All throughout dinner, Brian’s moods are more unpredictable than the weather. One second, he’s talking and laughing animatedly then the next, he’s frowning and remembering something that seems to be bothering him and he automatically switches back to Jerk Brian. Somehow though, I’m enjoying myself.  A lot. Though he doesn’t talk much about himself, I learn that he’s from Kentucky and grew up in a conservative Christian environment. He doesn’t talk much about his work, only mentions that music is his life. We spend a great deal of time talking about me though, which I found uncomfortable but he had many questions.

When we head back home, the sun is setting beautifully behind the mountains and there’s a moment of peaceful silence as we both soak it in. Brian is holding Bronx’s leash who is walking at a steady pace by his side. This moment feels… perfect, and I don’t want it to end.

“I have my work cut out for me with all this fudge,” I say quietly, hinting. He doesn’t say anything. “Maybe I could use a hand.” Our eyes meet and his are soft, contemplating. Nice Brian is still around.

“I don’t have any other plans for the evening,” he replies and my heart does a leap of joy that I quickly push down, mentally telling myself to chill out. When we reach my house, he patiently waits as I slide the key through the slot and then follows me in. Bronx immediately runs into the kitchen and straight to his water bowl, leaving Brian and I standing in the entryway.

“Well,” I say, slightly sweeping my arms around. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

I walk down the hallway toward my bedroom and take a quick glance behind me. It’s strange seeing him in my house. He had taken his shoes off at the entryway and was now looking around the living room, staring at the pictures on top of the mantle. I can see a small smile on his face and my stomach does flips again. Asshole Neighbour… in my house. Who would’ve thought?

I quickly change into a pair of light grey University of British Columbia sweatpants and a navy blue tank top, tie my hair up into a high messy bun, and meet Brian in the living room. He’s still by the fireplace and turns around when he hears my voice.

“Ready?” I ask. He stares at me for a few seconds longer, blinks, and then replies.

“Yeah.”  He follows me into the kitchen where he takes a seat at the dark mahogany table. I place two large bags of fudge in front of him, the cellophane, ribbons, scissors, and a knife. “This is cool. I’ve never done this before.”

I smile as I take two wine glasses out of the cupboards. “It’s pretty time consuming.” I place the glasses on the table along with a fresh bottle of white wine. “I hope you like wine.”

“Wine and fudge,” he murmurs, getting to work on cutting the fudge into small cubes. “How very Banff of you.”

“Brian! You know the fudge is for the kids, right?” I giggle as he pops another cube into his mouth. His reply is a cheesy grin and he refills our wine glasses. We’re about two-thirds through the wine and I can feel my face turning pink from the alcohol.

“This is,” he says in between chewing. “So good.” He takes a sip of wine. “I’m pretty sure I’m on a sugar high while tipsy right now.”

I laugh, feeling the effects of the wine. It’s now past ten o’clock and we’re on the last few cubes of the fudge. It’s taking longer than expected as, halfway through, we had decided we needed a break and went out to walk Bronx and breathe in the night air. The wine made Brian a lot more talkative than he was during dinner and I discover that he has a witty sense of humour. What’s more is that I haven’t seen Asshole Brian since dinner either. I’m thoroughly enjoying his company.

We finish the last of the wine and wrap up the rest of the fudge by 10:30. He checks his watch and stands up abruptly. He sways a little and grips the edge of the table. “I-I’ve gotta go,” he says darkly, not meeting my eye. Oh no. Asshole Neighbour is back.

“Oh, ok.” I hear the tinge of disappointment in my voice and catch it with a smile. I stand up, my head swimming and take a deep breath before walking him to the door. He puts his shoes on and I follow him out to the porch. “Thank you for helping me, Brian.” My voice is quiet, my mind racing. He turns around then and his eyes are soft again; Nice Brian.

“I…” he takes a deep breath. “I actually had a really nice time tonight, London.”

I look up at him, his face softly illuminated by the porch light. It’s dark, but I see the blue of his eyes clear as day. His face is slightly pink, his hair in its usual untidiness. He looks so absolutely… and then it happens. I don’t know if it’s the influence of the alcohol, but in a moment of courage, I break the empty space between us and our lips are on each other’s; hungry, needing, wanting. He groans against my mouth, taking my face in his hands and deepens the kiss. His tongue is hot, sweet from the fudge, and his lips are firm against mine. My arms lace around his neck and my hands find the soft curls at the base. He lets out a soft moan and pulls me closer to him, leaning back against the porch railing. I’m between his legs and his hands move from my face down my body and grabs at my hips. The kiss softens and I feel him sigh against my mouth. He takes my face again, gently this time and breaks the kiss.

“I’m not what you’re looking for, London,” he breathes, looking intently into my eyes. I shake my head, not caring. My head is still swimming from the alcohol. He closes his eyes, and rests his forehead against mine, his hands still holding my face to him. “You… you are so beautiful,” he whispers and I feel like my heart could pound out of my chest. “Since the day I met you-“ He pauses and lets out a breath which is warm against my flushed face. We’re silent for a moment, before he pulls away from me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” He opens his eyes and kisses my lips softly, once and then again, not taking his gaze off mine. “Get some rest.” With that, he walks down the porch stairs and jogs across the street.

I watch him disappear into his house, and a light flickers on soon after. I take a deep breath, hugging myself and walk back into my house; my mind reeling and trying to grasp at what had just happened. I throw myself on the bed, a huge grin on my face and touch my lips. I just made out with Asshole-Neighbour. Who would’ve thought?

I groan as the sound of the doorbell wakes me. I turn over, the light hitting my eyes and I squeeze them back shut. My head is pounding. The ringing of the doorbell continues and I let out another frustrated groan as I drag myself out of bed. Who could be at my door so early in the morning? I swear if it’s Linda with her absurdly early morning random wake up visits I will- Oh. “Brian?”

He’s standing on my porch looking drop-dead gorgeous in black jeans, black combat boots, and a white knit sweater with light brown buttons. He holds up a paper bag and two cups of something steaming hot. “Breakfast,” he says with a grin. My heart melts and then I’m suddenly mortified. I must look like a tornado tossed me around right now. As if reading my mind, he adds, “You look beautiful, London.”

I could feel the blush on my face and let him inside. “Be right back,” I breathe and run for the bathroom. I relieve myself and check my face in the mirror. Ugh. I fix my bun, splash water on my face, and gargle some Listerine. Good enough. I walk back into the kitchen where Brian has placed the contents of the bag on plates; whole wheat blueberry bagels with cream cheese, turkey bacon, and scrambled eggs. I check the time and am surprised to see it’s only 7:30.

“How are you up at this time?” I grumble, taking a seat next to him and taking a sip out of the steaming cup. Mmm, french vanilla. “I feel like crap.”

“I knew you would,” he replies and takes something out of his pocket. Advil. I shake my head and smile. Who knew Asshole Neighbour could be so considerate. Then I sit upright.

“Where’s Bronx?”

“I let him out in the backyard while you were in the bathroom.”

My heart melts again. “Thanks.”

We eat breakfast in silence, but a pleasant one. Occasionally, I would glance over at him to see that he was already gazing at me. I would blush furiously and I’d see a hint of a smile on his face. When we finish, he helps me with the dishes and then gives me two Advils to take.

“Brian, thank you,” I say softly. “It seems I’m always thanking you and I haven’t found a way to repay you back for Bronx.”

He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.” He moves closer to me and my heart skips a beat. “I’ll get Bronx outside. I’ll see you later? After work?” I nod, mesmerized by his baby blues as he leans down, cups my chin, and plants a soft kiss on my lips. With this one simple gesture, I feel all sense of rationality leave me. It’s exciting and frightening at the same time.

I wasn’t planning on telling Linda right away, but the goofy smile plastered on my face all day gives it away. “Ohhhh my God, London!” she squeals and I shush her, not wanting anyone, especially Mark, to hear. Her voice drops to a whisper. “I knew it! I knew it! That rudeness… that was just some sexual tension going on.”

I roll my eyes. “Can you please keep it on the down low? Plus, I don’t even know if it’ll go anywhere. We just kissed is all.”

“Right. Ten bucks says he’ll be professing his love to you by next week.”

“L!” I exclaim, exasperated. “Can you leave me alone? I have work to do.”

But I’m distracted all day with thoughts of Brian. It was hard to concentrate and I find myself smiling like a fool at my computer screen. I have never felt this way in a very long time about anyone. My last relationship had been such a mess that I almost forgot what it feels like to be… well, smitten, I guess you can call it. I keep thinking about his eyes, and the way his hair curls, his laugh that I rarely hear but makes my stomach do flips. And his kindness… all thoughts of Asshole Neighbour has completely left my mind, and I’m focused on his genuine acts of kindness that has me so… so, I don’t know how to explain it. By the end of the day, I’m looking at the time every minute, excited to see Brian again. I feel like a high school girl. This is ridiculous. I shake my head at myself, but my excitement wins over.

When I get home, he’s waiting for me on the porch, Bronx’s head resting on his lap. I can see he’s on his cellphone and from the look of his face I know the conversation is heated and serious. He catches my eye, immediately shuts the phone off, and stands slowly as I reach the walkway. His eyes are dark and his jaw is tight, not the Nice Brian from this morning.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet, low.

“Hi,” I reply, trying to keep my voice positive and steady.

“Listen, I’ve gotta run. I have some stuff to take care of in Calgary.” I can’t help the disappointment that swells in my chest.

“Ok,” I say and lean down to pet Bronx. “Have a safe drive.”

His reply was a small nod and I frown when he walks away, almost sprinting across the street to his house. What was that about? I sigh and walk up the porch steps and into the house. What a difference a few hours can make. But, I guess, that’s mercurial Brian for you.

By dinnertime, the kids in the neighbourhood are out in their costumes and I’m standing by my door handing out the fudge treats. They’re a hit and a few kids come back for seconds. Bronx stands guard at the window, tail wagging and ears alert.

“Bye, Ms. London!” a little girl in a bumblebee costume shouts as she bounds down the walkway.

“See you in snowboarding class, Tanya,” I call back and smile as she waves.

By the end of the night, I still have a bit of fudge left even though I start giving them out by the handfuls. I sit on the couch, chewing on one and waiting to see if any more kids come. My doorbell stays silent and I stand up to turn the porch lights off and turn in for the night. As I do, I see some movement across the street. It’s Brian and he’s walking up his walkway, head down and hood up. He disappears into his house and the main floor light flickers on. Biting my lip, I look at the bowl of fudge and reminisce about last night. Feeling resolved, I take the bowl and head out the door. Bronx stands to alert and watches me from the window as I stroll down the street.

He opens the door on the first ring and a look of surprise crosses his face when he sees me. “London.”

He holds the door open for me and I step in. My eyes graze the entryway and the living room. There’s a large dark brown L-shaped leather couch in front of the fireplace, a big screen TV, and a glass coffee table on top of a white faux-fur rug. Everything looks so cozy; he’s definitely made a home out of the place.

“I had some fudge left over,” I explain and his eyes move to the bowl in my hands. “I know how much you like them, so I brought them over for you.” A look that I can’t place crosses his face and he takes the bowl from me, setting it on a side table near the entryway.

“That’s very nice of you,” he murmurs and I hold my breath as he steps closer to me. “How was it tonight?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist. I let my breath go as a sigh of a relief. Nice Brian is back. I breathe in again; he smells musky, sweet, and like ocean scented body wash.

“Good, the kids loved it as usual.”

He looks me in the eye for a few seconds and then captures my lips in his. It’s an aggressive kiss, one that I hadn’t expected but I respond eagerly. His tongue is in my mouth, hungry, longing and his hands are everywhere.

“God, London,” he breathes in between kisses and his mouth moves to my neck. The feeling vibrates to my groin and I let out a soft moan.

Picking me up and wrapping my legs around him, he strides over to the couch where he places me. He’s standing over me now, gazing down, blue eyes burning with desire. He strips his hoody off, throwing it to the floor and leans down to capture my lips again. He’s in a white t-shirt now and I run my hands over his biceps, across his chiseled chest and to his abdomen. He groans in response and deepens the kiss.

Then, before I could grasp what was happening, I feel him tense and then stand bolt upright. A look of confusion replaces the want in my eyes and I look up at him, lost. “Brian?”

“I can’t-“ he runs his hands through his hair. “No, no. Leave, London, I want you to leave.”

What? My heart constricts and I know my eyes give away the hurt from his words. “Brian, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “This is wrong,” he says and grabs his hoody, hastily putting it back on. “You need to leave, London. We cant… us- no this can’t happen.”

What’s up with him? Why the sudden mood change? “Brian, whatever it is, you can tell me-“

“London!” he shouts, frustration and anger etched on his face. “Leave, just go!” My mouth drops open and I gasp. He takes a deep breath and, a bit more calmly, but still with a menacing tone in his voice, he says, “Whatever it is you think you owe me, forget it. I saved your dog, it’s doesn’t matter. I don’t need your payback. I wasn’t even thinking of it, I just thought I needed the company.”

Ouch. That stung. I glare at him for a few seconds; hazel eyes into deep blue. For that one moment, I hate him. I’m hurt and I can feel my face red with humiliation. The lump in my throat is growing and all I can do is nod. With a heavy heart, I turn around, walk out the door, and shut it with a deafening click behind me.