Where Promises Must Glide

03 - Juliette

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I never got the new neighbors name.

But Donna would somehow find it. The platinum blonde up the road—who used way to much box dye than the average consumer—had the latest and greatest gossip for anyone.

When I got home from practice, with a giddy Ophelia begging for her friend to come over, I noticed that the neighbor was home. I made a shit ton of cookies and needed someone to feed them to. Just neighborly duties as the best neighbor a person could have.

It's a normal thing I've done since moving in two years ago. When Mrs. Somerhold moved into the house up the road, we all threw her a house warming barbecue. Similar with the Gonzalez family. We all made a different dessert and had a pool party for the kids—the usual suburban living situation.

This new guy was different though. No family, or so I believed since I may have stalked a little—peeping while the moving trucks were still here. Yes, I understood the stalkerish activities I had, but I liked to pay attention to detail so it could spare me from asking.

They moved one mattress, no children's furniture or kids playing in the front yard at all. I wasn't going to make big assumptions yet, since he's only been here for a day.

When I got back to my house, I noticed one of the neighboring kids playing dolls with Ophelia. "Hey Philly," I announced. Along with Ophelia and her friend was my mom, who I begged to babysit for the weekend since I had a smaller overnight competition out of town. No matter how small or big the competition was, I needed as much recognition and titles under my name for when I go for state or the Olympics.

"Hi mommy!" Ophelia ran over, her friend—Oscar—trailing behind. There little footsteps cluttered the polished wood, which I could see snow and dirt prints from both of the kids boots.

I frowned at the prints, but didn't say anything in front of the kids, no need—I'll just clean it later. "How was the new neighbor?" Ophelia asked, Oscar nodding right behind her. Apparently everyone was curious who would move into the Morisons old home.

"Very nice," I choke out, remembering the man and his funny attempts to flirt—or that's what I think he was doing. God, what if he wasn't flirting and I was just so full of myself.

"That's good mommy," she gave me a knowing grin. "He better be nice to my mommy, or I will cut off his finger." She crossed her arms, acting all tough. I couldn't contain my laughter at her cute attempts.

I turned to my mom, who had her hands in the air. "Apparently grandmas had been playing Goodfellas on repeat a little to many times." My mom laughed along, but Ophelia was mad I wasn't taking her fight face seriously.

"I mean it mommy, no one messes with you. Or I will. . . I will. . . blow up their car!" Her tiny lips left the pout and went straight to a bad attempt at a smirk.

But when she—tried—to smirk, all I could be reminded of was the neighbor. The man who I didn't even know his name, but that smirk he wore was flashing in my mind like strobe lights. The way he leaned against the door. Tight black turtle neck looking sexier than necessary. Why were all the hot dudes in turtle necks.

Fuck. I can't lie and say he wasn't handsome. But my three year old daughter definitely didn't need to hear this. Especially not in front of her friend, or my mother—who is still adjusting with the break up even after two years.

"Julie," my mother calls out, hearing my nickname I leave the two kids and walk over to her. "Your face is really red and I have only seen that face twice. When you have chicken pox, and when Isaiah asked you to Prom." She gave a fringed smile, the memory of my ex was still a sore topic for her, even though I moved on faster than she did. Which still makes me laugh.

"Gosh mom," I groan, whining like a teenage girl.

My mother laughs. "Spill, who is he, is he handsome, and do I have to worry that he will knock you up at nineteen then leave you broken and sad."

"Oh my god! Mom!" I scream, laughing at her finally making light of my past. I let out a deep sigh, not sure how to talk about the man I met for less than five minutes. "He is nobody, just an attractive man. Barely even talked."

My mom waves her hand. "Pff, that's the exact way I met your father. No such thing as someone being a 'nobody' especially if they have my daughter blushing like that." She pointed to my crimson stained cheeks.

Was it really that bad?

"Mom I'm a big girl now, I don't need dating advice," I laugh, my mother not so much.

"But your still that six year old girl who refused to wear anything but your fathers flannels and my old rock t-shirts." She wiped a lose tear, speaking of the past. I smiled, remembering the memories. I wondered if I'd get to recreate moments like that with Ophelia.

"We cannot get sentimental and not have wine, so pour me a glass before you bring up the past," I giggle, going to my cabinets, grabbing two glasses while my mom grabbed the wine.

"So how's dad?" I change the subject, needing to think of anything but the new neighbor—who conveniently lived right next to me. I wondered which window would be his? If he was the type of guy to walk around shirtless all the time. My bathroom faced that house, so I had to make sure my windows were closed all the time—even though secretly I didn't want to. I sounded like an idiotic teenager with a boy-next-door type crush.

"So the doctors said that he could lay off some of the medicine," my mother was talking. This entire time. And I wasn't paying attention.

"That's. . . that is really good mom." I tried to sound attentive, look as if I was listening. Fantasizing about a man shirtless was not the thing to be thinking about while my mother discussed my fathers medical health.

"Yeah, I'm happy that the exercises and stuff have been working," my mom explains. Couple months ago, my father had a horrible stroke. The right side of his body stopped working all together, and he lost his mobility in his legs. He has been relearning to walk, and it has been hard on the both of them.

My parents had me at an old age. Unable to get pregnant for the longest time, finally my mother had her first child at the ripe age of 35, and no more kids after that. My father, being five years older than her, was already the same age as some of my friends grandparents when I was in middle school. But I didn't care, everything was normal, because they were the best parents a girl could ask for.

"Ophelia has been very invested in her little buddy," my mom smirks, pointing to Oscar and her playing with the toys.

"Mom they are just kids!" I counteracted.

"That's what your father said about you and Isiah." There it is again, bringing him up for like the third time in this one conversation. My mother was more heartbroken about the break up than I was, probably the pregnancy hormones made me want to choke him more than cry about it. But now, it hurts to know that my daughter doesn't have a father figure in her life. I still make an attempt to make up for the missing parents.

I gulped down the wine, taking another pour of it. "Don't want to get drunk before your competition tomorrow, Julie." My mother reminds me, a stern look on her eyes. Instead, i simply took another gulp of the wine, finishing it in one swig.

"We'd need a whole bottle for that," I mutter, pouring one final glass, this time sipping it like a civilized person.

I still had a batch of stress baked cookies, the usual thing I do a day or two before a competition. I took one of the cookies, the same one I gave to the neighbor, and chewed on it along with sips of my wine.

All I wanted was to fall asleep remembering his horrible attempts at flirting which made him extra cuter and hotter and all of the above. And his smirk, I wanted to remember that. Maybe I needed another glass of wine.

Very boring chapter tbh. Sorry my loves, but I wanted to give you and update anyways because ya girl is about to be stressed out next week (finals week 🤪) and is trying to update as much as possible.

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