Dirty Neighbor (The Dirty Suburbs) Read Online Free
Author: Cassie-Ann L. Miller
dress.
Not today. Please.
The past few weeks have been too good, too perfect. My crush asked me to the prom. I bought a dress and got my hair done.
Not today.
In the back of my mind, I’ve always known that the Masters’ would bolt again. It’s their modus operandi . I just never imagined that they’d pull their disappearing act today, on prom day.
As I step out onto the porch, I see my brother kick at the Master’s front door in frustration. My mother huddles with Nancy and Delores in the driveway, speaking in hushed tones. She glances at me, tears shining in her compassionate eyes.
It’s true…
They’re gone. Without a word. Without a goodbye. He’s gone.
I’m paralyzed. I can’t move. I knew this was all too good to be true.
A girl like me doesn’t get to go to prom with a guy like Keeland Masters.
Chapter 6
Present day…
“Sammie!”
Before I’ve even had the chance to fully process that it’s actually him standing in the doorway in front of me, he ropes his sinewy, inked arms around my shoulders and pulls me in for a tight squeeze.
God – He’s just a pillar of steely muscles covered in a layer of soft, warm, tattooed skin...
I’m trying hard not to like it.
Chaos swirls inside of me and I have no idea how to react. I haven’t seen this guy in eight years. He disappeared into thin air on our prom day, shattering my 17-year-old heart in the process. And now, he’s back and he’s acting like it’s the good old days.
He finally releases me and pushes me back slightly to hold me at arm’s length. “Well, look at you. You’re all grown up, Sammie Trotten.”
His focus moves lazily from my eyes to my lips, then down my neck before settling on my breasts (which are squished together in my tight neon green yoga bra). Then, he continues down my bare stomach, my wide hips, my toned calves.
Looking rather satisfied, he smirks.
“What are you doing here?” I snap angrily.
My sharp tone seems to startle him. He drops his hands from my shoulders and steps back. “Ah, that’s right. Daniel’s been trying to call you since yesterday. He couldn’t reach you. He wanted to let you know that I’ll be staying here for a while.”
“You’re staying here?” I grimace. It’s just like Daniel to spring something like this on me without warning. I would have appreciated the opportunity to prepare for this. Or to say ‘no’. I’m not happy at all to have Keeland staying next door again.
And no, I’m not petty.
What he did to me was damn shitty. Yes, I get it. He was just a kid and his family was moving. He didn’t have a choice. But he never once tried to reach out to me and offer an explanation, and possibly an apology, for what had happened. I spent a lot of time wondering about him over the years. I imagined a thousand scenarios as to why the Masters’ left, where they went and if they’d ever come back. I imagined some pretty tragic, heart-breaking stuff.
Then, a few years later, I found him on Facebook, healthy and well and hotter than sin. And one not-so-sober night, I sent him a friend request.
He never responded.
What kind of person does that?...A shitty person, that’s who.
Yet, every few days, he would update his status or post new pictures. Despite the sharpness of the resentment inside of me, I just couldn't look away. Apparently, he’d opened a tattoo shop in Los Angeles and it was thriving. He would post pictures of work he’d done on B-list celebrities or carefree trust fund kids. Every now and then, there would be a picture of himself partying with friends like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Then, photos of him with a girl started popping up. She had acid blonde hair and intricate tattoos covering most of her skin. According to Facebook, her name was RhysTheBadAss O’Gallic.
Yeah, I know …
There was one photo in
Not today. Please.
The past few weeks have been too good, too perfect. My crush asked me to the prom. I bought a dress and got my hair done.
Not today.
In the back of my mind, I’ve always known that the Masters’ would bolt again. It’s their modus operandi . I just never imagined that they’d pull their disappearing act today, on prom day.
As I step out onto the porch, I see my brother kick at the Master’s front door in frustration. My mother huddles with Nancy and Delores in the driveway, speaking in hushed tones. She glances at me, tears shining in her compassionate eyes.
It’s true…
They’re gone. Without a word. Without a goodbye. He’s gone.
I’m paralyzed. I can’t move. I knew this was all too good to be true.
A girl like me doesn’t get to go to prom with a guy like Keeland Masters.
Chapter 6
Present day…
“Sammie!”
Before I’ve even had the chance to fully process that it’s actually him standing in the doorway in front of me, he ropes his sinewy, inked arms around my shoulders and pulls me in for a tight squeeze.
God – He’s just a pillar of steely muscles covered in a layer of soft, warm, tattooed skin...
I’m trying hard not to like it.
Chaos swirls inside of me and I have no idea how to react. I haven’t seen this guy in eight years. He disappeared into thin air on our prom day, shattering my 17-year-old heart in the process. And now, he’s back and he’s acting like it’s the good old days.
He finally releases me and pushes me back slightly to hold me at arm’s length. “Well, look at you. You’re all grown up, Sammie Trotten.”
His focus moves lazily from my eyes to my lips, then down my neck before settling on my breasts (which are squished together in my tight neon green yoga bra). Then, he continues down my bare stomach, my wide hips, my toned calves.
Looking rather satisfied, he smirks.
“What are you doing here?” I snap angrily.
My sharp tone seems to startle him. He drops his hands from my shoulders and steps back. “Ah, that’s right. Daniel’s been trying to call you since yesterday. He couldn’t reach you. He wanted to let you know that I’ll be staying here for a while.”
“You’re staying here?” I grimace. It’s just like Daniel to spring something like this on me without warning. I would have appreciated the opportunity to prepare for this. Or to say ‘no’. I’m not happy at all to have Keeland staying next door again.
And no, I’m not petty.
What he did to me was damn shitty. Yes, I get it. He was just a kid and his family was moving. He didn’t have a choice. But he never once tried to reach out to me and offer an explanation, and possibly an apology, for what had happened. I spent a lot of time wondering about him over the years. I imagined a thousand scenarios as to why the Masters’ left, where they went and if they’d ever come back. I imagined some pretty tragic, heart-breaking stuff.
Then, a few years later, I found him on Facebook, healthy and well and hotter than sin. And one not-so-sober night, I sent him a friend request.
He never responded.
What kind of person does that?...A shitty person, that’s who.
Yet, every few days, he would update his status or post new pictures. Despite the sharpness of the resentment inside of me, I just couldn't look away. Apparently, he’d opened a tattoo shop in Los Angeles and it was thriving. He would post pictures of work he’d done on B-list celebrities or carefree trust fund kids. Every now and then, there would be a picture of himself partying with friends like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Then, photos of him with a girl started popping up. She had acid blonde hair and intricate tattoos covering most of her skin. According to Facebook, her name was RhysTheBadAss O’Gallic.
Yeah, I know …
There was one photo in
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