9: The Neighbor’s Son

Chloe’s tea had gone cold beside her. She hadn’t meant to sit this long, hadn’t meant to fall into the diary’s pages like they were quicksand. But every time she told herself just one more entry, she turned another page.

The next story had been written in the same looping hand, but the title leapt out at her:

“Episode 5: The Neighbor’s Son.”

Chloe raised her eyebrows, biting back a half-smile. She adjusted her legs beneath her and read on.

….

At thirty-five, Elena found herself back in her childhood home, a place she swore she’d left behind for good. The divorce had stripped her of more than a husband; it had taken her sense of direction, her confidence, and that quiet belief that life would always move forward. Now, she was stuck in a pause. The walls still smelled faintly of her mother’s perfume, the porch light buzzed the way it always had, and the creak in the hallway floor reminded her just how small the world could feel when you’d run out of options.

Her neighbor was kind, always had been. The sort of man who trimmed her mother’s hedges when she couldn’t, who waved when she pulled into the driveway like nothing about her life had come undone. But lately, her attention had drifted toward his son.

Lucas was twenty-one, maybe twenty-two with a lean, athletic build and a face that still carried the softness of adolescence. He was fresh from college. All easy smiles and unearned confidence, the kind that comes before life teaches you how to guard yourself. He was polite, thoughtful, always offering to carry her groceries or hold the door when her hands were full. She told herself she barely noticed him. That was a lie she repeated often enough that it almost sounded true.

The truth was, she noticed everything. The way his shirt clung to him when he came home from a run. The way his laughter carried over the fence when he talked to his friends. The way his eyes lingered, just a heartbeat too long, when their gazes met.

It was one of those warm, sleepy summer nights when everything changed. She sat on the back porch with a glass of wine, her bare feet propped on the railing, the air humming with crickets and nostalgia. The sky stretched wide and soft above her, heavy with stars.

Then came his voice. “Hey, this got delivered to us by mistake.”

She turned. He stood at the edge of the porch steps, holding a small package with her name scrawled across it. His dark hair was tousled, as if he’d just run his fingers through it, and his blue eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and desire. He wore a simple white t-shirt and jeans, the casual attire doing little to hide the vitality that seemed to radiate from him.

He handed her the box, but didn’t move to leave. Instead, he lingered, glancing toward the empty chair beside her. “Mind if I sit?”

She hesitated… then nodded.

They talked about nothing at first. About his classes, about how strange it felt for him to be back home, about how much the town had or hadn’t changed. She found herself smiling more than she had in months. His voice was warm, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to listen.

Then the silence between them began to stretch not uncomfortable, just charged. The air grew thicker somehow, quieter. His knee brushed hers. Once. Then again.

Neither of them moved away.

She turned her head slightly and found his eyes already on her. There was a flicker of something there… hesitation, curiosity, desire. A mix that made her pulse stumble.

When he leaned in and kissed her, the shock of it made her laugh softly against his mouth. “What are we doing?” she whispered, though her hand was already resting on his chest, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heart.

He didn’t answer. He just kissed her again, deeper this time, and every reason she had to stop dissolved somewhere between the warmth of his mouth and the ache in her chest she hadn’t felt in years.

He was too young. Too close. Too forbidden.

But his touch made her forget all the rules she’d lived by. She felt alive in a way she hadn’t in years, and the sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Come with me,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the fire igniting in her core. She took his hand, leading him to the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting a warm, intimate light. The bed, with its rumpled sheets and plush pillows, seemed to beckon them, a silent promise of what was to come.

Elena reached out, gently caressing his face, and leaned in for a deep, passionate kiss. Her tongue danced with his as she pulled him closer, their bodies pressing together.

Elena broke the kiss and began trailing her lips along Lucas's neck, nibbling and sucking at his sensitive skin. Her hands roamed over his chest, fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his toned physique. Lucas let out a soft moan as Elena's teeth grazed his earlobe, her hot breath sending shivers down his spine.

"Mmm, you're so responsive," Elena murmured, her voice low and sultry. "I can't wait to see what other sounds I can coax out of you."

She pushed Lucas onto his back and straddled him, her thighs astride his hips. Elena slowly ground her hips against him, feeling his arousal grow beneath her. Her hands slid down his chest, fingers toying with the waistband of his jeans.

"Let's get rid of these," she said, her voice laced with desire. With a quick motion, Elena unbuttoned his jeans and tugged them down his legs, tossing them aside. She took a moment to admire the tent forming in Lucas's boxers before hooking her fingers in the waistband and pulling them down as well.

Lucas's erection sprang free, and Elena licked her lips at the sight. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly as she leaned down to place feather-light kisses along his chest and stomach. Lucas gasped and arched his back, his hips thrusting up into her hand.

"God, Elena," he panted, his eyes fluttering shut. "That feels amazing."

Elena smiled up at him, her eyes dark with lust. "We're just getting started, baby."