Love with the Next Door Neighbor by Kris T. Bethke

Author:Kris T. Bethke [Bethke, Kris T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2020-10-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

If Dylan had spent the night, if I hadn’t been alone this morning, I would have been fine. But without him there, all I could do was think about the night before, the things I had said, the things I had admitted to. I was embarrassed down to my core. I didn’t know if it was because of my age, or how I’d been raised, or even just because I wasn’t used to talking about these kinds of things. But I was mortified I’d said all that out loud, and even worse that I’d said it to Dylan, despite the fact that he’d shared his own fantasies.

There was a part of me that knew the emotion was illogical. I had nothing to be ashamed of. Every person had different wants and desires. But no matter how many times I told myself it was fine, that Dylan had not only liked it but had been turned on by it, that he wanted what I wanted and how amazing and rare that was, it didn’t help. I was still embarrassed, and still regretting last night. Years of getting negative comments, or just being ignored, was hard to let go of.

I shouldn’t have told him. I shouldn’t have given him a chance. Or us a chance. Whatever it was. I should have just kept my mouth shut, and continued to shut him out. And even if that wouldn’t have made me happy in the long run, at least I wouldn’t have had this pit of dread riding in my stomach.

What made things worse was it was Tuesday—which meant fucking invoices—and my hand hurt like a bitch. Dylan’s text early this morning to remind me to take my meds was sweet, and it had made me smile for the briefest of moments. I hadn’t actually needed the reminder, though, because I’d been desperate for some pain relief and Dylan had set the antibiotics right next to the Ibuprofen bottle on the kitchen counter.

The only days I didn’t work for clients were Sundays and Tuesdays. Sundays were my day to relax and do my own yard work, but Tuesdays were all about the admin side of the business. Invoices, of course, which made me grumpy but also all the other things I needed to do as a business owner. The problem was, without the physical side of things to keep me occupied, I had plenty of time to think. As the day wore on, less paperwork got done and the more I sat there thinking about all the things I shouldn’t have said or done.

Why couldn’t I just be happy that I’d finally found someone who wanted to give me what I needed in the bedroom and wanted to take care of me outside of it? I was hung up on our age difference—which was particularly stupid since Dylan had shown over and over again he was miles more mature than a lot of people his age, and certainly far more mature than I

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