“ARE YOU BLOODY KIDDING ME?!” The shout echoes around the street below me. “SHE COULD’VE DIED!”
I watch out of my window as my neighbor paces up and down in front of our building, talking animatedly on the phone. His large biceps flex under his shirt as he tugs hard at his hair. He looks like he’s having some kind of mental breakdown.
My best friend Benny leans over me to get a better view. “Jesus. What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur, squinting against the sun. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”
Benny snorts. “Yeah, because you know him so well. Have you ever actually spoken to the guy? Do you even know his name?”
“Yeah,” I say defensively. “It’s Jack.” I’m on the fourth floor, so I’m looking down at him, but I could recognise Jack’s broad shoulders and bright blonde hair anywhere. “And I know him pretty well,” I add stubbornly. Benny huffs a laugh.
Which is probably fair. Technically, I’ve only spoken to Jack once. But I still know plenty about him.
I know he lives on the fifth floor, in the apartment right above mine. I know he has two unnaturally attractive roommates. I know that whenever I’ve bumped into him, he’s seemed sweet and a little shy. I’ve certainly never heard him shout before.
“WHY WOULDN’T YOU TELL US?” Jack’s frustrated bellow floats up through the afternoon air. A few pigeons toddling across the street scatter in fear. “WHAT THE HELL DO WE DO NOW? NONE OF US KNOW HOW TO LOOK AFTER HER! I… hello? Hello?” He stares at the dead phone screen, then slumps down on the building’s steps, defeated.
I twist my fingers together, concern tugging at me. “It sounds like something’s really wrong. Maybe he needs help.”
“Perfect.” Benny reaches over me and flips the latch on my window. “Now you finally have an excuse to speak to him.” He shoves the window open, and I grab his arm, yanking him back.
“What are you doing?!” I hiss, horrified. “I can’t shout at him from a window! That’s so creepy!”
“Right. Watching him silently from afar is so much more normal.” Benny looks exasperated. “For God’s sake, you’ve been stalking this guy for two years. Just talk to him, Beth. It’s not that hard.”
I pull a face. That’s easy for him to say. Benny is gorgeous: tall and brown-skinned, with a head full of wild curls and muscled arms covered with colourful tattoos. No man or woman can resist him, and he knows it.
On the other hand, I’m tiny, so pale I reflect sunlight, and covered in so many freckles that in the summer they all blob together. Standing next to Benny, I look like an anemic ginger goblin. There is no way I’m marching upstairs to hit on my absurdly hot neighbor. I’m perfectly happy admiring him from afar.
Benny’s phone suddenly dings, and he sighs, checking the screen. “Shit. I’ve got to go.”
“Another date?”
He shakes his head. “Going out with mum and dad. We’ve got a family dinner.” He rolls his eyes. “One of the foster kids passed their violin recital, or something.”
I smile, my expression a little brittle. “Okay. Say hi to Jane and Paul for me.”
He gives me a sympathetic look.
Jane and Paul are my old foster parents, and Benny’s adoptive parents. Benny and I met when they fostered us both as teenagers. They kept us for almost a year before booting me back to the group home and adopting him.
I don’t usually keep in touch with old foster families—hurts way too much—but Benny point-blank refused to be ghosted. Now, ten years later, he has morphed from an ex-foster brother to a best friend. He’s the closest thing I have to a family.
“Tell you what.” He claps me on the back and stands, pocketing his keys. “I’ll buy you a pizza if you grow some balls and talk to Jake.”
“Jack. And I don’t want to talk to him.” I turn pointedly back to my open laptop. “I have work to do.”
Benny ignores my hint. “Please. You’ve fancied him since the day you moved into the building.”
“I have not. You know I don’t date.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t fancy the man.” He holds up his phone. “I have the drunk texts to prove it. You want me to read them to you? They’re pretty embarrassing.” He starts scrolling through our text thread threateningly. “Saw Blonde God when I was taking out the trash tonight,” he reads aloud. “He’s so cute. Heart emoji.”
My mouth falls open. “I didn’t say that.”
“Oh, but you did. I think this is the night you took six shots of tequila and spilled hummus all over your carpet.” He scrolls down. “You also said I swear his jawline is like, ninety degrees and omg he’s utterly flawless.” I try to swipe at him. He dodges out of the way. “Well, almost flawless. He has a really cute birthmark shaped like a fish on the back of his neck. God, I don’t even want to know how you got close enough to see his birthmarks. Do you have binoculars stashed away somewhere?”
I shove him away from the desk. “Didn’t you say you had to leave? Feel free to do that. Right now.”
He laughs, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, okay? Good luck with the job hunt. Love you.”
“Bye,” I call, and he blows me a kiss, slamming out of the flat. As his footsteps echo down the corridor, I sag back in my desk chair, spinning to look out of the window again. Jack is still slumped on the steps, his head in his hands. Worry twinges in me.
Tragically, Benny is right. I’ve been secretly crushing on Jack ever since I moved into this building. The sad part is, I’ve only ever talked to him once, on the day I moved in. I was trying to drag two giant suitcases into the lift, and Jack spotted me struggling. He bent down and picked them both up like they weighed nothing, his blue eyes shy behind his hipster glasses. I was immediately smitten.
Ever since then, he’s smiled at me a couple of times while we were waiting for the lifts or checking our mailboxes, but that’s been the full extent of our interactions. I don’t think he even knows my name.
As I watch, Jack stands, hanging his head, and climbs back up the steps into the building. I wait for him to disappear, then sigh, turning my attention back to the job listing site I’ve been crawling for the past three hours. I need to concentrate.
I’ve been unemployed for almost a full year now, ever since my old nannying agency went bust last summer. At first, I wasn’t too worried; I was sure I had enough savings to last until I found my next job. London is full of busy, professional parents. How hard can it really be to find a nannying gig?
Very hard, it turns out. I’ve applied to over a hundred positions over the past year, with no luck at all. My savings ran out, and then so did my overdraft. And now I’m about two weeks from becoming homeless. My eyes drop to the pile of bills stacked on the corner of my desk. It’s getting dangerously tall.
Anxiety crunches my stomach. Taking a deep breath, I open a new browser tab and type in the name of another job site, widening my search options. I’ll take anything at this point. Hazardous waste removal. Toilet cleaning. Filling out online surveys. I’m seriously desperate.
I’ve been steadily scrolling through listings for about fifteen minutes, when I’m interrupted by a knock on my door. I frown, looking up from my computer.
No one ever knocks at my door. I like to keep to myself. Benny is pretty much my only friend, and he had his own key made, so he usually just barges in.
“Bethany,” a low voice calls outside. “Um, Bethany Ellis? Are you in there? It’s Jack. I live above you, in apartment 5A.”
I go still.
“You, uh, might not know who I am,” he continues, his voice muffled by the wood, “but me and my flatmates have run into a bit of a problem. We could really use a hand, if you’re in there.”
