Falling For The Girl Pt. 01

Joel thought he'd be able to outrun the storm but the churning rumble of thunder already told him he was too late. He walked up the subway station steps with just enough time to see the remnants of white clouds bruise, and meld with the storm clouds above. Slight pinpricks of rain turned into heavy droplets above. He supposed it could be worse. He'd gone to work in a plaid shirt, vest, and jeans because the day had started out too hot. Luckily, he only lived about ten minutes away from station, but at this rate, he was already soaked anyway.

He strolled past the same stores as always; North Laundromat, Teriyaki King Chinese, and a small Albanian restaurant he couldn't pronounce the name of. It always had a guy sat out on a cheap, white lawn chair smoking a rollup cigarette by the front door. When you made it past him, the Buck Court apartment building would come into view down the way. It was a two-story block with faded white walls, and shit-brown colored window frames. Appearances had fooled him. While it looked decrepit on the outside, it was cleaner on the inside.

Up ahead, the sky had finally bled out; the white clouds were finally engulfed as made it to the sidewalk outside the apartments. The rain was almost diagonal now against the rising wind, joined by the chaotic choir of thunder and lightning. There came another camera-like flash then everything turned dreary grey once more. He wiped the rain from his eyes and stopped when he saw her; his neighbor, Keya. She was stood underneath the faded, red-roof bus-stop. He realized that something wasn't right when he stepped closer.

He'd never spoken to her before; nothing beyond a passing "Hey" or "Good morning" while they crossed paths in the hallway. While the deafening wind, and thunder blocked out most noise, he could still hear her hyperventilating loud enough. When the clouds boomed again, she flinched, and looked up at the sky as if it was all about to come tumbling down to crush her.

"Keya?" he asked as he stepped underneath the cover of the bus-stop.

Her eyes were clamped shut and she was mumbling to herself. He reached out and touched her shoulder; making her spin to face him with wide eyes filled with fear. Tears trickled down her cheeks as another streak of lightning illuminated everything. Her ebony skin was glistening with sweat. Her hair, which was normally free-flowing knotless braids, was a jumbled messy bun with loose strands. Her tan overcoat was soaked, as were her skinny jeans. Her hands had lost some of their color from her vice-grip on the bus-stop seat. When she looked at him, he caught his breath in his throat. Her bright, turquoise eyes burned through him. It took him back for a moment until she blinked at him.

"Keya, are you good?"

"Can't--" She squeaked out the words and then flinched. "Can't breathe."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't--the thunder--"

The sky roared again, and her hand shot to his arm, her nails, polished black and long, dug deep into the flesh of his forearm. He didn't flinch. For the moment, he was too focused on making sure she was okay, still lost in those eyes.

"I can't breathe--I'm scared."

"Have you taken something--smoked something?"

"No," she said and shook her head. "I have a ph--phobia." She swallowed hard. "It's dumb."

"Oh," he said. "I thought you were on meth or somethin'."

"I don't--"Another thunderous clap echoed; the ground beneath them vibrated with bombastic rises as Keya covered her head with her hands. "I tried to run back to the apartment but I didn't make it. I know it sounds stupid. Don't laugh at me," she said, her voice muffled.

He found himself smiling and shook his head. "Do you want me to walk you back to the apartment?"

"What if the lightning strikes me?"

"You're like four foot something--I'm six. If anybody has more of a chance of getting hit, it'll be me. But there's no way we're goin' to be hit, alright? Let's go."

"No," she said as she began to hyperventilate. "I'm too scared."

"Take my hand, and we'll run to the door. We'll wait until the lightning goes off so there's less of a chance we're hit, okay?

"I'm--I'm--"

He took her hand, and she looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Trust me."

She nodded. It was like trying to coax a child with an attitude when they didn't get their way. He couldn't help but find it somewhat endearing, and a little cute that she was terrified of thunderstorms. When he grew up, he was scared of the dark, but these were things you grew out of eventually. He tugged at her hand but she wouldn't let go of the plastic chair.

"Keya--I promise you. You'll be fine. Let go and we'll run, okay? I promise you."

"Okay," she said. "Okay."

"Alright. Ready? We'll wait for next one and then you run with me, alright?"

"What if--"

"No what-if. Ready?"

The sky lit up pure white. He pulled her hand and she let go of the chair. They were running full speed towards the lobby door. The rumble of thunder was further away now. Keya picked up speed. Her fingers gripped his hand tightly and he couldn't help but laugh as she screamed, and said "Oh God, oh God, Oh God." He yanked open the lobby door. Keya's hand slid from his as she ran in, stumbled to a stop, and caught herself by the mailboxes while she sucked in deep breaths of relief. Joel wiped the wetness off his head and felt his heart racing. He was definitely going to have a cold. She kept her eyes closed. He watched as her chest rose; water trickled down her neck.

"You okay?"

She raised her hand, and gave him a shakey thumb. "I'm good. Thanks."

"That was one Hell of a panic attack."

"Astraphobia," she sighed. "Fear of thunderstorms."

"Oh I got one like that," he said as he caught his breath. "Scared of the ocean."

"Thalassophobia?"

"I have no idea," he said with a shrug. "Anyway. You're not struck by lightning so I'm gonna just--" he moved towards the stairway that led to the second floor.

"Hey--uh--what's your name?"

"Joel. I live next door to you."

"I know."

The thunder had almost diminished completely, but another distant roar made her jump again. She looked up at the ceiling of the lobby. He smiled as he put his first step onto the stairs.

"I'll see you around, Keya."

"Thanks," she said as she leant back on the wall and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry I got you soaked."

"It's okay."

It was the first time he'd ever had any interaction with a neighbor, and talking down some pretty girl in a thunderstorm wasn't the first thing he'd imagine he'd be doing. It wasn't so bad, he thought. She had warmed up to him from then on. Whenever he'd catch her in the hallway, or checking mail she'd smile at him, or ask him how his day was. He just liked the excuse to look at her. He'd caught her in the lobby one late Friday afternoon on his way back from work. She was wearing a pretty blue sundress; her hair tied up in a big bun. Her earrings were silver pearls, and for a moment he felt a twinge between his legs. He was wearing jeans, but sometimes they weren't any good at concealing.

"Oh, hey."

"Hey," she said as she examined a letter. "Somebody came by to see you earlier."

"For me? Who was it?"

"I don't know. Some girl," she said with a shrug.

"Specify," he put a hand on her shoulder. His heart suddenly pumping twice as fast. "Brown hair or red hair?" Please, not red.

"Definitely red. I told her you'd be back later."

He gripped her other shoulder and spun her. "What time did you tell her to come back?"

She shot him a smile. "What time is it now?"

"Oh God, no," he said as he let get of her, and began to pace. He puts his fingers to his temples. How did she find him again?

"What did I do?"

"This woman--Janet Barley," he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's batshit insane. I don't even know how she found me. She's been stalking me for the better part of a year."

"Old girlfriend?"

"No, we had a fli--" he waved his hands and then sagged his shoulders. "Not important. I need to hide."

"She can't be that bad."

"She sent me a necklace with a vial of her period blood in it."

"Relax--I'm sure it'll be okay. Come hide in my apartment if it's that big a deal," said Keya as she brushed past him.

He put his hands on her shoulders, and followed her up the steps. For a moment he was sure Janet would be behind him, and he'd feel her grip his leg. Every noise threw new, terrifying scenarios into his mind. Keya led him into her apartment. He slammed the door shut, and then glued himself to the peephole. "I can't believe you told her I'd be back," he hissed.

"I thought she was some girl you were dating--I was a little disappointed."

"Huh?" He hadn't heard her properly.

She shook her head. "Nevermind. So what happened?" she asked.

She poured herself a glass of orange juice, and offered Joel the carton. He waved it away, refusing to take his eyes off the peephole. "Did you date her?"

"We had a fling two years ago, and she actually backed off since I was with my last girl. But every time she hears I'm single, she just finds me. She's obsessed. I think she speaks to my family and they fill her in. Or maybe she's just lucky."

Keya stifled a snort.

"It ain't funny."

He spotted movement on the other side of the door. He dipped down, then realized peepholes weren't two-way. It was definitely Janet. The red hair had never changed since he'd told her he liked it all that time ago.

"I thought she was pretty," said Keya with a shrug. "Didn't know she was crazy though."

"She sent me a heart once," he said as he cupped his hand, and flexed them to the beat of a heart. "Like a heart out of something."

"A human heart?" asked Keya; her face scrunched up in disgust.

"No not a human heart. I think it was a cat's heart maybe. She worked as a veterinarian secretary and well, obviously she had a few to spare." He kept watching her.

She knocked on his door and waited around ten minutes, pacing back and forth just out of sight. He kept an eye on the hole for half an hour, until he was certain she was gone. "Psst."

Keya, who was typing away on her phone, looked at him. "What is it?"

"Head out like you're going to check the mail," he whispered. "Just double check for me."

"You big baby," she said with a sigh as she pushed him aside and walked out into the hallway.

When she came back in, she was holding something in her hand. She handed it to him.

"Oh, not another letter," he said, his voice cracked. "She always leaves these."

"I'll read it." Keya reached out for it, but Joel pulled it close to his chest.

"My my, aren't we curious?"

"Let me read it," she said in a demanding huff. "I can be pretty scary if I don't get my way."

"Consider my timbers shivered then," he said as he handed her the letter.

She took it with a smile, and then held it up to her nose. He had already smelled the faint strawberry perfume she had laced the letter with. Keya looked at him as she took in the smell.

"She always sprays the letters with this perfume I bought her. I figured she'd have ran out by now."

He wondered what her thought process was; that somehow reminding him of that familiar perfume would take him back, and he'd go running into her arms. The truth of it was that he'd become so sick of the smell, that now he couldn't even enjoy real strawberries. And he liked real strawberries. Keya slid the letter out, and held it up. She cleared her throat, as if to declare something great, and began.

"You're free once again. My heart has burned for you, yearned for you behind closed doors. Through other lovers I have learnt that none are as passionate as you, as loving, as tender--"

"I changed my mind," he said as he reached out. "Please. Don't put me through this." She was took quick for him, and as she circled the island, she sprinted through the rest of the letter. "I miss you, I miss the size of you. You are the kindest man I know. Nobody has set my womb alight with the heat of a thousand suns. I am cold. You are the fire of my heart. Compassion, thy name is Joel."

"Alright," he said as he snatched the letter, it crumpled in his grasp.

"Womb is alight with the heat of a thousand suns, huh?"

He sighed, defeated. "I think she has gonorrhoea. Anyway, it's all bullshit."

"I think she was right about the kind and compassionate part. Jury's out on the size part."

"She's lying. I'm tiny--It doesn't matter."

He saw her eyes glide down to his legs, and he turned them away from her. "Quit it."

"Can I see?" Her eyes lit up.

"Wha--no you can't see."

She moved towards him. When she was inches away, he could smell her perfume; something smokey and nothing like strawberries. Her half-lidded eyes looked up at him; pleading. Her fingers trailed down, and slid across his stomach, down to between his legs. He tensed up. "Come on, we're adults here," she whispered. He realized he was holding his breath.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "I uh--I'm going to go. I'll see you." He reached for the door handle, and slipped out into the hallway.

He knew he' screwed up a possible opportunity to fuck her brains out but he was scared. He knew Keya had taken the rejection badly when he saw her in the hallway on the way to work, and coming home. Both times she'd waved him off, barely even throwing him any looks' no warming smile or kind words. He could only blame himself, really. People didn't like rejection--but it wasn't entirely that of why he was scared. Keya was gorgeous, there wasn't any doubt there, and he'd found himself thinking of what she tasted like more than once in the privacy of his own head. It terrified him to do something with her, and then he'd have another Janet on his hands. He liked his new apartment, and didn't want to have to move if something went wrong.

It was early Saturday when he had decided that he didn't want to keep living like a squatter, and eating out of tins. He'd ordered some furniture online; a swanky three-piece couch, coffee table, and new TV, and then headed down to the J-Mart, a grocery store just off from Teriyaki Kings Chinese. While he was looking at a stack of tins, something caught his eye. Keya was stood on the other side of the window. She looked all dressed up for a night out on the town. She wore a pretty, bright yellow sundress; laced heels, and was carrying a clutch bag. Her braids had been tied up into a clean bun. The urge to go out and say hello was almost overpowering, but he maintained enough control to stop himself. She'd probably just shrug him off again.

Instead, he bought himself a pack of beer, and drank alone in his bedroom watching eighties movies. Chinese takeout sounded like a good idea, and so he threw on some sweatpants. Voices sounded off in the hallway, muffled, but loud enough he could tell they were arguing. He put his ear to the door. One of the voices was definitely Keya.

"I'd just leave in a heartbeat--you have to tell me that, Key. I'll call her tonight and tell her. I can't go back, not after you. You've--you've--I love you."

"Rick, you've walked me home. I didn't ask you too. I don't need this. Let go of me."

"Please. I can't stop thinking about that night."

"You're hurting me," he heard her say. "Let go."

Joel opened the door and made a show of rattling his keys. When he stepped out, he saw that Keya's door was open, and she was stood at the threshold. Her arms both bound by the pudgy sausage fingers of the guy before her. He looked at Joel, Joel looked at him. He was a short guy, with greasy slicked back hair, and a stocky build. His hands slid away from Keya's wrists and he tried to compose himself. Joel could see Keya's face; her cheeks stained with tears. She looked away from him, but he'd already noticed there was a mark on the left side of her cheek.

"All good?" Joel asked her.

The man spoke. "We're fin--"

"I was asking her," snapped Joel. "Not you, man. You alright?"

"Go home, Rick," she said as she crossed her arms.

She went to close the door. Rick's face had turned a darker shade of red, and he lunged forward, tumbling into the apartment. Joel ran to the doorway, to see him pulling at her. She let out a scream, and as his gripped slipped. She fell backwards; the sound of her shoe's heel was a muffled crack. "You're not gonna treat me like thi--" His last words were choked off as Joel's arm slid around his neck. His other arm slid up Rick's left side, his shoulder locked. Keya looked up at him with wide eyes; her mouth hung agape as Rick grunted, gasping for air. Joel pulled him backwards, out of the apartment, and aimed him down the hallway. With a shove, Rick stumbled forward and went crashing down onto the carpet with a thud.

Keya stumbled to the doorway. Rick got back to his feet, and the left side of his forehead shined pink from the carpet burn. He touched it, and winced as Joel took a step to the side, putting himself between him and Keya.

"You're fuckin' dead," he spat at Joel before he stumbled away, nursing his wound.

When Joel heard the slam of the lobby door, he let out a sigh.

"What was that about?"

Keya looked at him. He couldn't help himself as he gently touched her chin, and turned her head to the left. The mark wasn't severe, but he could see there was definitely some bruising.

"Did he do that?"

"It's fine, Joel."

"Jesus," he said and felt the laughter rushing to escape him. "Wow."

"What?"

"You sure can pick them."

"Oh, yeah? How's Janet? She sent you any rabbit hearts lately?"

"She wasn't using my face as a punchbag at least."

He saw the fury on her face, twisting and melding as the tears that twinkled finally spilled over. She went to slam the door but Joel put his hand out and caught it.

"Hey, relax."

"Go away," she yelled. "Leave me alone. I don't need you making fun of me--I'm tired of it. So just go away," her words had begun to crack; the tears came flooding as she stood in front of him and broke apart. She took in little gasps of air between the sobs. He wasn't sure what was exactly happening but he kept his arms around her, cocooning her silently, and letting her ride it out.

"Hey, hey--it's okay. I was only kiddin'," he said as he reached out. Her arms slid around him, and she continued to sob, buckling under the hurt of something he wasn't sure he understood. He could feel the wetness of her on his T-shirt. Her fingers clung to him, reminding him of her vice grip on the bus-stop seat. She stayed like that until finally the brunt of it had come out, and then she pulled away and looked up into his eyes.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded at him. He went to open his mouth again; her fingers gripped at his neck, and pulled him down. Her mouth softly touched against his lips--a soft gasp echoed between them, and then he couldn't stop himself. He slid his arms down, and felt the softness of her thighs as he picked her up. Her legs wrapped around him tightly, and she kissed him harder. She shared the sweet aftertaste of her last drink, stained on her tongue. He carried he through to her bedroom, where she hit the lightswitch quickly before he threw her onto the bed. She let out a laugh as he reached for the edges of the yellow dress, and went to pull them up.

"No," she said as she pulled it down. "Let me."

"I--"

Her finger went to his lips to silence him. "Lay down at the end."

He followed her order. He went between his legs, dragging her tongue against the thick bulge underneath his sweats. He felt the strength of it pushing, wrestling against the hardness of his own cock. He felt the elastic of his sweatpants slide down his skin, and the cool air on his cock that was already fully hard. She blinked at it, appraising it from the bottom as it towered over her face. Her fingers gripped it with perfect pressure.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Uh--"