Before my neighbor, Dylan Price, left for college, he stopped me in my tracks. His head was bowed, ears flushed crimson, as he mumbled, “Can I be your boyfriend?” I simply turned away, tossing over my shoulder, “I like *mature* men.” Five years later, he pinned me against a wall, his hand cupping my chin, forcing me to look away— My boyfriend was intimately wrapping his arm around another woman’s waist, leisurely browsing in a luxury store. “Is *that* the mature man you like, Avery?” Dylan whispered, his hot breath making my scalp prickle. I stared at the cheating couple in the luxury store. After a moment’s thought, I pulled out my phone and snapped a few damning photos. Dylan was already standing straight, hands tucked into his pockets, looking down at me with an almost smug air. “Avery, your taste is *shockingly* bad.” I rolled my eyes at him, utterly annoyed, and made to leave. But he followed me. “You’re just going to let it go? Avery, that’s not like you.” “Just a moment ago it was ‘sis, sis,’ and now it’s just ‘Avery Hayes’?” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sis? You *like* hearing me call you that, don’t you? Hmm? My sweet sis?” Dylan suddenly closed the distance, blocking my path. He leaned in, meeting my gaze, a faint, almost predatory smile playing on his lips, his eyes holding a complex mix of emotions I couldn’t quite decipher. He’d grown taller, leaner. He was no longer the shy, introverted kid from five years ago. I stiffened, choosing to ignore his provocative question. “Is this why you asked me out today?” “Yeah.” “How did you know?” “Your boyfriend brought that woman to *our* hospital for a check-up, and I happened to be responsible for them. I overheard them talking about coming here to shop today.” “Oh.” I felt apathetic. I already knew Blake was cheating. More than once. Dylan seemed to grow angry. “Avery, he’s cheating on you! He’s not good to you!” “Yeah, yeah, I heard you.” I replied, feigning indifference. Dylan seemed to be thoroughly infuriated by my lack of concern, his chest heaving. He grabbed my arm, preventing me from leaving, his eyes blazing with anger as he glared at me. Thankfully, an urgent call from the hospital pulled him away. Otherwise, who knows how long we would have been stuck there. Before he left, Dylan gritted his teeth and asked, “You’d rather stick with *him* than ever give me a chance, wouldn’t you?” I stayed silent, offering no reply even as he walked away. Only when his back was to me did I finally let out a shaky breath. The truth was, I wasn’t nearly as composed as I tried to appear. Back home, a message from an unknown number made my stomach churn: “Avery, had to work late again today. Boohoo, missing you already!” It was Blake. A month ago, the first time I caught him cheating, I broke up with him. He refused. Since then, he’d been incessantly bothering me. Annoyed beyond belief, I’d blocked him on every platform. But he kept finding new numbers to harass me with. I went through my familiar routine: delete, then block, before tossing my phone aside. I felt restless today, a strange numbness in my chest, like everything was just… off. I knew the source of my turmoil wasn’t Blake. It was… Dylan. This reunion was completely unexpected. After I rejected him that year, Dylan and I hadn’t exchanged a single word. Even when I went home for the holidays, and our families, living across the hall from each other, inevitably crossed paths, he’d act as if I were invisible. Why did he suddenly bring me here to catch Blake in the act?
The next few days, I didn’t see Dylan again. Maybe he was too busy. Or maybe, he simply didn’t want to see me, just like for the past five years. I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, but there was nothing I could do. After all, I was the one who rejected him. Someone as proud as him wouldn’t want to be friends with the person who turned him down. I slipped back into my old routine, going to work, and blocking the occasional random number that popped up. After work one day, my mom called, her voice tinged with worry. “Avery, you and Blake… you guys broke up, right?” “Yeah, we did. Mom, who told you?” “Ugh, Blake’s aunt told me. Weren’t you two doing so well? His family wants me to talk to you, see if you’ll change your mind.” My mom hesitated. “Mom, just stay out of it. We broke up, and that’s final. We only met on a blind date anyway, there wasn’t much real feeling between us.” As I was speaking, I looked up and saw a familiar figure standing before me. Dylan, hands in his pockets, looked tired, like he’d just finished a shift, but his eyes sparkled with an undeniable amusement. He mouthed, “Dinner? My treat.” I casually told my mom I’d explain everything when I came home next, then hung up. Dylan didn’t wait for me to speak, pulling my hand and leading me into a taxi. After giving the driver an address, he just muttered, “Wake me when we’re there,” before leaning his head on my shoulder and closing his eyes to rest. I froze at the sudden physical contact, unsure how to react. I could only turn my head to stare out the window, praying he couldn’t hear my heart hammering like a drum. After a long moment, he chuckled. “Nervous, sis?” That single ‘sis’ snapped me back to the memory of him pinning me against the wall, his breath hot against my ear, those husky whispers. I cleared my throat, forcing out, “We’re here. Let’s get out.” Agitated and flustered, I just charged forward blindly, not caring if he was following me. Dylan suddenly grabbed my elbow, pulling me into his embrace. He still smelled the same – a faint, clean scent, like fresh linen with a hint of something woodsy. It hadn’t changed in all these years. It wasn’t until Dylan murmured, “Excuse me,” to someone beside us that I realized I’d almost bumped into them. He released me just as quickly, looking down to tell me to watch my step, then walked ahead. But before he did, his hand brushed lightly against the back of mine. I cursed silently and followed him. What exactly had this kid been learning all these years? He was so… alluring. “Your mom called me. She wanted me to convince you to get back together,” Dylan said, not even looking up as he served me food. His tone was not as light as before. “But your stance seemed pretty firm, and frankly, I wasn’t going to try anyway,” he continued, changing the subject. “So today, it’s just two long-lost neighbors having dinner.” Long-lost neighbors? Fine. I pushed down the strange feeling in my chest and finished dinner with Dylan, feigning casualness. After dinner, Dylan walked me back to my apartment. But as we arrived, we bumped into Blake Miller, drunkenly stumbling around outside my building. My gut told me something was wrong; Blake must have lost money gambling again. Yes, he gambled. I only found out after we broke up. His incessant bothering wasn’t because he liked me so much, but because my income was decent, and he wasn’t willing to give up a clear money tree.
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