Page 3 of Protector Next Door
2
Xander
I’mat the ticket counter switching my ticket from a one-way to San Jose for two days from now to a flight that’s pushing off in fifteenminutes.
The middle-aged woman at the counter slides my ID and ticket to me tells me the gatenumber.
“You better hurry,” she adds. “I’ll call the gate to let them know you’re coming, but whether they let you on or not depends on how crabby the person manning the boarding deskis.”
“Thank you so much,” I reply, sliding my ID and ticket into my back pocket. I slap the counter and point to her as I start to back away. “I’ll call customer service and tell them you went the extra mile,Ms…”
“Mallory,” she shouts to me as I start to hustle away with my suitcase bobbing comically behindme.
“Mallory!” I shout over my shoulder. “Thank you again! Yourock!”
I get to the end of the security line and have to ask every single person I want to cut in front of if it’s okay for me to go ahead of them, explaining over and over that I’m late for my flight. I’ve never been late for a flight before. People are more understanding than I would haveexpected.
Thank you, TSA PreCheck, for not making me take off myloafers.
I get to the gate just in time to slip through and make it onto the plane, and I’m lucky there was a seat available. The flight is very full. I pull my phone out of my back pocket once I’m settled into the last row and pull up my last text from Samantha to let her know I’ll be theresoon.
She goes by Sammy nowadays. I always thought Samantha was such a lovely name for a lovely young woman, but I understand her desire to be perceived as gender-neutral, if only in the small ways available toher.
The last time I saw her she was nineteen and I was in New York for a conference like the one I just came from. I doubt she even remembers seeing me, but I remember seeing her. Do Ieverremember seeing her. She had these incredible curves and her lips were thick, perpetually a little wet, and her eyes were wide-set, big, brown, and so damn expressive. It looked like there was a torrent of emotion inside those eyes of hers, and even though I only spoke to her for a few minutes before her dad and I were on our way, I can still remember the intensity of our connection. I canstillfeel it. We were drawn to each other like magnets. Her father even commented to me that she must really like me, because she never had many friends and was always anintrovert.
When I tipped her off to the house next door to mine being available, I never thought she’d actually entertain the possibility of moving in, let alone ultimately go through withit.
But I’d hoped she would, as unlikely as it seemed. I thought it would be helpful for her to have a friend in a new city, someone to guide her and who she trusted. A man who would be able to look out for her best interests. I know she can take care of herself, but I also know what it’s like to be a young man, and young men don’t always think with their brains, so if I can be there for her - I’msatisfied.
I let out a deep sigh. Now that I’m on my way to her, I realize my reaction to her call may have been anover-reaction. But when I heard the anxiety in her voice, it was the only choice I couldmake.
It didn’t feel like a choice at all. It felt like something I had to do. I wanted to be there for her even if she didn’t need me to be. I’ve never had to take care of anyone before, not on a personallevel.
And right now, even though I hate that Samantha is upset and afraid, it feels good to be there for her. It’s an odd feeling, this dueling, double-edged sword. I wish she weren’t in pain, but I’m happy to take some of it off her shoulders and put it on mine. I rest my elbow on the armrest and stroke my cheek absently as I peer out the window. As the plane starts to take off, a tug of affection pulls inside me. I care about her. Verydeeply.
And she probably has nothing to worryabout.
I’m just being a goodneighbor.
