Chapter Two: Harper
About a month later, just after Thanksgiving, I start to open all the boxes of Christmas decorations I’ve been hoarding for years. With just a week before December starts, I have to get busy. I lay everything out, organizing by type and color, and begin hanging ornaments on the gorgeous tree my family bought me as a housewarming gift. Christmas music fills my home, and I sing along enjoying every moment of this. I'm in my own house decorating my own tree. It's all mine. I don't have to compromise with anyone or change the colors or listen to something else. Even though he gave me my space as much as he could, after five years of staying with dad, my freedom feels even sweeter than it did when I moved out the first time. Unlike then, I can stand on my own two feet, thanks in large part to dad letting me live rent-free.
Happy as I am to be here now, those years with dad were important. No one could have predicted the hell he would go through or how close he was to giving up. I hate to think what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been there to pull him back. I shake my head to clear the sad thoughts away and immerse myself once again in my decorating.
~~~
The next morning, I open my door to leave for work at the exact same time as Mr. Sexy. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him for more than a few seconds, and after our last interaction, I’m not really sure how to address him, so I quickly adjust the wreath on my front door to avoid eye contact. He stomps past me without a word. I turn and watch him slide into the seat of his car. When he starts it, a little thrill runs down my back. It sounds as sexy as it looks. I wish it didn’t have that effect on me. It’s so cliché. It’s the reason men like him buy cars like that. Clearly, it works.
After he pulls out of the drive, I make my way over to my sweet but humble sedan. It's boring, but it gets the job done. As I back out of the drive, I study the front of my house. I need to get to decorating the outside. I’m sure Mr. Sexy will just love that. I smile and sing along to Frosty the Snowman.
~~~
As I sit on the couch flipping through channels, I’m startled by loud knocking on my door. I stand up and walk over, opening the door to see Mr. Sexy. He looks completely pissed as usual.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?”
He glares in response holding out a stack of envelopes. "Apparently the mailperson can't read, and I’ve been getting your mail. Assuming you are Harper Rose of course.”
“That’s me.” I take them from him. “I was wondering why I wasn’t getting much mail.”
“You need to fix it and make sure they have your correct address.”
“Gee, is it such a hardship for you to speak to me and give me a few pieces of mail?”
“It is not a hardship. It’s just ridiculous as I’ve lived here for two years. They should know me by now.”
“It’s not my fault they don’t know you.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You’re sure acting like it is.”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
“I beg to differ.” I offer a fake smile. “I’ve lived here over a month, and all you can do is scowl, act put out, and be rude."
He looks at me as though he doesn’t understand what I just said. “Don’t judge me. You don’t even know me.”
“No, I don’t, but based on my interactions with you so far, I don’t want to.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Well don’t let me stop you from leaving.”
He pauses, not saying a word, but staring me down. I’m not even remotely intimidated by him. “You know what else? You play your stupid Christmas music too loud.”
I pull my head back. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. I can hear it through my walls.”
“It’s not loud at all.”
"Well, I hate Christmas music."
“That’s too bad because it’s December so you’ll be hearing it a lot. I love Christmas, and this is my home, so I’ll play music if I want to.”
He exhales slowly as though he’s trying to calm himself down. “Then you won’t mind if I bang on your walls when you annoy me?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“I know that.”
“You know what?” He crosses his arms, glaring at me as I speak. “You’re rude. I don’t like you, and I want you to leave and stop ruining my peaceful Sunday. Goodbye.” I shut the door without another word, but don’t even make it back to my couch before he’s knocking on it again. I stomp back and swing the door open. “What?”
“You make too much noise in the morning.”
“Oh my god. What are you a vampire or something? I know you don’t work at home. I see you leave in the morning. What’s the problem?”
"On the weekends. I like to sleep in, and you're over here hammering and vacuuming and playing your stupid music."
I roll my eyes. “What is an acceptable time of day for you?”
“Nine.”
“Nine!” I shake my head. “Fine, your highness. I’ll wait until nine.”
“Good.”
“What do I get from you?”
“Get?”
“Yeah. I compromised for you. Now you compromise for me.”
“We’re not dating.”
I guffaw. “Clearly. I can only imagine how much fun that would be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“No, say it, Harper.”
“Don’t use my name like we’re friends. We’re not.”
“Cleary. I can only imagine how much fun that would be.”
“Ooh, you’re so annoying.”
He shoots me a sarcastic smile. “Taste of your own medicine.”
“Goodbye.”
I start to shut the door, but he stops it with his hand. “Don’t you want to know my compromise for you?”
“Oh, please tell me.” I roll my eyes. “I’m dying to know.”
“I won’t bang on your wall as long as the music stops by eight pm.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“Your opinion. Good thing that doesn’t matter to me.”
“Whatever.” I shut the door, leaning against it and listening to his footsteps and the sound of his door. He’s infuriating! He can be as hot as he wants to be but with that cocky, snobby, uptight personality, he can suck it. He can’t possibly have friends or a girlfriend with his terrible disposition. His own mother probably just tolerates him. He’s a freaking Scrooge! Ugh!
After that rude interruption, I walk back to the kitchen and pour another cup of coffee now that mine has cooled. I just don't get how someone can be so hostile to someone they don't even know over something like mail and Christmas music. Over everything really. How miserable it must be to wake up every day pissed off at the world. He’s going to love it when I have my Christmas party.
As I sip my coffee, I imagine his life for a minute. I see him leave for work and runs, but never anything that looks social. He’s always home at night. Didn’t go anywhere last night. No company. My instinct about him was right. He hates people.
My phone ringing shakes me from my thoughts. I see Elise’s name on the screen.
“Hey, sis.”
“Hey. Want to go shopping today?”
“For?”
Elise laughs. “For? Christmas dresses, of course. We’re dressing up right?”
I laugh softly. “Right. Yeah, that sounds fun. What time?”
“I’ll be there in an hour. We’ll hit the mall as soon as it opens.”
“Cool.”
“Anymore hot neighbor sightings?”
“Oh yeah. He’s a dick, Elise. He’s so mean. Every interaction. He’s just rude.”
“Really? That sucks. Wonder why?”
“Don’t know. He said he hates Christmas music. I think he hates the whole holiday.”
She laughs. "This is so funny. You love Christmas more than any person I know, and you moved next door to the Grinch."
“I actually nicknamed him Scrooge.”
"Ooh, I like that. You're Tiny Tim, and he's Scrooge." We both laugh. “Maybe you’ll convert him. Your joy for the season is pretty contagious.”
“The man needs something. He’s always angry.”
“Here I was hoping for a love match.”
“Yeah, no. We’re not going to be anything but neighbors.”
“His loss, sister. See you in an hour?”
“I’ll be ready.”
After a while, I hear my sister’s car in the drive, so I grab my coat and purse and head out to greet her. As I lock my door, Scrooge opens his and steps out looking surprisingly casual in jeans, sneakers, a gray sweater, and a jacket. He looks at me, holding my gaze, and I realize his eyes match the cloudy gray-blue sky above us. He’s so handsome I almost forget what a complete asshat he is. I refuse to speak first as we both stare each other down. Finally, he just walks away without a word. I watch as he leaves while I walk to my sister’s car.
“What was that about?” she asks as I get in.
“Beats me. He just stared at me without saying anything.”
“Weird.”
“Yeah. It would be a lot easier to hate him if he wasn’t so unbelievable looking.”
“Looks aren’t everything.”
“True. He’s proof.”
"Forget him. Shopping and girl time awaits. Screw Mr. Scrooge!"
I laugh and high five my sister. “I can get on board with that.”