MIND

Over the next few days, Dex pays more attention in the building. Looks out for any new faces when he enters or when he walks down the halls. Not knowing who moved in next door is driving him crazy. A neighbour can impact a routine easily. If they party or work late, if they blast music or slam the doors. He needs to know who moved in, and fast.

Then he meets you. He comes down one day to get his mail. As he walks over to the mail room, he notices you’re opening the small locker close to his. When he steps in, you’re sorting envelopes in your hands. He watches you, you’re completely unaware he’s there.

He takes the opportunity to take in your features. You look gentle, patient. He sees how your brows frown at the sight of some of the envelopes. You’re beautiful, that’s an understatement for Dex. You were crafted by the hands of an angel he thinks. You were sent from Heaven. Could he be so lucky to have a creature as heavenly as you live next door? He hopes so. He knows there are a few other units that don’t have tenants yet.

You finally look up and see him.

“Oh hi, I’m sorry, am I in the way?”

He doesn’t reply, so you fill the silence, while shutting your mailbox and locking it.

“Sorry, I was looking at my mail. There’s a ton for a guy named James.”

It confirms his theory. You’re the new neighbour. His new neighbour.

“It’s okay. Yeah, that guy moved 2 months ago. “

He gestures to your enveloppes. You nod at the information.

“Makes sense. It’s mostly junk though, I don’t think there’s anything important.”

He clears his throat, pointing at your mailbox, “You’re in 132?”

You smile, “Yes, I just moved in.”

He puts his keys in the box next to yours. “I’m in 131. Dex.”

He offers his hand, you shake it, introducing yourself in return.

“It’s nice to meet you Dex, I hope I haven’t been disturbing you. I just finished unpacking.”

He refocuses on his mail, taking out a few envelopes before closing the small door.

“Not disturbing at all” Except the fact that you were a mystery until now. You’re still a mystery, but at least now you’re a mystery with a name.

“Good. You’ll see, I’m discret. I shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good.”

He smiles, how wrong can you be?

You already are a problem, you’re a huge problem. That smile of yours has changed everything. The way your eyes sparkle as you smile his way. This is problematic. How can he go on with his day now that he knows you live right next door. Dex needs to find out all there is to know about you.

Over the next few weeks, Dex tries to map out your routine. You just moved in so maybe you haven’t figured out your routine yet. Or maybe you don’t have a routine at all. That would stress out Dex. He needs you to have a routine.

Even if your routine is still unclear, he’s come to a few realizations about you, one of them being that you cook when you’re nervous or had a bad day.

When you’re in the kitchen at abnormal hours, he wonders what’s on your mind. Is it work? Your family? Your boyfriend? There’s no sign you have one. Dex hasn’t seen anyone come by your apartment yet and you’re always home early. There’s no sign of a significant other on your socials.

He likes that. After all, he wants you to be his. So having a boyfriend could be a problem. Nothing Dex couldn’t solve, but still- Thankfully you don’t have one.

Dex sees you in the hallway as you both return home.

He stops at your door, “Hey.”

“Hey Dex.” You smile as you unlock your door.

Good, you’re talking to him. You’re looking at him now; waiting for him to say something. Anything at this point. He doesn’t know what to say to get you to stay in a conversation so he invents a problem.

“I broke my scissors last night, could I borrow yours? I’ll go buy some tomorrow I promise.”

“Sure, come on in.”

He follows you inside and stands in your living room as you fish a pair of scissors in your kitchen drawers.

Dex looks around, takes in the decoration. It’s minimal but it feels warm, cozy. Just like you do. This isn’t an apartment, it’s a home. You’ve been here for a short amount of time, yet your apartment looks 10 times more lived in than Dex’s. There’s a few plants here and there. Colourful pillows on the couch. You even have coloured appliances in your kitchen.

His head snaps back your way as you talk to him.

“Here,” you hand him the scissors. “Bring them back when you get a new pair. There’s no rush.” You smile.

He nods. “Thanks. I’ll see you around.”

“Have a good evening Dex.”

You smile at him as you walk him out. When he’s no longer in the hallway, you close your door.

The next day, Dex has a reason, an excuse to talk to you again. He walks over to your apartment, scissors in hand with the intention of asking you to coffee to “get to know each other since we’re neighbours”

He knocks. No answer. Another round of knocks. Still no answer, you’re not home. He goes back to his apartment and writes a note. The ball will be in your court that way.

He scribbles on a paper.

Hey, came by but you weren’t there. I wanted to give you back your scissors. -Dex

He hesitates at first but finally decides to slip the note under your door. You’d see it when you get back. Satisfied with his strategy, he heads back to his apartment.

When you get back and open the door to your apartment, you immediately notice the piece of paper on the floor. You pick it up and read it. It’s late, so you’ll go see him tomorrow.

When you head over to his door the next afternoon, there’s no response. You decide to imitate his idea and write him a note.

Hey Dex, came to see you but I guess you’re out. Seems like we’re missing each other all the time. I’ll be home all night long so feel free to pass by!

When he sees the note on his ground after opening his door, he smiles. You had made a move.

It says you’ll be home tonight. So he waits for a sign that you’re home. When he hears a commotion in your kitchen, he knows you’re home, probably baking. He doesn’t want to interrupt you as you’re working your magic. He’ll go once the noise dies down.

An hour later, he decides it’s time for him to head over. He grabs the scissors from his counter and exits his apartment.

He’s standing at your door, scissors in hand and he suddenly feels nervous. This time you’ll answer the door, he knows you’re there. He will come face to face with you and will have to talk- like a normal person. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath before raising his hand and knocking three times.

He hears the locks being undone and the door swings open. You’re there, smiling his way, greeting him, “Hey Dex! How are you? Come on in!”

He steps inside your home and you close the door. He didn’t expect you to invite him in this time around.

“Um. I’m fine. I figured I could give you back your scissors. Thanks again” He hands them to you and you take them.

“Thank you! Yeah, we kept missing each other. Good thinking with the note under the door.”

He nods, “I figured it was the easiest way to tell you I came by. “

“How about we exchange numbers? Could be useful if one of us needs something?”

“Yeah, that would be great”

It would be fantastic actually. Having your number meant having a direct way of communicating with you even if you’re not home. Dex wouldn’t be confined to talk to you only when you’re next door. He’d had access to you all the time. In a reasonable amount of course.

“It smells very nice.”

“Thank you! It’s cookies tonight. I usually bake way too much”, you point to the tray of freshly baked cookies. “Would you like one? Or five?” You chuckle.

“Yeah- I’ll take one please. They smell really good.”

“Thank you!”

You hand him a cookie on a plate.

“I will text you to give you your plate back.

“Don’t be shy to text if you want to grab more tomorrow if you like them. There’s so many.”

“I’ll let you know. Thanks again for the scissors. And the cookie.”

“My absolute pleasure.” You walk him out. You watch him walk back to 313 before closing your door and locking it again.

He walks back into his apartment, cookie in hand.

He now has your phone number, this went way better than expected. It makes sense though, for you two to exchange numbers. You are neighbours, anything could happen.

Nothing happens. It’s been 2 weeks and nothing has happened except the usual “hey” and “how are you doing” in the hallway. Nothing except the small talk in the elevator when you’re riding up or down at the same time.

And that makes Dex sad. Confused.

Maybe you don’t like him, maybe you’ve got a life full of friends already, maybe even a boyfriend- no please god, Dex thought, not a boyfriend. Maybe you don’t have time for him, maybe you don’t care for him. After all, he’s just your neighbour. Your pathetic, loser neighbour-

Ping.

Dex’s phone vibrates. He looks at it, a message from you lighting up the screen.

I’ve just baked apple pie, are you free to come over to try it?

He replied instantly.

I will be there right away.

You baked apple pie? His favorite? He had mentioned in the elevator one day that it was his favorite. You had listened. And you had remembered.

He remembers you saying you never tried your hand at apple pie, or any pie for that matter, so did you try it for him?

After shaking his intrusive thoughts out of his head, he walks out of his apartment. Taking the few steps over to your door, he breathes to calm himself down. You just invited him over, he can’t look like an excited puppy. He needs to look relaxed and chill. He knocks on your door and you shout from inside, “Come on in!”

When he steps into your apartment, the delicious smell hits him.

You’ve got your oven mitts on as you put the fresh pie on your counter. That looks like a scene from a movie Dex has seen. The scene where the wife takes out the dinner out of the oven as the husband comes home from work. Dex thinks about coming home from work to you cooking a good meal for him and it makes his stomach all fuzzy.

It’s not that you’d cook for him, he doesn’t want to seem traditional. It’s the fact that you’d care for him enough to make dinner for him if he came back from work late. It’s you caring about him enough to remember the small details- like remembering his favorite pie. It’s about you picking up the signs to know if he had a bad day at work or not before he even says a word. It’s not you cooking that makes his heart beat faster, it’s what it would represent.

Dex would cook for you too, breakfasts mostly. He’d love to make you his famous turned eggs after sleeping in together on a rainy day. He thinks about coming home at the same time as you after work and agreeing to getting food delivered and eating it in front of the tv. He wants you to be his equal, his partner. So no, it’s not about you cooking, it’s about what it sparks in him in that moment. He sees you living with him. He sees you becoming a part of his routine. You becoming his favorite part of his routine. You being in his life makes sense. It all makes sense with you.

He catches himself staring at you and decides he needs to say something. “It smells lovely in here.”

“Thank you! I hope it tastes as good as it smells. I’ve never done pie. I really hope the crust is okay!”

“I’m sure it will be”

He smiles your way. You love his smile, he always looks shy when he smiles, which makes him even more attractive. You love how kind he looks when he smiles at you.

~

Over the weeks, you quickly become friends. He comes over to try your desserts when you ask. Ever since your apple pie turned out to be a success, you’re always trying new things. Some are a success, some are… well, not as much, but you always get a good laugh out of it.

Dex remembers when you tried an upside down cake and the texture was off. Way off. You had laughed so hard and felt so bad for dragging him into that taste test.

He laughed with you before proposing an alternative, “How about we go for milkshakes, my treat?”

“I’m down for milkshakes but I feel like I should pay. Especially after making you try this cake- if we can call it that.”

“I insist, it’s my treat. And it’s probably the recipe that’s off. It’s not you.”

“You’re too sweet. Okay, I won’t argue with you. Next one is on me though!"

Dex hadn’t argued at that moment, but he wasn’t gonna let you pay. Ever.

~

Dex wants to invite you over to his place. He hasn’t in the two months you’ve been seeing each other on a more regular basis.

You constantly let him into your world, sharing things about your childhood and your work. You’ve invited him into your home multiple times. He figures he needs to let you into his world too. It’s only equal, fair.

So he texts you.

How about coffee or tea this afternoon? At mine? You can bring goodies if you want to of course. I’m not that skilled at baking.

You reply a few minutes later.

Ouh, afternoon tea? That’s fancy. I’m in! I can be there at 3? I will be bringing goodie!

Good, see you at 3.

You liked his message. Okay, you’re coming over at 3. That gives him a few hours to prepare. He cleans, even if his apartment is always clean. He wants everything to go well. He’s got coffee and 3 sorts of tea so that should be fine. He’s got music, should he put music on? Would that be weird? If not, what song does he put? Okay, no music, he decides.

You knock at 3 on the dot. He opens the door. “Hey, come on in.”

“Thanks” you murmur as you step inside.

Your eyes catch the view outside his windows.

“Your view is nice”, you set your plate of cookies on his counter. He’s got a street view, whereas you have a view on the side of the building. Not as glamorous.

“Thanks.”

You have a look around the open space containing the living room and kitchen. Dex is nervous, what if you don’t like how he is, who he is. Home reflect people, what if you had a bad feeling about his place or if it wasn’t like you thought. He doesn’t want to disappoint you.

You look at him, he’s standing in the middle of the room. “Your kitchen looks bigger than mine. When I move, I’ll be paying more attention to the kitchen.”

Dex chokes on air. You want to move?

“You’ve got any plans of moving?”

“Not for now. I just moved. But when I do, I want a bigger kitchen. And maybe an extra room, for an office.”

“Sounds nice.”

You stop in front of his cassette player by his kitchen table. It clearly caught your eye.

“You can play something if you want.“

You look at him, a smile creeping on your face, “yeah?”

He walks over to your side, arms almost touching, and opens the box where all his cassettes are. “Yeah, your pick.”

Your eyes sparkle at the view of the collection. You smile brightly and look up at him next to you, almost silently asking again for his permission. It makes his heart drop.

When you look at him like that, he thinks he could die happy. He doesn’t want to die, but if it were his time, he’d be happy you were the last sight he laid his eyes on. No, he doesn’t want to die, like he has so many times, cause you make him feel alive. When you’re around, life is brighter. When you’re with him, you make life wonderful. You make him believe life is worth living. A life with you is worth living. He wants to live, for you. To make you happy, to love you. Yeah, loving you makes this all worth it.

You trace a few rows of cassettes with your finger before pulling one out. You put it in the player and press the play button.

A man without love by Engelbert Humperdinck plays.

He steps closer to you, arms now touching fully. He raises the volume of the song.

Every day I wake up, then I start to break up, lonely is a man without love.

“Nice choice.” He’s listened to this song thinking about you. How he’s been less lonely since you showed up. How he would never again be a lonely man if he had your love. How your love is the solution to all his problems. How he would never again relate to this song if you only loved him.

You turn to face him, which creates a little distance between you, to be able to look up to him. “Yeah? So, about coffee- was it all a lie to get me here?” You smirk.

“No, it wasn’t a lie. More like an excuse.”

“I like your honesty.” You grin.

You close the distance between you, your chest now fully against his. You raise your right hand so it rests on the side of his neck.

When he doesn’t back away, you kiss him. He freezes. Then he melts into the kiss once he registers what’s happening. He didn’t think inviting you in for coffee would result in this. He grins into the kiss, happy you made the move. He wanted to, but he always gets nervous when you’re close. When he’s around you, he forgets about everything else. You’re like the remedy for his problems. There’s nothing your smile can’t fix. When he has a bad day, just seeing you in the hallway makes it better. When you hang out together, he thinks you were put on this earth to give purpose to his life.

When he’s with you, he feels good, but nervous. Nervous because he doesn’t truly know how to act. Nervous cause he doesn’t want to do something you wouldn’t like, something that would push you away. Should he compliment you, tell you how beautiful you look? You always do, but should he always tell you? He doesn’t want to get on your nerves, he doesn’t want to make a mistake. He does want to lose you.

He rests his forehead against yours, grinning like an idiot, “This is way better than coffee.”

You chuckle. “It is.”

“Would you like to have dinner with me instead. ”

You raise your eyebrow, “Like right now?” It’s too early to eat dinner, you think.

“No, this week. Maybe Friday?”

“Oh sorry, you make me nervous sometimes.”

He makes you nervous? Why? He’s just a regular guy. But you- you’re special.

He confesses too, “You make me nervous too.”

“Good. We’re even then.” You smile, “and yes for dinner with you. Friday works for me.”

“Perfect.” He smiles, “So, you want tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please.”

The next time you kiss, he doesn’t freeze. He’s even the one initiating it. It’s as if kissing him that first time ignited something in him. He took that kiss as a green light. A green light telling him you’re his now.