The Neighbor Next Door - Cassandra Dee Page 0,3

with a pang I realize I’m not comfortable putting my face, or body, for that matter, out there for the masses to see. Putting pictures up on social media is one thing, but on a dating app? A shiver runs down my spine. Instead, I focus on the next part: my interests. Hmm, that’s easy: cooking, baking, and trying out new foods. And then comes the part that’s actually interesting: what I’m looking for in a man.

For kicks, I type into the box exactly what I want, as crudely as I can. “A big strong guy with a big thick cock who knows what to do with it. I want it to really hurt when I finally lose my virginity.” I giggle to myself again as I hurriedly hold down the delete key, feeling my face burn up. Instead, I write: “Curvy brunette virgin seeks strong guy to show her the ways of passion.” But rolling my eyes, I delete that too. I don’t want anyone to know I’m a virgin. Nor how corny I can be. So I try again, and keep it to: “Curvy, shy brunette seeking strong man to show her ways of love and pleasure.” That’s better. Classy, right?

Having created my profile, I decide to start browsing the data base for guys, my heart pounding in excitement. In the filter drop-down box, I select “tall,” “muscular,” “tattoos,” “dark hair,” and when the results come up, I realize I’ve been describing Trent. But none of the results of the search have come up with guys even close to the magnificence that is my next door neighbor. I close my eyes and imagine his muscular body on mine, the way my tits would crush against his chest as he entered me, his eyes looking into my soul. I wonder what color his eyes are?

Suddenly, I’m interrupted.

“JANIE!” Vivian shrieks from downstairs, giving me a near heart attack.

“What?” I call back, annoyed at having been sucked out of my reverie about Trent.

“Your cookies are burning!” she calls back.

And rolling my eyes, I press “submit” before closing my laptop and rushing downstairs. Because it’s not like anything’s going to happen. I didn’t even upload my picture, and guys are visual. They need to see the goods before buying. So with a sigh, I rush downstairs, figuring that that’s the end of ChatWorld … at least for now.

3

Janie

I just about manage to save my cookies from their charred fate.

“It’s not like you to burn stuff, Janie,” manages Vivian through pursed lips as she applies lipstick, staring in her pocket mirror. “What were you doing up there?”

I dig the spatula under each cookie, piling them into a large, colorful cookie jar.

“I was browsing through men on a dating website,” is my sarcastic reply, even if it’s the truth.

“Don’t be salty with me, young lady,” Vivian raises her eyebrow while scrutinizing her perfectly done make-up. “What were you really doing?”

I sigh. What’s the point of all this? Instead, I go with the unobjectionable answer.

“Homework,” is my mumble.

My mom perks up.

“Well, Chris will be here soon,” replies Vivian. Of course, sometimes I feel like what I say doesn’t matter at all because she’s not listening.

“Chris? Why?” I ask, astonished. Chris is Vivian’s third husband. Or ex-husband, I should say. They got divorced a few months ago and I hadn’t seen him since. Not that I minded, since he was a lech of the worst sort.

“None of your business!” says Vivian with a smirk. “Some of us have love lives, you know.” I bite my lip because my mom’s love life is out of control. She’s only in her thirties, and yet she’s been married and divorced three times. There has to be some sort of Olympic record for this, right?

But I just keep my composure.

“Never mind,” I mumble. “I’ll be upstairs doing homework,” I say before turning on my heel, taking the cookie jar upstairs with me.

“Don’t eat all of those, Janie!” Vivian calls warningly after me. “We have to keep ourselves attractive for the opposite sex!”

But snacking on my own baked goods while I read my romance novels is my favorite thing to do on a Friday night. I’m vaguely aware of how sad my peers would find this if they knew. But those straight A’s don’t get themselves: I study really hard all week, and mostly during the weekends as well. Friday nights are my own - where I get to put on my fairy lights, indulge in something new I’ve baked, curl