Grumpy Bad Boy Next Door by Harper Giselle

Author:Harper, Giselle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AKQ Publishing
Published: 2024-01-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

SOPHIE

I delved deeper into my writing over the next several days. The characters in my novel became my friends, offering a temporary respite from the uncertainty that had taken over my life since things with Leo had started falling apart.

Mornings resumed the same old bittersweet routine as every day I sat at my desk and watched Leo's departure for work through my window, serving as a poignant reminder of the connection we’d once shared and the growing distance between us.

Each sighting of him stirred a longing deep in my heart—a yearning for his presence and the laughter we had once shared. Yet, I couldn't ignore the inner turmoil that continued to hold me captive.

In my novel, I continued to portray Leo as a sort of antihero, crafting a narrative that both celebrated the things that attracted me to him and warranted his removal from my life. It became a defense mechanism, shielding me from the ache of his loss.

Every word I wrote down on those pages served as an act of defiance against the pull of my own heart. I convinced myself that I didn't need him—that he would only come around and hurt me.

Deep down, though, I knew that Leo was a better man than that. Pushing him from my life had been an act of cowardice, not self-preservation, and I had hurt his good heart in the process. Even as I wrote his character into scenes where I imagined Leo as someone who I was better off without, I knew it was all a charade.

As the days of the calendar flew by me, I watched Leo’s door for signs of his moving on. I secretly found myself hoping to look out my window and find a woman sneaking out his front door in last night’s dress, just like I’d observed dozens of times before he and I had grown close. At least then I could finally begin to move on, free of the guilt of hurting his feelings.

It brought some relief, but I seemed to always be looking for reasons to doubt his character anyway.

It never happened, though. It was as if Leo was frozen too—unable to move forward from the connection we’d shared. Had he lost interest in pursuing romantic connections because he was hung up on me? Or was he simply being more discreet now that he had an ex-lover living next door?

A couple times, I caught him in my peripheral vision looking toward the house. I’d scooted my chair away from the window casually, hoping he’d turn around and go away without us having to acknowledge one another.

My heart continued to ache for him despite my relentless efforts to convince myself otherwise. Was pushing him away a mistake?

Not wanting to think about it anymore, I buried myself in the narrative I had woven, painting Leo as a selfish, cruel playboy. I wrote him so unlikeable that I began to wonder how I would ever find a way for my female protagonist to redeem him. Over time, though, I stopped writing him for her.

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