It's raining as I walk up to the house, pushing past loads of people I don't know, trying to keep my hair from getting too soaked. I don't know anyone here, really, aside from my mother.
Some house party thing for the new neighbors. Which must sound weird, because I should probably know the old neighbors a little better than I actually do. I suppose I don't bother getting to know them because they've been here for years, and half of them think I'm out to light the entire neighborhood on fire.
As I enter the house, closely following my mother, I realize that most of our neighbors are out if my age range, anyway. A man who looks about 30 gives me a gruesome look as I slink past the staircase, and I look away quickly, not wanting to start any trouble.
Though every house in our row is small, this one is very nicely decorated on the inside. I run my fingertips along the edge of the granite counter, realizing how much cleaner this house is than ours. But, to be fair, nothing has been fully cleaned since my father passed away (including my mother's head).
My mother walks over to a lady in a floral collar shirt and offers her hand out. I can tell how fake her smile is. "I'm Dolores," she offers.
The woman's face lights up and she flashes a bright smile towards my mother. "Oh, hello! So glad you all could make it!" I take note of her heavy british accent. There aren't many people with those in South Dakota. Her eyes sweep over me, and I'm surprised to see that the corners of her mouth don't twitch down. "I'm Anne! You live right next door, yes? I believe I've seen your daughter getting on the bus around the time I leave for work."
Unsure if the question is directed at me or not, I focus my eyes on the floor. "Yes," my mother answers, seeming a bit less enthusiastic than before. "Do you have children?"
"Two, actually," Anne chirps. I bite the inside of my cheek, anxiety suddenly flaring in my stomach. Hopefully none of them will be attending my school. The last thing I need is two nosy kids with a loud-mouth mother right next door.
"Oh?" My mother places her hand on my back. "Do they go to Chester High?"
"Mhm! Starting Monday, yes." I groan internally. Shit. Anne stands on her tiptoes and looks around for a moment before spotting someone and grinning. "Harry! Can you come here for a moment, dear?"
"Yes, mum?" My back is turned to the voice, and I'm definitely not inclined to turn around.
"Come introduce yourself, darling," she says, and I have to bite my tongue to avoid laughing. Darling?
"But when the boy- Harry- comes into view, my urge to laugh comes to a halt. My eyes wander over his body, and fuck, I'm no longer disappointed that we're going to the same high school.
"Hello," Harry says, his eyes focused on me. I don't miss the way he eyes me up and down, his smile half-cocky. Shit. Hopefully he didn't realize how I was looking at him.
"Hi," I say, my voice sounding higher than usual. Shaking my head, I add: "I'm Jillian."
"Harry," he replies. Neither of us offer to shake hands, and instead sort of just stand there looking at each other for a few seconds. I try to take in every single one of his features: the way his hair curls on the side edges, how his eye color reminds me of the sea, the perfect shape of his jaw. His muscular build-
"How nice!" Anne interrupts, and I lose my train of thought. "What grade are you in, Jillian?"
"Me too," Harry says, that smile growing across his cheeks again. I grin back at him, feeling that familiar ache in the pit of my stomach. The urge to reach out and touch him, anywhere, really. I've gotten it with countless other boys, so it's not much of a surprise.
"Do you want me to show you around the house?" Harry offers. I can see right through his grin. Clever.
"Sounds nice," I respond. Harry nods to both mothers before smirking at me and walking ahead, motioning for me to follow him towards the staircase. And I definitely do.
"You're sure they won't come upstairs?" I pant into the air of the bedroom. Harry thrusts his hips up into me and I dig my nails into his shoulders, biting hard onto my lip. He's definitely well hung.
"Probably not," he grunts into my neck, and I shiver from the vibration it sends down my spine. "A little late for doubts, anyway, huh?"
Things progressed fast the moment we stepped into his room. It's not like I'm unfamiliar with these kinds of things, though. Hookups are to me as weed is to a stoner, and as slutty as that makes me sound, it's completely true.
Though, I do it for a different reason than most people think. It isn't to boost my ego. It isn't to get better at it. It's to feel something. I haven't felt much of anything since my dad passed, and it's nice to have someone make me feel something aside from the numbness that overtook my body three years ago.
It's a bonus when the boy is attractive, like Harry. "Fuck," I hiss when he hits a spot that makes my hips jerk wildly.
I hit my high a few minutes later, cursing and allowing him to help me ride out my orgasm with a few more thrusts. He comes, too, groaning into my shoulder and bucking into me at a quick pace.
Harry sits up and removes the condom, tossing it into the trashcan beside his bed. "Nice to meet you, Jillian."
I laugh and climb off of the bed, picking up my panties and slipping them on. "Yeah."
I decide that having Harry as a neighbor definitely won't be that bad.