand seeps through my scrubs. I feel corresponding heat bloom in my cheeks.

“Are you sure? You seem,” he cocks his head to one side and considers me, “flustered.”

The trash bag slides from my slack hand and lands with a cascading crunch, as if to prove his assessment. I bend down and grab the bag just to hide my fiery cheeks. I hate looking like an idiot, especially in front of the guy who occupies a fair amount of my daydreams.

“Vinnie?”

I glance up at his face through the hair that has fallen over my forehead. His raised eyebrows remind me that I haven’t answered his question. I straighten up. “I am, I guess. I mean… it’s been a rough fifteen minutes.”

His smile reaches his eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.” I realize my voice is sharp when his smile falters. I offer a small smile of my own. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound snappy. I lost a fight with the mouse in my apartment. It ate my breakfast.”

“That’s unfortunate.” He purses his lips and seems to go into a slight trance. Then his face clears and he grins. “I know. Wait here.”

Before I can protest that I am about to be late to work, Troy disappears inside his apartment. I glance at my watch. I have five minutes to make a six minute drive, but I can’t leave, not with Troy expecting my presence when he returns. Maybe he’s bringing me some mouse traps and saving me a trip to the store.

As time passes, I find myself tapping my keys against my leg in time to the bouncy music pouring out his door. It’s one of my favorite songs. I’m humming by the time he comes back.

“You can’t skip the most important meal of the day because of a mouse.” He holds out a Ziploc of mini muffins. I can tell they are warm because the bag is beginning to fog.

Embarrassed and touched, I extend my hand. “Thank you.”

We both look at the set of keys occupying my hand. Troy sort of shrugs and wedges the top of the bag between my fingers. I tell myself it’s the heat of the muffins affecting my face, but I know it’s a lie as he tugs on it one last time to make sure it won’t slip.

“That’s good.” Troy glances at his watch. “You better go. You’re going to be late for work.”

I almost slap my forehead with warm muffins and keys. Somehow between the music and the muffins, I forgot about being late.

Troy leans against the wall between our doors to let me pass. There’s a smile on his face I’ve never seen before. It’s mesmerizing the way one side of his mouth quirks up a quarter of an inch higher than the other side. I can’t look away so I take a step and then another with the trash bag bumping along the surface of the cement walkway.

I finally look away when the bag doesn’t follow me. I pull on it, but it’s snagged on something. Heat climbs my neck as I jerk harder.

The sound of plastic ripping fills the air, followed by the unmistakable clatter of empty steel cans. One rolls out from under the draining bag and comes to a rest against Troy’s sneaker. I stare at the Light Progresso label. I’m frozen. I can’t look at Troy. I can’t cut and run. I have a mess to clean up.

I don’t move until I hear the patter of scattering cereal.

“I suppose that was your breakfast,” says Troy.

I glance up at him, but his gaze is firmly fixed on my garbage spreading across the walkway. The breeze picks up a handful of the bite sized candy bar wrappers and sends them flapping off the edge to land willy-nilly across the complex. I finally come to my senses and drop the mostly empty bag.

“I can’t believe this!” I mutter. I step across the pile of trash to unlock my door.

“You’re going the wrong way,” says Troy. He catches me by the elbow. “Your car is the other way.”

My eyes widen. I swing my head and gape at him. “I can’t just leave this here.”

“Sure you can. I need to take out my own trash. I’ll just add this to my bag on my way.”

He’s still holding my elbow. It’s the second time he’s touched me this morning, if you don’t count the Ziploc wedging. We’ve been casual-visiting-on-the-walkway-neighbors for a year, not physical-contact-trash-cleaning-neighbors. I’m staring. I know it, but I don’t know how to stop.

My mouth opens and then closes. Then it opens again, and words spill out. “I can’t let you do that. I made the mess. I should clean it up. Besides, it is my trash. It’s would be embarrassing to let you.”

“I’ve already seen it.” He grins and rubs his stubble with his free hand.

I can’t help focusing on how his stubble enhances his jawline. He’s usually clean shaven. I shake the thought away when I see a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Don’t shake your head, Vinnie,” he says. He uses the hand on my elbow to gently pull me away from my door. It brings me close to him, almost as close as when I nearly rammed into him earlier.

My heart hammers against my ribs as he brings me another step nearer. We are inches apart. I can see his individual eyelashes. They curl in dark perfection. I catch a hint of a citrusy cologne. I want to breathe deeper, but we’re face to face, and he’s looking at me.

I panic and shift to put more space between us. My foot hits something, which then clangs into the wrought iron railing. I tear my gaze away from his and look down. I see the soup can spinning in a pile of smashed cereal flakes.

Troy tugs on my arm again before I look back up. “One more step. And another”

The two steps take me past Troy and my garbage. He releases my elbow. I look over my shoulder and see his hands disappear behind his back.

He lounges against the wall once more and sends a cheery smile my direction. “I’ll take care of this. Have a great day at work.”

“Thanks.” I head for the stairs instead of arguing.

I’m halfway to work before it occurs to me to wonder what Troy was doing outside my door.

Troy:

I watch Vinnie race down the stairs like the gazelle pursued by lions in the nature show I watched last night. I tell myself it’s because she is late for work, not because of me, but I can’t help wondering if she has any idea that I wanted to kiss her in the moments before she kicked that soup can.

I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. It’s a mistake because I immediately picture her wide brown eyes and plump lips set off by the touch of pink in her cheeks. My eyes pop open. I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m not sure she will even agree to the date I meant to ask her for this morning.

All I know for sure is that our casual greetings have turned into prolonged conversations during the last few months. Those conversations only seem to end when one of us notices we’re about to be late for something. I find myself living for our next encounter, and they aren’t happening often enough. My first attempt doesn’t end like I hope, but there will be other chances.

I walk into my apartment and grab my kitchen trashcan. It’s mostly empty, but I won’t ever tell Vinnie. I don’t want her to be more embarrassed over her spilled trash. I haul the wastebasket and broom outside to clean up the mess.

Her trash makes me smile. There are a few empty cans, some crumpled fast food advertisements, and a whole lot of cereal. That must be the breakfast the mouse ate. Other than that, all I find are mini Milky Way wrappers. This peek at her life makes me feel like a voyeur, but that doesn’t stop me from filing away her preference for Milky Ways. That might be useful information someday.

After I tie the bag shut, I carry it downstairs to the dumpster.

While I am happy I helped Vinnie, I can’t push away the frustration welling up. It’s hard not to feel like her running away is a sign that I shouldn’t ask her out.

As I amble back to my apartment I notice the complex laundromat, and it gives me an idea. Vinnie carries a basket of clothes past my front windows nearly every Saturday. I don’t know for certain that she uses the laundromat here, but I’m going to find out tomorrow morning when I do a load of my own.

Chapter Two

Vinnie:

I’m feeding quarters to the washer when I hear the laundromat door open. It’s probably Shelby from building D. I close the lid and face the door. My greeting dies on my lips when I see Troy lugging a basketful of crumpled clothes through the door.

His eyes light up. “Hey, Vinnie.”

“Hi.” My eyes do an automatic filing of information. He is as handsome as ever, even with wind tossed hair. The hunter green shirt clinging to his pecs and stretching across his biceps enhances the color of his eyes. And his smile… heaven help me. It’s not fair that I’ve noticed that asymmetrical smile of his.

He drops his basket with a thump by the washer next to me. It’s the only one with an open lid so I can’t let my imagination run wild.

After yesterday’s fiasco I want to keep tight control of myself and the situation, so I say, “Thanks for the muffins. They were delicious. Blueberry is my favorite.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them,” he says mostly to the washer because he’s bent over the top of it arranging his clothes in the drum. Then he turns his head toward me. “It’s about time I handed you baked goods instead of the other way around.”

I furrow my brow. “What?”

“Don’t you remember? You brought me chocolate chip cookies when I moved in.” He straightens up and twists towards me. “At Christmas you gave me snowman sugar cookies. They were so good I ate them all before I went to bed.”

I barely keep my mouth shut when he confesses to eating half a dozen large sugar cookies in one night. After hearing that, I don’t feel so bad about compulsively downing six or seven bite sized chocolates on occasion.

“You know,” he grins at me, “I can feel the judgement all the way over here.”

“All the way?” I bend my neck and eye the space between our shoes. “All two feet?”

“Yep.”

I snort a laugh, and then try not to blush. “It wasn’t judgement.”

Troy shuts the lid of the washer and inserts the prerequisite quarters. He leans against his machine and meets my gaze. “Then what was it?”

“I was impressed.”

He gives me a side eye look. “Because I ate them all?”

I slowly shake my head and keep my face straight. “No. Because you said it out loud. It takes courage to admit you have a problem.”

“A problem?” He blinks a few times.

“I hear admitting the problem is the first step to recovery, so congratulations on that.” I can’t believe I’m teasing him like this, but I am. What’s worse, I’m totally enjoying myself. I heave a big deep sigh. “I guess I’ll have to change my Christmas cookies for poinsettias this year. I can’t be the reason you fall off the wagon.”

I know he gets the joke when his mouth twitches, but he lays a hand on his heart and gives me a solemn glance. “Isn’t poinsettia poisonous if you eat it?”

“Eat it?” My eyes pop wide open. “Why would you eat it?”

He shrugs. “Maybe I would think it’s a do it yourself salad. Red and green leaves with a drizzle of ranch. It sounds Christmassy.”

A giggle bursts out of me. Within seconds both of us are laughing our heads off. I lean against the washer for support. Part of me wishes it was Christmas so I could surprise him with a poinsettia and a bottle of ranch. I will have to remember that.

Troy:

Every time Vinnie looks at me with those mischievous eyes I start laughing again. I swear it takes us a good five minutes to get it under control. It’s been ages since I laughed like that, and it makes me like her even more.

When she sobers up and crosses the room to the small table and chairs between the stacked dryers, I debate whether or not I should follow her. It’s like a knife to the gut when I notice the water bottle and book on the table. She sits down and picks up the bottle. She takes a long drink.

I take advantage of the moment to study her. Vinnie looks different without her scrubs. The jeans she’s wearing show off the legs her scrubs only hint at. Her exposed throat is creamy against her dark red flannel shirt. The way her brown hair ripples down her back reminds me over a waterfall. She looks natural and real. I like it.

As she lowers her water bottle I busy myself with my basket. I don’t want her to know I’ve been staring. I stash my detergent and dryer sheets in the basket and set it on top of my washer. When I turn around I find Vinnie watching me.

I’m not sure what it means that she doesn’t mind letting me know that she was watching me. There’s something a little bit different about her this morning. I’m not sure what it is exactly.

“You know you can sit over here, right?” She points at the other chair.

I wander over in what I hope is a casual manner and sit. To keep the conversation going I glance at her book and ask, “What are you reading?”

“Um…”

She sounds so hesitant I take another peek at the cover. All I see is a lady in an old fashioned dress. It looks like a book my sisters would like. I read the title out loud. “Lady Sarah’s Season. Is it any good?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t started it yet.” Vinnie pushes the book off to the side and rests her forearms on the table. “Did you make those muffins yesterday?”

“Betty Crocker makes a mean mix.” I’m still thinking about the book and her pink cheeks. I decide to look it up when I get back to my laptop.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She just did, but I nod anyway.

“Why make mini muffins?”

I lean back in the chair so I can see her whole reaction. “They are easier to eat with a fork.”

I have to give her credit. She almost pulls off a poker face. One of her eyebrows arches before she gets it under control.

“A fork?” She tilts her head down and peers up at me. All she needs is a pair of granny glasses to perfect the look. “You eat muffins with a fork?”

“Yep.” I smile as serenely as possible. “I don’t like crumbs on my fingers.”

Her throat convulses, but her face stays impassive. It’s impressive, really.

“What’s wrong with crumbs? They brush off easy.”

I relent and tell her the truth. “I usually eat breakfast while I’m working. Mini muffins and forks keep my fingers clean and my keyboard tidy.”

“Oh.” She nods. “That makes sense.”

“I was pretty happy when I figured it out. I like muffins almost as much as sugar cookies.”

Vinnie smiles at my attempt to be funny. “Where do you work?”

“Mobile Application Solutions.” The name rolls off my tongue awkwardly. I usually refer to my company as MAS, but I’m sure that won’t mean anything to her. As a sort of explanation I add, “I’m a software application developer.”

“You make apps, like for phones?”

“Basically, yes.”

“That’s so cool. I’m just a nurse in a pediatric office.”

That explains all her cartoon character scrubs, but I don’t like the way she dismisses her job. “Just a nurse? That’s nobler than what I do. You keep kids healthy, and you get to wear cool scrubs. I don’t get to wear Minions and Mickey Mouse to work.”

She squints at me. “Do you even own shirts with Minions or Mickey on them?”

“Well, no.” Then I remember the present my parents gave us kids for Christmas two years ago. “I do have Minion pajamas.”

She giggles. “Yeah, right.”

“No, seriously. It’s the footed onesie kind. I’m considering wearing it on Halloween to pass out candy.” I bless my mother for the gift when Vinnie keeps laughing.

She wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Thanks for making me laugh. I needed it.”

I take a good look at her. There’s faint circles under her eyes. I feel the urge to pound whatever is stealing her sleep and making her worry. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s that mouse.”

“Mouse?” I’m nonplussed at first. “Oh, the cereal eater. Did you catch it?”

“Nope. And last night I heard it gnawing on something in my room. I turned on the lights several times, and it got quiet. I couldn’t find it any of the times, but a few minutes after I shut the lights off, it started again.”

“Cheeky little bugger.”

She props her chin on her hand. “I’m tired.”

“What did you use for bait?”

“I bought some traps that don’t use bait. They look like clamps. You’re supposed to leave them around the edge of the room and mice walk through them and it snaps on them.”

“Maybe I’m wrong, but the tried and proven method might be better.” I don’t want to come off as bossy, but this mouse is causing her suffering. “Regular traps use bait instead of luck.”

Vinnie’s face pales. Her eyes flit to the washers and back to me. “One of my fingers got caught in one when I was five. It broke, and now I have an irrational fear of them.”

I look the pinkie finger she’s holding up. It looks perfectly normal to me. Her scars must be psychological. “That doesn’t sound irrational.”

“It does when a mouse is terrorizing you.” The corners of her mouth twist down in a self-deprecating grimace.

“You know,” I say slowly, hoping she doesn’t misunderstand my intentions, “I could probably help you with the traps. I can put them wherever you need them. That way you catch the mouse and don’t have to touch them.”

Vinnie bites her lip. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered. I’m trying to be a good neighbor.” I hope my smile isn’t too enthusiastic. I’d love another opportunity to interact with my pretty neighbor.

Chapter Three

Vinnie:

The Holy Grail of Handsome Neighbors is coming to my apartment!

Honestly, I can’t believe I offered him dinner in exchange for setting a few mousetraps, but I did. I’m scrambling to make sure my entire apartment is presentable. I load the dishwasher. I dust the living room. I wipe down the bathroom. I make my bed and shove all my shoes in the closet.

Troy is due in a few minutes. I stare at my cupboards for dinner inspiration, but nothing strikes my fancy. As much as I would love to impress him with a great home cooked meal, I cleaned my apartment this afternoon instead of grocery shopping. My options seem limited to pasta or sandwiches on old bread. Will he think ordering a pizza is a copout?

I decide to go with pizza before rushing down the short hall to my bedroom. He’s doing me a favor, not taking me on a date, but that doesn’t mean I can’t touch up my makeup and comb my hair. I experiment with a braid and then a messy bun.

I’m debating whether the messy bun looks like I’m making an obvious effort when my doorbell rings. My heart leaps into my throat as I take one more look at myself in the mirror. I think I look cute in a neighborly, nonthreatening kind of way, which is exactly what I want. I smile and tell my reflection that we’ve got this before I shut off the light and head for the door.

Once I open the door I quit worrying about my messy bun. Troy’s wearing a dark blue button down shirt and has styled his hair. I’m pretty sure he put on more cologne because the citrusy scent from yesterday morning is back. I smile. “Hi.”

“I brought the traps and some bait.” Troy holds up the grocery sack he’s carrying.

“Great. Come in.” I stand aside so he can enter. I allow myself one deep breath as he passes. He smells so good. I think I’m in love with his cologne.

He stops just inside the door and looks around my living room. I follow his eyes as he surveys the space. His frank perusal starts with my groaning bookshelves lining the far wall and wrapping halfway around the other wall. It moves to the comfy extra-large recliner, where I like to curl up and read, past the floor lamp in the corner, and settles on the overstuffed loveseat and coffee table that face the small television in the midst of my books.

Troy meets my eyes. “I like it. It’s a lot homier than my place.”

“Thanks.” I feel too pleased by the simple compliment so I try to blow it off. “It’s probably just that little bit of feminine touch.”

He smiles. “Maybe, but I think it might be the books. They remind me of home.”

While I try to process whether that is a good thing or not, he wanders over to my shelves and starts looking at my books. He pulls one out and smiles over his shoulder at me. “You have my favorite.”

“You like The Hobbit?” I’m drawn to his side like a magnet to iron. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Which do you like better, the movies or the book?”

My face scrunches up. “Don’t tell me you are one of those people who like movie adaptations better than books.”

Troy looks at all my books and conspicuous lack of movies. “Have you ever seen the movies?”

“No. They put Legolas in them. That’s just wrong.”

He chuckles. “Okay, so they took some liberties, but the movies are still pretty good.”

I tilt my head to one side and grimace. “Are they?”

“I see.” He stands there looking at me. Then he holds up The Hobbit. It’s a nondescript hardback copy without a cover that I found in a thrift store. “Do you judge a book by its cover?”

“Not usually.”

“But you’re willing to judge a whole movie trilogy without watching it? How is that fair?”

He’s still smiling, but I think he’s serious about his question. I sigh. “I suppose it’s not.”

“You’re right, it’s not. You ought to watch them before you make up your mind.”

“Too bad I don’t have them. I could watch one tonight.” I’m being completely flippant. I have no intentions of watching any of The Hobbit movies. I already know the book is better. It always is.

A huge grin stretches Troy’s mouth wide. There’s a glint in his eye that I’m not sure I trust.

“It just so happens that I own them,” he says.

Well, that explains the glint. My pained smile probably looks unnatural because he appears even more amused than before.

“We could watch the first one after I set the traps.”

While my traitorous heart leaps at the sound of we, I still don’t want to watch it. The last time I watched an adaptation it ruined the characters so completely I couldn’t stand the book. I’m not doing that to one of my favorites. “Or I could just borrow it.”

Troy throws his head back and laughs. I stand there in disbelief as his laughter bounces around my living room.

He finally gets his mirth under control and shakes his head at me. “Not a chance. It’s a package deal so I know you actually watched it.”

My cheeks are scorching hot. I bet I could roast a marshmallow in the heat emanating from them. “Was I that obvious?”

“About as obvious as your love of books.” He shelves The Hobbit and then considers me. “I think you might enjoy it, but you’ll never know unless you take a chance.”

Sometime about the way he says it makes my insides quiver. It’s like he’s talking about something besides the movie. Am I willing to take a chance that he might mean more? My heart skips a beat or two when I know I am. “What kind of pizza do you like?”

“Pizza?” His brow furrows.

“I promised you dinner, and pizza goes really well with movies.”

Troy:

Vinnie is ordering the pizza on her phone while I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. I don’t want any of the traps to snap on me because I’m too excited to concentrate. I smear peanut butter on the traps and have them ready for placement by the time Vinnie puts down her phone.

“Where do you want them?” I ask when she comes over to the table.

She frowns. “I know he’s been in the pantry and my bedroom. Maybe two in each room?”

Careful to keep my fingers clear of the mechanism, I pick up two of the traps. “If you open the pantry door, I’ll take care of it.”

She opens the door and points the mostly empty bottom shelf. “That’s where he ate my cereal.”

I set one in the corner of the shelf and then crouch down to place the other one along the floorboard. An almost empty bag of mini Milky Way bars catches my eye as I stand back up. It reminds me of the empty wrappers and I want to smile. Instead I head back to the table for the other traps.

“Follow me,” she says.

Her apartment mirrors the layout of mine so I don’t actually need a guide, but I don’t want her to be uncomfortable. I follow.

I stop in the doorway and take in the room. It’s so her, from the cheerful patchwork quilt on her bed to the pile of books on the nightstand. There’s a potted plant trailing over the edge of her dresser and a collage of framed photos between the two windows. It’s definitely the room of someone who knows how to be herself.

“I heard the mouse over here.” She points to the wall with the dresser and closet door.

I eye the closet. I don’t want to intrude on her last bit of privacy. “Um, why don’t I put one by the closet door and one under the dresser?”

“Sounds great.” She sounds a bit uncomfortable, not that I blame her. I’m a virtual stranger with no business in her bedroom.

I position the first trap next to the closet door, along the edge of the floorboard. I don’t want her to accidentally set it off with her toes. Then I kneel next to the dresser and carefully push the trap into place by the back leg farthest from the door. I figure the traps are far enough apart to be effective if there is more than one mouse.

“Okay, the traps are set.”

“Great. Thank you, Troy.”

“No problem.” I jump to my feet and head for the bathroom. I’m in the middle of washing peanut butter and mousetrap off my hands when I realize I should have asked Vinnie’s permission first.

I sheepishly wander into her living room. She’s not in there. I can hear movement in the kitchen so I go that way.

Vinnie’s back is to me. She is getting plates out of her cupboard. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at me.

The image hits me hard. It makes my heart pound so loud I can’t believe she doesn’t hear it. Vinnie’s mouth moves, but I can’t hear anything over the blood pulsing through my head. I feel gut punched and energized all at the same time because a year ago I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who feels like homecoming.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to say after a few seconds or minutes. I really don’t know how long it’s been since she spoke. Long enough she looks concerned. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted water or lemonade.”

“Water’s great, thanks.”

I stand there like an idiot while she gets two glasses out of the cupboard. I clear my throat. She looks up. “I just want to apologize for using your bathroom without permission.” I want to slap myself for being so awkward. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Vinnie glances at me funny. “It’s not a big deal. I’m glad you’re comfortable.”

I’m so not comfortable right this second. I don’t know what to do with my hands or anything. I need some kind of cover. “Can I help with something?”

“Will you get ice out of the freezer?”

By the time I get the tray of ice out of the freezer I am feeling more like myself. I crack the tray and drop two into one of the glasses. “How many for you?”

“Two, please.” She grabs the plates and a stack of napkins.

I put the tray back in the freezer and follow her back to the living room. She sets the plates and napkins down on the coffee table. I’m about to set down the glasses when she whips two coasters out from the bottom part of the coffee table.

“I’m going to go get the movie,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

In less than thirty seconds I’m standing in my sterile living room. The modern furniture my last girlfriend begged me to buy reminds me of the reception areas in movies. I snatch the extended version of An Unexpected Journey off my shelf and hurry back to the welcoming warmth of Vinnie’s apartment.

At my door I pause. I pull my phone out of my pocket and toss it on the couch. I don’t want anything to interrupt my time with Vinnie.

I get to her door, and I don’t know what to do. Should I ring the doorbell? Should I just walk in? Neither one feels right. I settle for a knock and letting myself in. It’s not too formal and hopefully not to presumptuous.

Vinnie walks in from the now dark kitchen area. Her smile is a little tight. I pause in the doorway. Maybe I should have rung the doorbell. “Should I have rung the bell?”

“What? No. I knew it was you.”

Her breezy words don’t match the wrinkling corners of her eyes. My heart sinks. She doesn’t want me here. I’m forcing this on her, and that’s not how I want this to work. “We don’t have to watch this if you don’t want. I don’t want to outstay my welcome.”

Her ensuing smile lights her whole face. “I’m not sure I want to watch it, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

That smile pulls me in. She’s a lighthouse in a storm when she smiles like that. I’m helpless to resist. I hand her the movie when she holds out her hand.

She waves at the loveseat. “Make yourself comfortable, but know that I always sit on the left.”

I sink into the right side of the loveseat and immediately feel like I’m taking too much space, even though I’m not a large man. I try to angle myself in the corner, but the throw pillows push me back to the center. I want to remove one or two, but I don’t want to put them between the two of us. I may not want to rush Vinnie into anything, but I also don’t want to deny her the opportunity if she decides to take it.

The screen turns the room blue as she turns on the television. She comes back to the loveseat and promptly throws a couple of pillows on the floor. I do the same and finally settle into my side. It’s a lot more comfortable without the pillows, definitely more comfortable than my angular sofa.

An hour into the movie, we’ve eaten our fill of pizza. I’ve relaxed, and so has Vinnie. She is paying rapt attention to the movie. I think she’s forgotten all about me as she watches Bilbo outthink the three trolls. I’m okay with that. I kind of like having the freedom to sneak glances at her.

During one of my glances I notice she’s moved her right hand from her lap. It’s resting in the small space between us. I hope I’m not reading her wrong when I reach over and slip my hand under hers. I watch the corner of her mouth lift as her fingers curl around mine.

It’s been a little over a year since I held a girl’s hand. My racing heart makes me feel like I’m back in high school instead of a few years from thirty. I can’t believe this is happening.

Vinnie:

I can’t believe this is happening. Troy’s fingers are entwined with mine. It feels so natural and right. I can’t help smiling at the screen even though Biblo is in trouble again. I risk a glance at Troy and discover him watching me like I’m the most precious person on earth. It takes my breath away.

His asymmetrical smile blooms in response to mine. I want to scoot over and lean against him, but it’s too much too fast. I tear my eyes away and focus on the screen. I find myself hoping that the movie never ends so I don’t have to let go.

I let the movie suck me back in, but the feel of his hand on mine is an itch at the back of my mind that I cannot ignore. I feel it through everything.

When the orcs catch up to the fleeing dwarves, I tense up. A gasp escapes when Thorin falls. My heart in my throat, I lean forward, silently cheering Bilbo’s ensuing heroism when I’m distracted. My heart lightens as it floats back to its normal location, but a million butterflies take flight in my stomach. Troy’s thumb is lightly running over my own. Somehow I know he wants to reassure me.

I settle back in the loveseat in a way that brings me closer to Troy. The movie is engrossing, but it isn’t as real as the man holding my hand. I close my eyes for a few seconds on concentrate on the rasp of his skin over my knuckle. His palm shifts away. I want to protest, but the words are silenced before I speak as his thumb trails along my thumb and across my wrist. The tip of his thumb follows the crease in the middle of my palm and then back down.

I melt against his shoulder as he grasps my hand firmly once more. I keep my eyes on the television, but I notice very little of the action as my mind whirls with the connection tugging my emotions ever closer to Troy.

Troy:

My cheeks are beginning to ache from all the smiling I’m doing, but I can’t help the grin spreading across my face as Vinnie’s head comes to a rest against my shoulder. This moment is enough to fill the hole in my heart. I don’t move the rest of the movie for fear she will sit up.

The movie ends.

The credits rolls.

The screen finally returns to the menu, but neither of us move. Vinnie stays in place. Her shoulders move in rhythm with her breathing.

I don’t realize she’s asleep until I feel the moisture on my sleeve. I’m torn between awe that she was comfortable enough to sleep and anxiety that I bored her. As much as I’d like to stay exactly where I am, I know I can’t abuse her trust that way.

I jiggle our hands and stretch my back simultaneously.

Vinnie lifts her head. She releases my hand. I stretch my arms high over my head and pretend I don’t see her wiping off her chin. She is rubbing her hand against her jeans when I stop stretching.

I ask, “So, what did you think of the movie?”

“I’m willing to watch the second one, if that tells you anything.”

It tells me everything. “Tomorrow?”

Vinnie shoulders slump. She lets out a puff of air. “I always spend Sundays with my family. I don’t know what time I will be home.”

“If it’s not too late, we can still watch it. Otherwise, there’s always Monday, or next weekend.” I try to give her options, but I’m hoping she doesn’t choose the weekend. I am not sure if I can wait that long for an excuse to hold her hand again.

She bites her lips and squints at me. Then her face clears. “Do you have your phone?”

“It’s in my apartment.”

“I’ll get mine then.” She bounces out of the loveseat and disappears into the kitchen.

I stand up and get my movie out of the player. I’m closing the cover when Vinnie returns and hands me her phone. The new contact screen greets my eyes. I type in my name and number and hit save.

“Thanks,” she says as I hand it back. “I’ll let you know tomorrow if I’ll be home in time.”

“Great.” I hesitate. I’m not sure how to say goodbye. I clear my throat and shift my feet. “Thanks for dinner and everything. I had fun.”

“Me too.” She starts for the door so I follow her.

I walk through the door when she opens it, but once I’m outside I catch her eye. “I hope I see you tomorrow.”

Her smile lights the night. “I hope you do too. Good night.”

A few seconds later I’m back in my apartment pumping my arm and whisper yelling “Yes!” Tomorrow is not going to come fast enough.

Chapter Four

Vinnie:

The first thing I do when I get out of bed is check the mousetrap under my dresser. I already know the one by my closet isn’t touched. I kneel down on the carpet and peer under my dresser. My stomach sinks. There is a dead mouse under my dresser. I pull back and sit on my heels.

What am I supposed to do now?

Logic dictates that I retrieve the trap and dispose of the remains, but fear wraps its iron grip around my lungs and squeezes. I hear the sharp crack and feel the snap of my bone. My pinkie throbs, even though it has been eighteen years.

I wrap my arms around myself. I can’t touch the trap. I just can’t.

Unfortunately, I can’t just leave it there. I’ve caught enough whiffs of decomposing animals to know I don’t want that odor in my apartment. I steel my nerves and lean back down. My hand is inches from the trap, but it won’t move. I cannot force my hand the rest of the way.

In this war of mouse versus me, the mouse is going to get the last laugh.

Trying to ignore it while I get ready doesn’t work. The whole time I’m in the shower it’s on my mind. I swear I can smell rank rottenness the moment I walk back into my room. This isn’t going to work. I need help.

I throw on the first clothes I find and march to my front door.

Troy:

The doorbell rings while I’m tying my tie for church. For a second I doubt myself. My doorbell has only rung a few times in the year I’ve lived here, and never on a Sunday. Doubt flies when I hear it a second time.

Nothing prepares me for the shock of finding Vinnie on the other side of my door. She’s wearing the weirdest combination of toothpaste green pajama pants, yesterday’s flannel shirt buttoned askew, and fuzzy blue socks. Her wild wet hair reminds me of my sisters after a day at the lake. It’s the panic in her eyes that holds my attention. “What’s the matter?”

Tears shine in her eyes. “I can’t do it.”

Her words rip through my heart. I had one chance, and apparently I blew it. I know I’m going to fumble this, but I have to try. “Can I change your mind?”

Her hands fly to her hips. She frowns at me. “I told you I was scared. I tried, but I can’t.”

I’m so confused. Never once did she mention being scared at the possibility of us. I shake my head to clear it, but nothing makes sense. There’s nothing left in me but honesty. “I don’t understand. What about last night?”

Her forehead wrinkles and her brows draw together. She scrunches her eyes shut for a few seconds and then gives me this look. “What does this have to do with last night?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.” Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. For the first time in my life I hope I am. “What can’t you do?”

“I can’t touch the trap. I promise, I tried.” Her bottom lips pokes out the tiniest little bit.

“We caught the mouse?” I’m so relieved I laugh out loud.

Vinnie’s bottom lip trembles, but her chin juts out. “You don’t have to laugh at me. Psychological scars aren’t funny.”

“Oh, honey, I’m not laughing at you.” I want to kick myself as I hear my grandma coming out of my mouth. Of all the people I could repeat, why did I just pick my grandma? My face goes up in flames as Vinnie’s eyes pop. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s something my grandma always says.”

She covers her mouth, but it doesn’t contain the sound of her giggle. At least she isn’t mad at me anymore. Maybe I should send my grandma some flowers as a thank you.

I try again. “You want me to come take of the mouse?”

“Yes, please.” She bites her bottom lip. “I really did try, but I can’t make myself touch it.”

I strike a superhero pose. “Super Troy to the rescue.”

She giggles again and grabs my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She tugs me out my door and into her apartment and leads me down the hall.

It only takes seconds for me to catalog the floral sheets on her bed, the damp towel discarded in a heap beside the bed, and the empty trap near the closet.

“It’s under there.” She points at the dresser.

In a matter of seconds I’ve retrieved the trap and the mouse. Vinnie shrinks back to let me leave the room. She doesn’t seem to be breathing. I hope she isn’t the fainting type.

I look over my shoulder and ask, “Have you checked the other traps?”

She looks horrified. “No. Do you think there is more than one?”

“It’s possible. I’ll check.”

I head to the kitchen and drop the mouse and trap into the trash. I have no interest in keeping the instrument of death while three remain functional. I’m washing my hands when Vinnie catches up to me.

She glances around the kitchen. “Where’s the mouse?”

“In the trash.”

She blanches.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take it out when I leave.”

“Thank you.”

I open the pantry door. I look at the inside and sigh. “You want the bad news?”

“There’s bad news?” She put her hand on my bicep and pokes her head around. “Oh.”

The two of us look at the shredded corner of the chocolate chip bag and the bits of chocolate dribbling out of the bag. The empty traps jeer at us.

“What are the chances we caught him in the bedroom?” She whispers in my ears like the mouse is listening.

“Slim to none.” I turn my head. Our eyes meet. We’re inches apart again. I wish this proximity wasn’t always the result of a mouse. I take a deep breath and wrench my eyes and my thoughts back to the mess in the pantry. “Why would the mouse eat peanut butter in the bedroom after ignoring it in here first?”

Vinnie scoots closer to me. Her grip on my bicep tightens. “There’s another one?”

“I think so.”

She leans her head on my shoulder. I think she is looking in the pantry, but I don’t really know. Her wet hair smells fruity, but I can’t place the scent. I like it though.

“What if we use chocolate chips as bait? It obviously likes them,” she says after a few seconds.

That’s how I find myself trading peanut butter for chocolate chips on the two pantry traps a minute later. Much to my disappointment, Vinnie disappears around the corner. I reset the traps and place them back in the pantry. I even get the chocolate chips cleaned up and thrown away. I’m holding the bag of trash and about to give up on Vinnie coming back when she reappears.

She is in a simple blue dress that hugs her curves but swings around her knees. I don’t know how that works, but I love the way it looks. Her damp combed hair reveals a tendency to curl that I never noticed before. I’m pretty sure she’s makeup free, and she’s still the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve thought about this a lot lately. I think it’s the innate kindness that shines through her eyes. “Wow. You look great!”

She beams at me.

I’m so glad the kitchens in our complex are small. I could reach over and touch her without moving if I wanted. I realize I’ve actually moved when my fingers graze her cheek and I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

I snatch my hand back and clear my throat. “I think I better go. I’m going to be late for church.”

I’m halfway to the door when she calls my name. I turn around.

Vinnie smiles and says, “I’ll be home by five.”

Chapter Five

Vinnie:

I keep glancing at the clock on the dining room wall. We’ve been at the table for an eternity, but the clocks says it’s only eight minutes. I can’t concentrate on the conversation. I think it has something to do with my twin brothers’ upcoming rivalry football game. I smile and nod like I’m listening, but the reality is that my mind keeps replaying the moment mine and Troy’s eyes met that morning when we surveyed the mess in the pantry.

I know he wanted to kiss me. I could see it in his eyes. It was a moment in the making for months, and it’s killing me that he didn’t take the chance. I’m both grateful and frustrated that he is such a gentleman. In the last eighteen hours he has given me ample opportunities to stick to our familiar friendship. I think maybe I might have to take the initiative like I did with making my hand available last night.

My cheeks warm at the thought, but it won’t leave. I want to kiss Troy.

Another check of the clock leaves me dismal. We’ve only been sitting here eleven minutes. This meal is never going to end.

As soon as Sunday dinner is over, I rush to clear the table and help with the dishes. Normally I would stay and spend the rest of the afternoon with my family, but I have the uncontrollable urge to go watch the second Hobbit movie.

I hug my parents goodbye.

“What’s the hurry?” asks my dad.

Keys in my hand, I pause in the doorway. I know there’s a huge smile on my face when I say, “I have to find the Holy Grail.”

My dad narrows his eyes and mouths the words I just said. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mom’s face as it dawns on her. My best friend has mentioned my neighbor’s nickname lots of time, and I’ve spent a fair amount of time mooning over him the last few months. My dad turns to her in confusion. I slip out before anyone can interrogate me.

I cut six minutes off my thirty minute drive. It’s barely two thirty when I pull into the complex parking lot. I park next to Troy’s silver Accord and sprint up the stairs to our apartments.

I’m panting outside his door. I lean over with my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath. I almost have it under control when the door opens. My gaze fastens on his hot air balloon sock clad feet at the end of his jeans.

“Are you oaky, Vinnie?”

I straighten up, look him in the eye, and say, “I can’t do it. I tried.”

He winces, but presses on. “Tried what?”

“Waiting until five.”

He can’t hide the smile that crosses his face, and I don’t want him to. I adore the crookedness of it.

Troy:

Vinnie’s confession speeds up my heartrate. It feels like it might gallop right out of my chest, but I’m not quite ready to watch the movie. She doesn’t know it, but she caught me in the middle of arranging a surprise. I need a few minutes to finish. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be at your place with the movie.”

“I can work with that. See you in five minutes.”

“I’ll be there.” I close my door and rush to the bathroom. I scrub my teeth while I shove my feet into a pair of shoes. I spit, rinse, and give myself a once over in the mirror. I don’t like the t-shirt. I change it for a lightweight sweater.

I go to the kitchen to finish arranging the treats I bought last night after I left her apartment. I want it to look like a professional arranged everything. It doesn’t, but it will have to do.

I ring her doorbell with fifteen seconds left on the clock.

Vinnie takes her time to open the door. I focus on her face. It registers in the back of my mind that she’s wearing jeans and a fitted shirt now, but what matters is her smile. As she invites me in, I hope she likes my surprise.

“I brought something.” I pull the basket out from behind my back and hand it to her.

She takes the basket. Her gaze flits around the not so artfully arranged snacks. I know she sees the package of unwrapped Milky Way bars when the corner of her mouth lifts. She looks at me sideways. “I see you paid attention to my trash on Friday.”

“I’m a details kind of guy,” I say with a grin. “Besides, it’s a long movie. Snacks might be nice at some point.”

“Fair enough.” She hands me the movie from the basket.

I hear her going through the basket as I insert the disc. There’s the distinct sound of a plastic bag opening. I’m positive it’s the chocolate. I smile to myself.

It takes me a minute to settle into my side of the loveseat. This time I remove a pillow from behind me, but I leave the one next to the arm so I have an excuse to sit a little closer to Vinnie.

She slips her hand into mine and leans against my shoulder as the movie begins.

CRACK!

The noise echoes through the apartment.

Vinnie sits up. Her head whips back and forth. “What was that?”

“A mousetrap. Didn’t you hear the trap last night?”

“No.” She peers at me with blatant surprise. “It can’t have been that loud.”

“I don’t know. Maybe the carpet dulled the sound. But I’m pretty sure that was another mouse just now.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “It’s an infestation.”

I can’t help grinning. “We’ll have to leave the other traps out for a few days, but I think that’s the last one.”

She looks a little green around the gills. I leave her there to go check the traps.

There is a mouse in the trap. I hope it’s really dead when I reach for the trap. It flops to the side as I pick it up. I let the pent up air out of my lungs with a whoosh and drop it in the trash bag. I tie a big knot in the bag before I wash my hands.

I’m drying my hands when Vinnie calls my name. I take the towel with me as I walk back to the living room. I find Vinnie perched on the arm of the loveseat. She’s biting her lips again. I’m not sure what’s making her nervous.

She stands up when she sees me. “Did we get him?”

I nod at her. “We did.”

I’m about to take the towel back to the kitchen when she launches herself at me and wraps her arms around my neck.  My hands are tangled in the towel and smooshed between us, but Vinnie doesn’t seem to care. She stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine in a swift kiss.

The kiss is maddening. It’s too short. My arms are stuck. It’s not the romantic moment I planned, and yet when I see the look in her eyes as she pulls back, it’s nothing short of perfect.

A soft smile lingers on her lips as she moves away. I toss the towel to the side. With my hands free, I close the distance between us with one step.

I cradle her face with gentle hands. My thumbs feast on the soft contours of her cheeks. The trust in her eyes humbles me. Out of all the men in the world, she has chosen me.

My heart hammers as her eyes close. I brush the corner of her mouth with my lips. She turns to meet me.

I am lost and found in this moment. I don’t want it to ever end.

Vinnie:

I’m spiraling in a haze of bliss as Troy finally kisses me. It’s so much better than I ever imagined.

He ends the kiss and presses his cheek against mine. His heart pounds under my hand, matching mine beat for beat, as he holds me tight. Goosebumps form on my arm as his breath tickles my ear.

“Vinnie?” His voice is so low I almost don’t hear it.

“Hmm?”

He draws his head back and looks into my eyes. “I’m going to kiss you again.”

I slide my hand up around his neck and let my fingers toy with his hair. I lift my face and say, “That is the best idea you’ve had today.”

This kiss is even better than the first. It leaves me weak kneed and breathless. I hope this moment never ends, but Troy’s arms drop.

Before I can be too disappointed, his left hand clasps my right hand. Our fingers twine together, two halves becoming a whole. With his right hand, he brushes my hair back and tucks it behind my ear. His fingers trail down my neck to my shoulder, invoking a shiver.

He swallows and says, “I hope it’s not too early to say this, but I love you, Vinnie.”

Warmth envelopes me. I feel ready to explode with the joy surging through me. “I love you too.”

Troy:

Somehow, even though the world has tilted on its axle, we eventually manage to start the movie again. Vinnie is securely tucked in my arm with the fingers of her right hand curled around the fingers of my left hand. The scent of her shampoo tickles my senses, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I’ve never felt so complete or right with the world as I do in this moment. Everything in my life is as peaceful as the scene on the screen as the dwarves sleep in Beorn’s house. I am as content as the mice wandering around the pawns on Beorn’s chessboard.

My happy thoughts are interrupted as Vinnie giggles. Her giggle morphs into laughter. Her body shakes with it. My eyes jerk back to the screen, but there is no discernible reason for her mirth.

“The mice.” She lets go of my hand and sits up between gasps of laughter.

I love her, but I’m not so sure I understand her. “What’s so funny about the mice?”

“It’s silly, really, but the mice just reminded me of something I thought on Friday morning.” She’s grinning at me like it’s the funniest thing ever.

“You might have to expand on that.”

“When I discovered my cereal on the shelf and floor, I was really put out.” She lifts an eyebrow as if to ask if I’m following her story.

This I understand. I nod.

“I’ve been watching Disney movies my whole life, and the mice in those movies are usually so helpful and sweet. In Cinderella they make her a dress and get her ready for the party. The mice from the Rescuers are adorable. There’s a few questionable ones in The Great Mouse Detective, but again, most of them are cute.”

Her smile is adorable and so tempting, but I don’t want to interrupt.

She continues, “So, having been raised on Disney mice, it was kind of a letdown to have mice eating my breakfast and making me late for work. I mean, I’d rather have a pretty dress.”

“I think most girls would.”

“It just occurred to me that my mice might not sew, but what they did is better than a dress.” She looks at me expectantly.

I still don’t get it. “Ate your food and kept you awake?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Vinnie snuggles up to me. “They brought me love.”

My smile matches hers as I hold her close. “They were the best mice ever. May they rest in peace.”

“And not have any friends and relatives nearby,” she adds fervently.