CHAPTER ONE
Sam peered out the window and narrowed his eyes. “Who moves house on a Wednesday?”
“What?” Dave glanced up from his phone and followed Sam’s line of sight. “You never told me you were getting new neighbours.”
“I only found out last weekend. They didn’t have a sign up or anything. Said they were letting it to a friend of theirs or something like that. I wasn’t paying all that much attention.” Sam took his tea and walked into the living room to get a better view. His ground-floor flat faced the road, and his new neighbours were moving into the one right next door.
“God, you’re so bloody nosy.” Dave moved to stand beside him, and Sam gave him a pointed look, which he ignored.
“I’m interested in who’ll be living next door to me. That’s all.”
Dave rolled his eyes. “Then maybe you could go out and introduce yourself instead of spying on them from behind the curtains.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Sam sipped his tea and continued to watch the back of the van for signs of movement. The doors were open, but no one had come or gone in the last few minutes. “Anyway, I want to suss out what sort of people they are before I go introducing myself.”
“And how are you going to do that skulking in here?” Dave shook his head and moved to sit on the sofa. “At least come and sit down.” When Sam didn’t budge, he added with a sigh, “You still have a pretty good view from here, and you’ll look less like a creep if they see you.”
He made a good point.
Assuming the people moving in were decent types, Sam didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot.
Dave grinned as Sam walked over and sat next to him.
“Oh, shut up.” Sam set his mug down on the coffee table as movement near the front of the building caught his eye. He nudged Dave, narrowly avoiding spilling his tea. “Look, here they come.”
Sam’s living room had French doors that opened out onto the grass surrounding the building. An iron railing atop a low brick wall separated the grass from the pavement. All in all, the road was about twelve feet from his living room window, and with the van parked just a little way down the road, they had a pretty good view.
Two guys walked towards the open rear doors, both dressed in jeans and T-shirts. “It’s bloody November, not June,” Sam muttered, his gaze catching on the way their muscles bunched as they lifted what looked to be a double bed base from the back of the van.
“I imagine moving all that stuff would make you hot.”
Sam grinned against his mug as he took another sip of tea. “Pretty sure they’d be hot no matter what they were doing.”
Dave gave them another look, and Sam caught the way his lips curved up into a smile. “True.”
For the next twenty minutes, they sat in companionable silence, watching the two guys unload the rest of the van.
“D’you think they’re together?” Sam asked, finally. His mind conjured up a few choice images.
“I don’t know. Could be brothers or best mates?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
They’d finished moving stuff by the looks of things, shutting the van doors and turning to face each other. One scuffed his shoes on the pavement while the other ran a hand through his hair. Even from where he and Dave sat, you could see the tension crackle between them, and Sam wondered if they were going to kiss out there on the street. In the end, they went in for a hug that lasted longer than Sam figured a friends-only hug would, and Dave seemed to agree.
“More than friends, I’d say. Or were at any rate.” Dave sat forward, eyebrows scrunching together. “Hey, does he look familiar to you?”
Sam sat up a little straighter and set his mug down. “Which one?” The guys were a similar height and built, but one was dark-haired, the other blond. Neither looked all that familiar. Although…
“The dark-haired one. I know him from somewhere.”
“Now that you mention it.” Sam sat forward as well to get a better look. He hadn’t seen it at first, but now Dave had pointed it out, he did look faintly familiar. “Can’t think where I’ve seen him though.”
“No. Me neither.”
Blond guy drove off in the van and dark-haired guy turned and went back inside his flat.
Dave slumped back against the sofa now they had nothing else to look at. “That’s going to bug the shit out of me now.” He sighed and glanced out the window again.
Sam patted his leg, then stood. “Come on, let’s go and get some lunch. I’ll go say hi later, give him time to get sorted. Maybe a name’ll jog your memory.”
Dave shot him a look, eyebrow raised. “Oh, so now you’ve sussed him out as acceptable, have you? After watching him unload a van?”
“He seems okay.”
“Yeah, right.” Dave gave him a light shove as he stood. “It’s got nothing to do with the fact that you think he’s hot.”
Sam shrugged but couldn’t keep a straight face. “Just being a good neighbour.”
“Of course you are.” He gestured for Sam to lead the way and followed him towards the door. “Let’s hope he didn’t catch you watching, or that’s going to be an awkward introduction.”
“Nah.” Sam waved him away. “He didn’t look this way once.”
As soon as they got outside, the cold hit them, and Sam pointed to the car park, all thoughts of his new neighbour forgotten. “Walk or drive?”
Dave shivered. “Drive. Then you can pop to Ikea afterwards and pick up that wardrobe you wanted.”
“Yeah, okay.”
They hurried round the side of the building and Sam quickly unlocked his van. He’d only got as far as pulling out onto the main road when Dave snapped his fingers and said, “School!”
Sam glanced at him, confused. “What?”
“That’s where we know him from.”
He felt Dave’s gaze on him, and when he glanced over again, Dave had an expectant look on his face.
Laughing, Sam shook his head. “I still have no idea who it is. You’ll have to give me more than just school.”
Dave grinned back at him. “You’re not going to like it.”
Sam frowned, casting back through his memories from school. He’d managed to go through secondary school relatively unscathed—hadn’t been in any serious trouble and got on with most people. “Nope, still can’t—” He cut himself off as the thought hit him. They stopped at the traffic lights, and he turned to Dave. “No. Can’t be.” But even as he said the words, he knew in the back of his mind that it bloody well was.
“Yep. The guy you were just drooling over is none other than Charles Whitmore.”
Sam groaned, and Dave laughed again.
Wanker Whitmore.
His new hot neighbour was the one person he’d hated at school. Well, maybe not hated, exactly, but the guy had been a colossal knob. “Fuck.”
“Still gonna go round later to say hi?” Dave prodded him in the ribs when Sam ignored him. “He’s aged well, you’ve got to give him that.”
“Still doesn’t change the fact that he beat up Nigel Watts. For no fucking reason. He ended up in A&E!” The age-old indignation flared easily back to the surface, and with it came the disgust Sam had felt at the time. “The only reason Nige didn’t press charges was because Whitmore threatened to do it again if he did. Nige was terrified of him, made me promise not to tell anyone.” He’d only told Dave a couple of years later when they were drunk one night.
Some of the amusement faded from Dave’s expression. “That was years ago, mate. And I always said you should take what Nige told you with a pinch of salt. Besides, I’m sure Charlie’s changed since school. God knows we have.”
Maybe, maybe not. Sam didn’t really give a shit. “I’m not bothered whether he has or hasn’t changed. I’m not interested in getting to know him, and I won’t be going round to say hi anytime soon.” Whether Nigel massaged the truth or not, he’d been a right mess. There was no making that up.
Thankfully they were almost at the pub and Dave let the subject drop.
SAM MANAGED TO avoid thinking about his new neighbour right up until he and Dave pulled back into the car park behind Sam’s flat. The look on his face must’ve given him away, because Dave nudged him with his shoulder.
“Chances are you’ll hardly see him.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “We literally live next door to each other. I’m going to bump into him at some point.”
“He might not recognise you. Might not remember who you are.”
“Mm.” Sam couldn’t decide if that made him happy or not. Which was ridiculous. Why should he care whether some twat from school remembered him or not? But a tiny piece of him wanted Whitmore to remember him. Just like he remembered Whitmore. Eventually anyway.
“Come on. If you want a hand putting that new wardrobe together, then we need to start now. I promised my mum I’d be there before six.”
Sam could manage on his own, but with two of them, they’d get it done so much quicker. He nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
Between them, they carried all the boxes inside and into Sam’s flat. With his old wardrobe long gone and Sam’s bedroom tidy for once, they had a nice space to work in.
Dave looked down at the boxes stacked on the carpet. “You go put the kettle on and I’ll start unpacking this lot.”
Waving a hand towards the hall, Sam said, “Chuck all the rubbish out there; it’s bin day tomorrow. I’ll just stick the cardboard out for recycling.”
“Will do.”
He left Dave to it and headed to the kitchen. Despite his resolution not to, Sam couldn’t resist a glance out his window. Not that he could see any of next-door’s flat from there, but maybe hot van guy had come back.
I can still ogle him.
Unfortunately, the van was nowhere to be seen, but as Sam leaned against the counter, waiting for the kettle to boil, he noticed a dark blue Fiesta pull up outside. Interest piqued, he watched as a woman—probably around his mum’s age—got out and waved at someone Sam couldn’t see.
He figured it was probably Whitmore’s mum, and sure enough, the man himself appeared a few seconds later. They hugged, and then his mum went to open the back door of the car.
“You making a cuppa or what?” Dave appeared in the kitchen doorway, took one look at Sam, and sighed. “Really?”
“What? I was waiting for the kettle.” He flicked it on again, realising he’d totally missed it boiling before, and leaned back against the worktop. Dave just shook his head but reached up to get two mugs out of the cupboard. “His mum just arrived.”
“How do you know it’s his mum?”
Sam shrugged. “She looks like a mum.” He turned back to the window in time to see Whitmore duck into the back of the car and then come out holding… “A cat.”
“Hmm?”
“He’s got a fucking cat.” Because of course he did.
Dave laughed, the bastard. “Oh, come on, there’s nothing wrong with cats. I don’t know why you’re so against them.”
Sam vividly remembered being terrorised by next-door’s cat when he was about seven. The thing used to wait for him behind the wheelie bin and jump out when he walked past. “I’m more of a dog person.”
The raised eyebrow he got in response was as good as a “Bollocks are you,” but Sam ignored it. Instead, he watched Whitmore lift the basket to eye level and start talking to the cat inside it. Idiot.
“As long as he keeps it away from me, that’s all I care about.”
He poured up two teas and, with a last look at the now empty street, followed Dave into his bedroom to get started on that wardrobe.