The Soldier Next Door: A Forbidden Romance Page 2

  I take a break from pruning flowers and just sit back on my heels for a second. In the middle of my garden, I start thinking about my last tour. A grimace comes over my face, and I look down, breathing hard. It was difficult because I lost my best friend, Tony. Tony graduated from the same military high school I did, but we didn’t know each other until we were both sent to the same location on our very first deployment. Since then, we’ve managed to be together for most of our deployments.

  When we were back in the States, we normally found a small flat or apartment in a busy city and just lived life. Neither one of us dated anyone seriously and someone always had a sock on the door. We drank a lot, cried together, and shared some of our most profound memories. Civvies will never get it; only a buddy who’s been there can.

  Our bond was strong, and when my parents died, Tony was the person by my side at both of their funerals. I couldn’t imagine doing life without him, yet here I am. Damn him.

  After he died and I returned to the States, I wanted to live a different life. It’s partly Tony’s fault. We used to talk about how we’d settle down one day with a luscious woman and pump out a couple rug rats. We always laughed at the idea, but over the years, our tones grew serious. We wanted a family, and a woman to greet us at the end of every deployment. We want children, although now, Tony will never have his.

  Fuck. I have to slow down at some point. I have to put my friend out of my mind. As a result, after packing my shit, I randomly chose a city on a map and moved. There happen to be an affordable house on the market in Remford, so I bought it.

  Suddenly, a loud voice interrupts my train of thought.

  “Hi neighbor, how are you adjusting to everything?” I stand and turn around, looking at the gate that separates the back from the front of the house. A large-bellied man is standing there, waving happily at me. His face is red and he’s sweating profusely.

  I wave back. “I’m doing well, thanks. The neighborhood is really nice.”

  He beams, looking a bit like Santa Claus.

  “I’m Joe Matthias, I live around the corner. What’s your name?” he asks.

  I wipe my hands on my shirt and stick it back into the waistline of my pants before walking to greet him.

  “Brady Firestone. Nice to meet you.”

  He shakes my hand firmly and continues beaming at me.

  “Everyone been treating you good? This here is a real friendly neighborhood.”

  I nod.

  “Oh absolutely. Everyone is great, and I like that the neighborhood is quiet. It’s all very…normal.”

  He chortles happily.

  “New to normal, eh? Military man, right? I recognize a couple of the tattoos you got there. Got a couple of those myself,” he says, pulling back his sleeve to show me a tattoo of a dog tag on his inner arm.

  I have the same one on the left side of my chest. I glance down at mine and read the small inscription. Antonio Garcia, written in cursive, followed by the dates of his birth and death. I nod and give Joe an unexpressive smile.

  “Something like that. So have you lived here long?” I ask, changing the subject.

  He tilts his head back and forth. “About twenty years. My wife and I bought that house over there when we first got married. She passed about four years ago, so it’s just me now.”

  I look down at the ground and knit my eyebrows together sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that, Joe.”

  He smiles, although it’s a bit sad now.

  “My wife was a fighter and she fought all the way until the end. But she told me her dying wish was for me to be happy and lose weight so I could live a long life for our kids. I’m working on keeping both those promises to her.”

  I smile at his words. How I yearn to have that kind of connection or love with someone. Sometimes when I’m on tours, I think: who will care if I die? I don’t have any close family to speak of, and the only person I considered true family was Tony. Now that he is gone, I have jack shit.

  Caught up in my own emotions, I suddenly just want to be alone.

  “Well, nice to meet you, Joe. I really should get back to what I was doing.”

  He smiles brightly.

  “Oh right, right, I was just checking on you. If you need anything, I’m down the street. Also, if you haven’t met these folks right here, they’re good people,” he says nodding towards the white house next door. It’s a cute cottage with yellow shutters and colorful begonias planted in the yard.

  “I have met them actually. Jackie and Jim Monroe, right?” I ask.

  Joe nods in agreement.

  “Yep, real nice and kind people. They’ve lived here since the neighborhood was first built. Susie was one of the first neighborhood kids actually.”

  “Susie? Oh, that’s their daughter right? I remember them mentioning something about her.”

  Joe looks off into the distance, seemingly thinking about something. His slightly bites into his bottom lip, and then he shakes his head.

  “Yeah, that Susie is really something. Have you met her yet?”

  I tilt my head at him, confused at what he means by that.

  “Um, no I haven’t,” I say shaking my head. “I happened to catch her parents when I was coming home one day, but Susie was still at school I think? She goes to Remford High, right? I can’t remember because it was so long ago.”

  He chuckles slightly and shakes his head. “Yep, it’s called Remford High. If I remember correctly, I think she’s done or ought to be close to graduation. Like a year left or something like that. Well anyways, when you meet her, you’ll be easily charmed. Very nice girl…yep…very nice indeed,” he murmurs as he stares off into space again.

  I stand there awkwardly for a second, stumped. Why is Joe stammering and looking so confused? Is it something about the high school girl next door?

  But then Joe snaps out of his trance and his jolly smile returns to his face. “I’ll get out of your hair. I see you’re busy. Just holler if you need anything. I’ll see you around.” He waves again and waddles back down the driveway to the sidewalk. He is wearing tight blue shorts and a white t-shirt. Bright yellow ankle weights wrap tightly around his thick ankles. I assume he stopped to talk during his late afternoon walk.

  I shake off that weird conversation and return back to my bushes. I hope I didn’t come off as rude, but I hate talking about the military. It’s a stressful part of my life and my life here is the opposite of that. I hope he didn’t notice that I changed the subject quickly once he brought up the armed services.

  Then again, my military buddies would never believe that Brady “Tap That” Firestone gardens and lives in a neighborhood where fat old men go on walks with ankle weights. I chuckle at the thought of telling my friends how I live now and their reaction.

  I got the nickname “Tap That” because when we used to bet on who could get a girl in bed first, I always won. Looking back, I don’t feel great about it. In fact, it’s pretty disgusting and immature. But at the time, I got as much ass as possible. But it obviously came to nothing because now, I’ve never felt more alone.

  The sound of a slamming door snaps me out of my trance. Still kneeling, I glance over the white picket fence at the Monroe family’s large deck out back. A girl comes walking towards the side of the deck that faces my house. She hesitates for a moment and stares idly into the distance. What is she looking at? Her large breasts bounce eagerly in her tiny tank top, threatening to overflow. Her long brown hair flows behind her in the soft wind.

  Is this Susie? Suddenly, my weird conversation with Joe makes so much more sense. Her dark smoldering eyes compliment pink, bee-stung lips. I find myself staring, mouth slightly open, taking in her beauty. Never have I seen a woman so stunning in my life.

  I swallow and blink, shaking my head. What am I doing? This girl is still in high school. I’ve met her parents, who aren’t too much older than me. Yet, despite the taboo aspect, I can’t stop staring at their young daughter’s beautiful face and voluptuo
us breasts.

  Suddenly, her eyes swing my way. I feel like a creep for staring, and blush. Imagine that. “Tap That” Firestone blushing over a woman. She smiles merrily, as if reading my thoughts, and waves. I sheepishly wave back, and then, she begins heading my way. Oh shit, oh shit. She has a watering can in her hand, and I can see she’s headed towards the flowers that are on her side of the fence.

  I stand quickly and compose myself. As she bounds down the stairs, her breast bouncing freely, I feel myself start to harden. Taking a few subtle, deep breaths, I start trying to release the tension I feel building up in my manhood.

  As she makes her way to me, I can’t help but trace her curvy figure with my eyes. Her small, pale waist is slightly exposed by her flimsy tank top. Her curvy hips dance back and forth as she daintily trips her way through the grass over to me.

  The closer she gets to me, the better I can make out all the delicate features of her face. Her brown eyes suck me in and her pale, milky skin is illuminated by the sun. On her way over, she accidently drops the watering can and turns around to pick it up.

  Slowly bending over, she puts her luscious ass on display just for me. At least, I feel like it’s just for me. I can’t tear my eyes away from the plump cheeks that peek out at me from the bottom of her little shorts, the globes firm and luscious. She picks up the can and turns back around with the cutest little face. Giggling she walks up to me. Nothing separates us but our picket fence and the flower beds.

  “I can be so clumsy sometimes,” she laughs. “Hi Neighbor. I’m Susie.”

  My heart hammers in my chest, and suddenly, I know I’m done for.

  3

  Susie

  * * *

  Hook, line, and sinker. I know right off the bat that my plan has worked. My sexy neighbor can’t stop looking at my luscious breasts or my curvy figure. He’s even more gorgeous up close. His eyes are blue, and he’s got a slight shadow around his chiseled jaw. His jet-black hair has a few strands of silver, although it only makes him look more mature and commanding. He seems utterly massive up close, towering over me with his muscular physique. I almost forget my plan, in fact, because he’s just so mouth-watering.

  But then he speaks, and that deep voice has in me in thrall.

  “I’m Brady. Nice to meet you.”

  I stick my hand out across the space between our two yards. He takes it, and avoiding eye contact, shakes it. There’s a slight pause before we both try to speak at the same time.

  I giggle and he sheepishly smiles, then rubs the back of his head. “I was going to say that I’ve met your parents already. Nice people,” he comments, going back to pruning his flowers.

  I feel myself deflate a little. He’s so disinterested, and it’s obvious. He’s already gone back to gardening, although he looks handsome doing it. Those tiny blooms are a stark contrast to that huge, muscled form.

  Unfortunately, all the confidence I had a mere 30 seconds ago seeps out of me instantly. Of course he wouldn’t be interested in me. If Brady’s already talked to my parents, then he must know how old I am. Which is too young.

  To avoid looking awkward, I start watering the roses in the bush below me.

  “So Brady, what a nice name. Welcome to the neighborhood. Any connection to Sergeant Brady from Homeland?”

  He stops pruning his flowers and leans on the fence, looking directly at my breasts. Then he pauses and looks up at me. I practically melt into his blue eyes. They slightly darken as a hard look crosses his face. Then with a jerk of his head, he shakes off whatever feeling just passed through him.

  “No, that’s just a TV show, and I think it’s Sergeant Brody, and not Brady. But I am a military guy.”

  “Military?” I ask with a smile. I sit down the watering can and cross my arms under my breasts, making sure they sit up high on top of my arms. “Where have you been?”

  He raises his arms up again and rubs the back of his head uneasily. He looks away for a second and I take in the way his arm flexes as he stretches. His chest is smooth and there is a not one hair on his whole torso. I trace his body all the way down with my eyes, past his sculpted abs, and to the small trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his boxers. My mouth goes dry as I imagine what lies beneath.

  “Afghanistan, Iraq, and other countries that I can’t disclose,” he says, chuckling slightly. He returns his eyes to me, humor framing his eyes.

  I liked seeing this slightly gentler side of him, and smile back while shading my eyes from the sun.

  “Oh okay, are they like top secret or something?” I ask, raising my eyebrow playfully.

  He chuckles again. “Something like that. So what’s your story, Susie?”

  I smile coquettishly.

  “Nuh uh, you’re not turning the conversation away from yourself so fast. But as for me, I’ve lived in Remford my whole life. I’m only child, and it’s nothing special. I’m going to be a senior soon, and I’m looking forward to college. Pretty boring compared to you, Mr. Military Man. I’m assuming there are stories behind all of these tattoos of yours?” I ask archly, nodding to his chest.

  I watch his breathing change as he takes a step back from me. He looks down and I see him tense up again.

  “Uh yeah. Nothing I want to really get into at the moment,” he says in a terse voice.

  Then, Brady looks off into the distance and I suddenly feel very childlike. This is not how I expected this to go at all. But then of course, what did you expect? I just told him I was still in high school. Brady doesn’t want to go to jail, although I just turned 18 so it’s actually legal. Maybe I should mention my age, I think to myself.

  I open my mouth to speak when he breaks the silence. “Yeah I’m actually headed back to Afghanistan in a couple of days.”

  I close my mouth, stunned. My eyes grow big with disappointment. My shoulders slump and my head drops.

  “Oh really? But you just moved in?” I ask with confusion.

  He shrugs. “Yeah it sucks, but that’s how the American government works. Besides, I’ll only be gone for fifteen months. I’m keeping the house. You could help look after it for me. You know, make sure Mr. Joe down the street doesn’t chuck an ankle weight through the window during one of his walks.” We laugh together and it’s nice actually. This guy really does have a sense of humor.

  I nod, smiling. “I can definitely do that. I don’t trust any man that wears shorts that tight. Plus, he looks to be about seventy, which makes it really weird.”

  Brady laughs a little harder and makes a check mark motion.

  “Okay, so Susie from next door hates tight shorts. Got it. I won’t be doing that then.”

  I laugh along with him. “Well, on that age and body type, it doesn’t seem right. But I don’t mind them on myself,” I say flirtatiously, turning to the side and playfully patting my butt. “What do you think?”

  An intense look flashes across the soldier’s handsome face. He slightly bites his lip and then looks at the ground. It’s a moment before he says anything. But when he does, his voice is normal.

  “Agreed. There’s a weight and age limit for sure for those shorts.” He chuckles again and then looks at me. The blue of his eyes sear me, and I shiver at its intensity.

  “Um, I know this may be a bit forward since we just met. But I’m a huge supporter of the armed services, and wouldn’t mind sending you care packages while you’re deployed? Would that be something you’d be interested in?” I ask hesitantly. “Of course, you can say no. It’s no problem.”

  He stares at me for a beat before nodding slowly.

  “No, I couldn’t ask you to do something like that. We just met and I feel like that would be a huge burden.”

  I bounce up and down slightly, pleading with my eyes.

  “No, it’s no trouble at all,” I say. “It’s just some cookies and other baked goods. It’s no big deal, I promise. The Junior League actually works with a lot of veterans’ groups, so I know how much the cookies are apprec
iated when a soldier is far from home.”

  Brady looks away again, still shaking his head no. Boldly, I reach out across the fence and touch his warm, sweaty, muscular arm. He tenses up like he’s going to back away from my touch. Then he relaxes and looks me in the eye. After a couple of second of silence, he gives in.

  “Alright sure. Why not? I’ll send you my address overseas when I have it.”

  He takes my hand off his arm and holds it for a second. The electricity that passes between us has me gasping, and my eyes flick to his. We stare at each other for a moment, our bodies calling to one another. I feel like I’m going to either melt or combust, the connection is so strong.

  But the fantasy is cut short when he clears his throat and pats my hand, before gently letting it go.

  “That’s really nice of you Susie. I appreciate it.”

  I tilt my head to the side, puzzled. “No girlfriend or wife or anything?”

  He shakes his head no, his expression shuttered.

  “Nope, never been around someone long enough to get that serious,” he says with a wry smile.

  I nod, understanding. “Interesting…”

  “What’s interesting about it?” he asks, looking intently at me.

  I shake my head. “Nothing, it’s just interesting that you don’t have someone steady. How old are you, may I ask?”

  He grins.

  “I’m too old for you.”

  My cheeks blush because that’s the first verbal sign I’ve had that he’s thinking along the same lines at me.

  “Come on, how old?” I wheedle with a coy smile.

  He grins and finally states, “Thirty-five.”

  “Thirty-five!” I say while pretending to wipe my forehead. “Whew! Well, I’m eighteen.”