I Know Who You Are

This is a Literotica 2022 Valentine's Day Story Contest story, so please vote.

***

I looked at the cute little townhouse from the curb as my dad and brother began unloading my moving truck. I shouldn't say little. It had 3 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. I guess what made it seem smaller was there was only one room on the main level other than the kitchen and small dining area. It was a big room though, so I'd call it a great room rather than a living room.

I had a nice wood burning fireplace, completely updated kitchen, and hardwood floors throughout the main level. My dad called it, "the perfect starter house," when I asked him to go on the walk-through with me before I signed the contract.

I was kinda scared. I never even lived in an apartment. I went from daddy's house to dorm, back to daddy's and now purchasing a home of my own. I never doubted my decision though.

I was always stubborn. I read all the articles about the new generation not buying houses until their thirties, if ever. I laughed that off. I was going to own my home. Sure, I had student loans. Who didn't? I was lucky enough though to find a job that paid well enough to handle them, and the mortgage bill, and leave some money left over to save a bit.

I got a job working for one of the big banks approving mortgages. The interviewer told me I was lucky in that they had only recently changed from wanting experience in the industry, to wanting college educations. In my mind experience was better, but who was I to tell her not to hire me. After saving every dime I could while living with my parents for a year, I started house hunting.

"Which bedroom do you want your desk in, pumpkin?" My dad shouted from the garage. I was thankful for him and my brother doing the heavy lifting. I couldn't get any of my jerk friends to help me move. It being January and in the low teens had something to do with it, I was sure.

"No, dad," I chirped and jogged to him, "I want the desk in the loft."

He smiled, "Okay. Facing the living room right?"

"Grr...it's a great room, daddy."

"Whatever you say, baby," he laughed, in that way that only a dad talking to his silly girl could.

I shook my head as he walked back into the house. I looked with jealousy at the neighbor to my right's house. He had an end unit with a wraparound porch. It was a way more expensive house but was also way cuter. I couldn't afford it though. So, no porch for me. I got a concrete landing that I shared with my other neighbor.

I did have a big patio out back. It had plenty of room for a grill and table. I had plenty of room to lay out and tan, which would save me a few bucks a month during the summer. I wasn't worried about pervy neighbors, as we had tall bushes that shot out perpendicularly from where our house and the neighbor's house met. It was a nice feature and one of the selling points for the subdivision.

As I was gazing at my neighbor's house, the garage door opened and an all-black Mercedes sedan with tinted windows pulled in. I was going to walk over and introduce myself, but the garage door closed before the person got out of the car. I felt that was rude considering I was obviously new and standing right on the driveway. If they wanted to be a jerk and not meet me, fine. I'd ignore them too. I only hoped my other neighbor was nicer.

"Hey, Teagan," my brother yelled from inside the house, "show us where you want the TV."

I smiled and did a twirl before jogging into my new house. Anyone watching would've thought I was crazy. I was simply giddy with being out on my own.

***

Later that night, I was moved in. I wasn't even close to being unpacked, but I was in. In what my dad and older brother, Scott, called a miracle, the furniture delivery was on time, and I had my great room set up, my bedroom intact, and my guest room set up. The guys from the home store even put together my grill. I didn't ask if they did that for everyone, or just the cute girls they delivered to, but I gave them an extra twenty bucks in their tip.

I wasn't looking forward to asking daddy to put that together for me. He always got cranky when he had to build stuff at home. Mom always had a beer ready for him whenever she asked him to put a bookshelf together for her.

I opened a bottle of Champagne and started a fire. I looked around my great room and sighed, "You're home, Teagan. All yours."

I took a drink and was about to put on some music when I heard a piano playing. It was coming from my rude neighbor's house, and I could hear it almost perfectly clear. I wondered why since we had firewalls in-between units that should have stamped out most of the sound.

I listened for a bit and liked what I heard, the person playing definitely had talent. I realized after a few moments that they were playing the same thing over and over. It was like the start of a song and a verse, but instead of going into the next part, it repeated. After a few minutes, it got annoying.

I wanted to scream, "learn the rest!" but I didn't. They may have had a little kid that was learning a new song and didn't want to hurt their feelings. I just put on some music and melted into my recliner.

***

"How did the move go?" My BFF Abby asked me as we were getting coffee the day after the move.

"Great," I said. "Everything is all set and all I have to do is unpack."

"Ooh, the fun part," she teased with a smile.

"Yeah. It's a good thing I took the week off to get settled."

She nodded. "So, did you introduce yourself to the neighbors yet?"

I shook my head no. "I had a chance to introduce myself to one of them yesterday, but they were a jerk and closed the garage door before I could walk over."

"I hate shitty neighbors," she frowned.

I saw her eyes look with interest at the counter behind me. I turned and saw what had to be the best-looking man I'd ever seen in person. He was older than my 23, judging by the slight gray highlights to his otherwise jet-black hair. He carried himself with confidence, dressed in expensive khakis and a golf shirt. The gold Rolex and Brunello Cucinelli loafers completed his well put together look.

"You're drooling," Abby teased.

"He's gorgeous," I said without tearing my eyes from him.

"That he is. I've seen him in here before. Always alone and always one coffee," Molly smirked.

"Do you know him," I asked.

"Nope. Just seen him in here. I figure he must live nearby."

"He looks familiar," I said as I looked him over. " I can't place it, but I'm sure I've seen him before."

"Maybe he works for your company?" She asked.

I shook my head, "It's gonna sound crazy, but I think it was on TV."

She laughed, "What would a TV star be doing in a Starbucks in Suburban Chicago?"

I shrugged my shoulders, and then the barista called out, "Smith."

I gasped, as he grabbed the coffee off of the counter and walked out the door.

"Smith Carlisle," I whispered.

"What?" Abby asked.

I grabbed my phone and googled it. There he was. Smith Carlisle. I handed the phone to Abby, and she gasped, "He's famous?"

"That's why I recognized him. He was on one of those TV talent shows as a guest judge a few years ago."

"Jesus, Teagan. This says he's written half of my favorite songs." She kept reading in awe. "Holy cow. It says here that he stopped writing songs a couple of years ago and basically fell of the face of the Earth."

"Does it say why?" I asked.

"It says he broke up with Lindsay Taylor and left Nashville."

"I hate that bitch," I said drooling with scorn. Abby laughed.

"Shut up. You know you love her first album," she teased. She was right, of course.

"Oh, wow! No wonder her last album sucked. He wrote all of her songs before they split," she said as she kept reading.

"Figures. She got famous off him and dumped him. Serves her right to fall on her face without him."

"No, Teagan. It says in this article that she said she's misses him and is lost without him. He must have dumped her."

I wondered what would make a man break up with a huge star like her.

***

A week went by and every day I heard the piece of song over and over again bleeding through my walls. It was driving me crazy. To get out of the house, I had knocked on my other neighbor's door the day before and introduced myself.

She was an older lady, very grandmotherly, and even had a little girl hanging on her leg when she opened the door.

"Hi, I'm Teagan. I just moved in next door."

"Hello, sweetie. I'm Mary. This is my granddaughter Sophia. I watch her while her mom and dad work."

"Hi, cutie," I said with a wave to the cute little girl. "How old are you?"

She stuck out two fingers and said, "Three."

Mary and I laughed, and she invited me in for some coffee.

Sophia sat in front of some kind of cartoon and Mary brought me a cup of delicious coffee.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Teagan. Have you met any of our other neighbors yet?"

I shook my head no and sipped the steaming beverage.

"Well, that's not surprising," she bemoaned. "The single guy on the end next to you doesn't talk to anyone. The kids living in the end unit next to me are a couple of young'uns that have no idea how to be neighborly. I'd like to meet their parents and give them a bit of an education in manners, but it's too late to help."

I laughed. "Yeah, the guy next to me saw I was moving in and didn't take a second to meet me."

She nodded. "Is he still playing the piano?"

I looked up in surprise. "He is. It's the same part of a song over and over again."

She smiled. "Mm, hm. The young couple that moved out used to complain about it all the time. It didn't drive them away, but they were sure glad to get away from it."

"I was going to knock on the wall and yell, but I thought it might be a little kid learning a song."

She laughed. "Nope. Just a single guy. Not that I'm nosy or anything, but he doesn't ever have company over. Something must have broken him because he's a fine-looking young man. If I were thirty years younger..."

We laughed and little Sophia turned asked, "What's funny, gramma?"

"Nothing, honey. Just adult talk," Mary said, which annoyed Sophia as much as that would have annoyed me when I was little. Every kid hates not being in on the joke.

I finished the coffee and said, "Well, it was lovely to meet you Mary and Sophia, but I've got to get going."

"Thanks for stopping by. You're welcome anytime and I'm always home," Mary said.

"Me too," Sophia added making us chuckle.

Later, I was making dinner when I heard the piano start up again. I turned the water off and put on my shoes. It was cold out, but I didn't put on a coat before marching over to my neighbor's house. I was going to ask him to stop playing the same thing over and over, and I'd see how it went from there.

I rang the doorbell, then knocked three times, angrily. I could hear the piano playing through the door. It stopped for a moment, then started right up again. I rang the bell again and banged on the door. The piano didn't stop at all that time. I was angry at the rudeness.

I tromped back into my garage and into my kitchen, where I grabbed a pen and paper and wrote, "Learn a different song!"

"That'll show him," I thought as I stomped past his garage and onto his gorgeous porch. I put the note in his mailbox and growled as the piano played on.

***

"It's February 1st," Abby said when I answered the phone. I sighed remembering our pact. I had just walked in the door after a bad day, only made worse when I forgot to stop at the store on the way home.

Every year that neither of us had a boyfriend on February 1st, we gave ourselves one week to get a

Valentine's Day date, or we'd watch sappy rom-com's together and complain about men.

"Yeah, so I assume no date for you yet?"

"Nope," she answered.

"Okay, then we have a week," I sighed. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you over here on V-day though."

She moaned, "Probably. I gotta run. Talk to you soon."

I opened the fridge, but I knew I didn't have anything to make. I had a reason for needing to go to the store. I looked at my mail on the counter and decided to look for coupons before I headed out.

To my surprise, there was a handwritten note and I got pissed when I read it. It said, "I know plenty of songs."

It wasn't signed, but it was obvious who left it. What a jerk!

I pulled out of my garage and saw the jerk's garage door open as I was leaving. I was going to stop and yell at him, but I figured he would just ignore me as usual. I let it go.

When I pulled up at the stoplight at the end of my subdivision, I saw his evil-looking car pull up behind me. I couldn't make out his face in the darkness, but I was startled when he honked at me as I was staring at him in the rearview mirror. I realized the light had turned green, so I made my way forward.

It wasn't fast enough for him as he pulled around and sped past me in the middle of my turn. "What a jerk!" I thought again as I watched him speed away into the distance.

***

I was standing in line waiting to order my meat when I heard a voice from next to me, "Looks like we have the same taste in cheap wine."

I turned and saw Smith Carlisle standing beside me. I stuttered when I gazed into his eyes and looked at his cart when he nodded his eyes towards his wine. He had the same Woodbridge Cabernet I liked.

"Um, I..."

He frowned. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bug you." He turned and walked over to get a number as mine was called, and I walked to the counter. He must've thought I was embarrassed by his cheap wine comment.

I glanced at him as he was talking to the other butcher while I waited for my order to be wrapped up. "Here you go, ma'am. Anything else?" my butcher asked.

"No, thank you," I said as I grabbed my packages. I turned and saw that Smith was gone. I was annoyed with myself. What a great chance I had blown to meet a gorgeous man, let alone a talented songwriter. I briefly wished my neighbor was as talented, so he could stop playing the same thing over and over.

I went to put the meat in my cart when I saw it was not my cart. Smith must have taken mine by mistake. I looked around and said, "Shit!" I had a full cart of groceries and had to find him, or I'd be stuck getting them all over again.

I looked at his cart and it was full, but it was mostly healthy foods including fruit and vegetables as opposed to my cart, which was full of pasta, frozen dinners, and junk food.

I hurried to the front of the store hoping to catch him by the registers, but I looked around and saw no sign of him. I decided to wait there, knowing he had to come that way eventually. If I were thinking clearly, I'd have just waited by the meat department from where he took my cart.

After a few minutes, a cart pulled up next to mine and I heard, "I think this belongs to you, even though it looks like a twelve-year-old picked out the food."

He was melting my soul with a wide million-watt smile.

"Yeah, um, sorry," I croaked.

He laughed, "What are you sorry for? I upset you with a stupid comment and then ran off with your cart by mistake. Forgive me for both?"

I nodded.

"Good," he said. "Well, it's been a slice. I'll see you around."

I froze, I couldn't answer him. All I could think was I was blowing it again. Then he stopped and walked back.

"You know, I'm sorry about the twelve-year-old crack too. I'm in kind of a bad mood today. Please don't hold it against me."

I nodded, he smiled and walked away.

I couldn't believe I met him twice and said all of one complete sentence. I watched him as he checked out three lanes over. He looked so confident, so sexy, as he talked to the check out guy. Then his countenance changed as he walked away out of the store. His posture slumped and his face wore a look of sadness. It was as if he was putting on a false front when he talked to people.

Later that night, I pulled my chicken out of the oven, and when I put it on the plate I saw the note on my counter. I got angry again and then I heard it. He started playing, but it wasn't the same song. He was playing loudly as if he were banging on the keys. It was some fast Classical sounding thing and I assumed he was showing off to me and then he broke into something familiar. I listened and realized it was an old Alanis Morrissette song, "You Oughta Know." I felt the anger in his playing.

I sighed at his obvious issues and began to eat my dinner. The music suddenly stopped and then he started playing the same old thing again. I growled and shouted, "Grow up!"

***

I stopped at the coffee shop the next morning and ordered my usual large Mocha Latte. While I was waiting, I heard his voice. "I keep bumping into you."

I turned and he was there smiling. I lit up in a smile, determined to not blow it again, and said, "Yeah, hi. I'm Teagan."

He offered his hand, "Smith. Nice to officially meet you, Teagan."

I pulled out my card, wrote my cell number on the back and handed it to him.

"What's this?" he asked, which made me think he was stupid.

"My phone number, dummy."

He looked at it as if it were on fire. "I, um, I don't really date, Teagan."

He looked like a lost puppy. I smirked and said, "Who asked you on a date? I just gave you my number. You do talk to people don't you?"

His false front fell, and I saw the hurt in his eyes. "Not really, no."

My name was called for my order pick up. I turned to grab it and when I turned back he was gone.

"Smith," the barista called. "Smith?" Nothing. She called again, "Smith?"

I looked around and he wasn't there. I guessed I scared him off. I realized he must still hurting from whatever that bitch Lindsay Taylor did to him. I only hoped he'd call, and then I realized how silly I was being.

I passed a music store everyday on the way to and from work. On my way home that night, I decided to mess with my jerk neighbor a bit more, so I stopped in there and was looking through the songbooks when I saw my favorite Lindsay Taylor album's songbook. "Maybe he'll learn some good happy love songs to play," I thought. I also thought about the songs being written by Smith and hoped buying that book benefitted him in some small way.

***

I shoved the thin book through his mail slot and walked into my garage. The garage door barely closed before there was a banging on my door. I took a deep breath and looked out the peep hole. He was turned and faced the street so all I could see was his back. I couldn't see his face, but I didn't see a shotgun or a baseball bat, so I figured I wasn't about to be killed. I decided to open the door and take my medicine. If nothing else, I could beg him to stop playing that song.

I swung the door open and as soon as he realized it he spun and shouted, "I told you, I know a million songs..."

I screamed and slammed the door shut. It was Smith sweet baby Jesus Carlisle. I leaned back against the door and wanted to cry. Then there was a softer knock, and I heard, "Teagan, I'm sorry."

I looked through the peephole and he looked miserable. His eyes were puffy as if he was fighting back tears. I sighed and opened the door.

"I'm sorry Teagan. I have no excuse, I just..."

"Come on in," I said and turned leaving him on my doorstep.

I walked into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of the wine I bought and poured two glasses.

I heard my door close and footsteps in the great room. I walked around my kitchen wall and silently extended the glass of wine towards him.

I said, "I figure there's a story here somewhere and you might need this."

He smiled, but it wasn't the mega-watt smile I loved. It was sad. He also had the depressed posture on, rather than the confident one.