Page 9 of My Neighbor's Secret

A car horn blares loudly, making me jolt, and a quick scan of my surroundings reveals the angry sound came from the SUVimmediately ahead of me—the last car waiting in that long line for the red light to turn green.

“What the heck?” I murmur, raising my hand to the honking car.

The driver raisesbothhands at me, so I shoot the gesture back at him. I don’t know what he’s all riled up about. I’m obviously planning to straighten out my car after he moves through the light. Only a maniac would leave their car’s ass hanging out and blocking traffic. Give me some credit, dude. But even if I were planning to leave my car askew like this, it’s none of his concern.

The guy honks again, but thankfully, it’s just as the distant light is turning green, which means he’ll be gone and out of my hair, soon enough.

Oh no.

The asshole in the SUV isn’t driving away, even though the line of cars is moving along now. No, he’s bursting out of his car and marching toward me with palpable fury. Oh, no.He’s the boy bander from Captain’s! Well, shit. I guess I’m not The Parking God’s favorite, after all.

When the guy reaches my car window, he bends down to make eye contact. My window is closed, but I can clearly make out the words “What the fuck?” hurtling from his mouth. With an angry scowl, he raps his knuckles on my car window and motions for me to roll it down. But I’m never one to willingly subject myself to an angry man, if I can help it. And that’s especially true now, when I’m in the biggest hurry of my life. Also, when the angry man in question already hates me, thanks to our run-in at the bar yesterday. Although . . . I’ve turned many an irate passenger into a purring kitten, so maybe it’s worth a try to see if I can calm him down and make him quickly go away and let me park my freaking car.

I plaster my best flight-attendant smile onto my face and crack my window an inch. “What a small world!” I say brightly through the small gap. “We met at Captain’s yesterday, remember?”

“Yeah, you’re the one who practically made out with my ‘smoking-hot’ asshole of a father.”

Crap. “You’re actually way hotter than him. The only reason I asked your father to help me, instead of you, is—”

“I don’t give a shit, Charlotte. All I care about is you moving your car, so I can make it on time to an important interview. If you wouldn’t mind . . .” He gestures for me to skedaddle.

I’m surprised he remembered my name from yesterday. Honestly, I don’t remember his, if I heard it at all. “I’ve actually got an important interview, too. And I grabbed this spot, fair and square, so . . .” I shoot his “skedaddle” gesture right back at him.

The boy bander looks incredulous. “Didn’t you see me waiting on the minivan to pull away? I was sitting right there.”

“I saw you waiting in a line of cars for the light up ahead to change.”

“I was waiting for this spot! For five full minutes, I watched the driver get into her minivan, and check her phone, and put on some lipstick, beforefinallypulling away.”

“You were infrontof the minivan, at the back of the line of cars.”

“So I could parallel park after she pulled away!” he shouts. “I was behind her, at first.”

I smirk. “Listen, if you’re going to lie, then at least do it well. I drove past here not three minutes ago, and you were nowhere to be found. Not in front or behind.Nowhere.” I make the “skedaddle” motion again. “Now, please, do the right thing and move your car, because I’m late for a very important job interview, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let a petty little man who can’t handle being rejected by a woman at a bar mess thingsup for me.” He’s actually quite tall. Much taller than I realized at the bar. But in my experience, all men despise being called “little” in any context, so “little” is what I’m calling him now.

He turns pale. In a strained voice, he says, “Please, please, tell me you’re not interviewing at the animal hospital.”

“Thankfully, no, if that’s where you’re going.”

“Thank god.”

“The feeling’s mutual, I assure you.” I glance at the clock on my dashboard and anxiety rockets through me. “Move your car,please. I need to go now, or I’m going to be late.”

The boy bander crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. “Maybe I wasn’t there for a full five minutes. Maybe it only felt that long. But I was one-hundred-percent waiting there, patiently, for at least two minutes. When you came along and stole the spot like an asshole, I’d only just moved forward to get into position to parallel park after the minivan drove away.”

“Maybe take a look in the mirror before calling someone an asshole,asshole. I’m not the one getting petty revenge because I got rejected at a fucking bar for the first time in my life.”

He scoffs. “Revenge? I didn’t even know you were the driver of this car until I walked up to your window!”

A car horn blares. And then another. We’re blocking the road, and drivers have to wait for gaps in oncoming traffic to get around us.

“Even if you were waiting for the spot, which I don’t believe is true,” I sniff, “then possession is nine-tenths of the law. AndI’mthe one in possession of this spot.”

“That’s a myth. My brother’s a lawyer, and he told me—"

“I don’t care what your brother told you!” I shriek, sounding unhinged, even to myself. But I can’t help it. I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown here. With each passing second, I can feel that perfect job slipping away. God help me, if this former-Disney-star-toothpaste-model-aged-out-boy-bander makes memiss out on this perfect opportunity to make some much-needed money, I’ll make him rue the day. Through gritted teeth, I say, “Move your car and be the bigger man. Wouldn’t that feel good, to know you’ve helped me get the perfect job?”

He scoffs. “Sorry, this is one time being gorgeous won’t get you what you want, Charlotte.”

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