New neighbors Andi and Hayden don't get off to the best start - and neither do their dogs. When the hostility between their pets, Bart and Rosie, leads to noisy barking, Andi and Hayden must solve their pet's tension or risk eviction from their apar...
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"He's not crying?" Andi yells, her strained voice filtering through the bathroom wall. "Or shaking?"
"He's not," I assure her. "He's standing by the counter and staring at me."
Bart tilts his head. I do the same.
Andi is worried about leaving us alone while she changes, but she doesn't need to be. There's a good twelve feet between Bart and I, and we're fine. We're sturdy.
"Tell me if he starts." Clangs ring from the other side of the wall. "I don't want him to think I left him with you."
That's nice.
"He can hear you yelling, so I doubt that."
There's a pause in her clatter. "Still."
The noises resume, and I wince at what sounds like our soap dispenser bouncing around the ground. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Andi was fighting real aliens in there. The bathroom is only a small cube with a single toilet, but you'd think she was collapsing a bridge with the sounds tumbling out. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she says. "It's just—the straps are hard to—"
"Do you need help?" The words leave my mouth before I think better of them.
The noise cuts. Dead silence. "Oh, uh, no. I'm fine."
Maybe that's for the best. Half of me wants to help, but the other half knows touching her more than needed is not a good idea to. My hand still burns from the softness of her ear.
I'm attracted to her. That fact is obvious even if I'm not reading into our relationship. Also obvious is our budding friendship. I don't let myself dwell on other complexities. We're friends. That's all I need to know.
Or all I'm trying to focus on, at least.
The noise picks up again, but an exasperated, antsy huff seeps through the door. "But that might be quicker. It would save time." Her voice is firm but flies away on the last word.
And just like that, the half of me that wants to help, to touch her again, rises to the surface. I step right outside the door.
"I can't open." She taps the doorknob. "Could you come in? It's unlocked."
I twist the doorknob, bracing for whatever I'll find on the other side (holes in the wall, cracks in the sink, or a million real aliens). The door springs open.
And even bracing for the impossible couldn't have prepared me for the sight of Andi.
The dress is shorter than it should be on her tall figure. It creeps up her thighs in a silent taunt, squeezing to shape the dip of her hips. Over her chest sit two straps crossed in an x, leaving her tight stomach and upper chest unaccounted for by green fabric.
But that's not what draws my eyes.
Andi cups her breasts to keep the dress in place. Since her top isn't tied, one wrong move and the fabric falls.
