Chapter Text
July 23, 2042
12:00 PM
The Shores Apartment Building
Santa Monica, CA
Lyre couldn't help herself. Curiosity always won when it came down to a wrestling match between it and common sense. Better judgement didn’t always apply and she was fully aware that one day her curious nature would get her in deep, deep trouble. But, as far as she was concerned today was not the day curiosity killed the cat. She really hated that phrase, but it unfortunately applied all too well.
Today in fact, she was feeling quite lucky, downright untouchable. So why not push her luck a little? Lyre liked to gamble and Vegas was a long ways away. Lucky. That was an entirely new sense of being all together for Lyre. Things in her life were finally at a positive turning point, or at least that what she told herself every morning in the mirror.
Lyre couldn’t really argue with the facts though. Her job performance and gritty perseverance at the biotech lab run by the equally illustrious and shady Icarus Corporation had finally earned her a new promotion. Her boss actually taking note of her innovation and tenacity, had recommended Lyre personally to head up network security at the laboratory where she’d spent the last year trying her best to stand out in a crowd full of geniuses. She was most certainly not a programming genius, so when the promotion came, she nearly laughed before she realized they were serious.
On top of work, Lyre’s social life was blossoming into something that a person might consider fulfilling. Friendships were always difficult for Lyre to maintain. She’d done her best to reach out and make herself available and open to new people, new experiences. Introverted at heart, she’d been able to fight the urge to hole up inside her apartment and forge some actual friends with a few of her coworkers.
The cherry on top was a possible slight turn in her romantic endeavors. Her most recent relationship had been a bit of disaster and she’d been reluctant to venture back into the dating scene. Her closest friend was currently playing matchmaker and attempting to set Lyre up on a date with her younger brother. Lyre wasn’t opposed and saw it as an opportunity to maybe shake off her most recent past mistake that had proven to be a walking red flag.
All that good fortune made this little task she created for herself seem like it couldn’t turn out all that bad.
Wasn’t there some cosmic karmactic principle that assured a balance of bullshit to good shit?
Right?
A stray wave of dark hair fell across her face and she quickly tucked it haphazardly back into the messy braid that hung down over her shoulder. Lyre cursed herself slightly, wishing she had just taken the extra second to tie a better braid. This clever and foolish little espionage mission would be much more enjoyable without her hair constantly needing her attention. When she’d heard the next door neighbors door open earlier, Lyre had made the hasty decision that lead to her current situation, not bothering with much in the way of primping and prepping. At least she’d thrown on suitable clothing for sitting in a more semi-public space.
Despite the distraction, Lyre quickly refocused on her computer screen. It would have been more accurate to say she was doing her best to appear to refocus on the her computer screen. She’d had enough gumption to at least pull up her email and an open coding program so the screen didn’t look completely blank. Each time the subject of inquiry, walked by, Lyre figured he would automatically assume she was diligently working and then, of course, pay her no mind. It was the perfect plan. She could spy, snoop and ogle to her hearts content.
Today was Sunday and was also the second day her new neighbor had appeared. Lyre had missed much of his comings and goings the previous day due to work overload, but today, from what she could see, he was still moving. What was strange was the objects he’d used to presumably store his belongings. Large, black and completely unmarked boxes were apparently the man’s choice of packing materials. Oddity number one on her list of things to learn about the new person living beside her.
Who packs boxes and doesn't mark anything on them? Not even a room label… Lyre thought as she typed a few meaningless lines of code in a program she had no intention of actually using.
When she’d moved apartments, she’d made sure every box had labels and designations so as not to complicate the process of unpacking. It seemed absurd not to label your moving boxes. On top of that, the more she stared at the boxes he carried from the elevator to his flat, the more interested Lyre became. Boxes were not the most appropriate term for the objects the new neighbor hauled through his front door. Not from what she was starting to piece together.
Oh and oddity number two, he liked to leave the front door wide open for all the other residents to view should they choose to.
Thinking back to all the moving containers he was lugging back and forth from the elevator, Lyre noted that they were more in line with a particular kind of crate, crates she had some familiarly with.
These were the kind that the tactically inclined and often paranoid individuals seemed to favor when storing their doomsday belongings. Sturdy and protective, these were the type of crates Lyre remembered her father favored when planning and storing items for "the big one" or what ever other iteration of "civil war part two" and “world war three” lingo he liked to use for describing the most definitely incoming apocalypse.
So…is that what this guy is? Was this just another prepper like dad had been? Or something else entirely?
Lyre readjusted herself on the couch. Her cutoff shorts were doing nothing to protect the underside of her legs from sticking to the faux leather sofa. Sweating was unavoidable in this heat and she had to fight the urge to move since it made the worst sound possible.
Looks more like military…
In looking a bit more carefully, the man’s outfit didn’t particularly scream military, at least not like her dad’s clothes had. The new neighbors more likely resembled what Lyre imagined a defense contractor would choose to wear given the lack of typical military insignia and proper color patterns.
Lyre knew military garb like she did her own wardrobe. Her father had been retired Army and he made certain sure she was well versed in identifying friend from foe, or more accurately, noticing any possible threat for when the world eventually spiraled to chaos. He was always going on and on about knowing, understanding the enemy. As his paranoia got worse in the last few years before he passed, he’d made sure teenage Lyre knew exactly what to look for when deciphering a potential threat.
Though much of his advice went in one ear and out the other, Lyre did retain a small amount of his teachings despite her best effort to focus on all the normal teenage things. Paying close attention to detail could and did save lives, and though this was most certainly not a life or death scenario, her skills of observation were coming in handy, even if it was only to satisfy her own personal curiosities.
Besides the tactical style of clothing, the man was covered head to toe in black. From his black tactical pants, black boots and black long sleeve well fitted tee, he didn't seem to care that his appearance might draw eyes or that other colors existed. That little nugget of observational data also stoked Lyre's curiosity. Dressed as he was with broad shoulders and a large frame, he stood out like a dark cloud in an otherwise clear sky. Judging by his height relative to the door frame, Lyre guessed him to be at least six three, maybe four or five.
After he’d re-entered the elevator for the umpteenth time, Lyre made up her mind that he wasn’t be military at least active duty, not with his current hair style anyway. Nearly as long as her own, his hair fell down to just below his shoulders in a smooth black sheet that reflected the light in a way that had her envious of his hair care routine.
Definitely not the standard military buzz cut, though Lyre also knew operators were given slightly more laxity with personal grooming standards. He father had been one such operator and he generally sported a beard and slightly more unkempt hair. But even with the exceptions made for operators, her new neighbors style was pushing it beyond what she assumed was allowed.
Jamming a pen in her mouth to force some of her wandering thoughts to coalesce, Lyre chewed the end for a moment and stared at the nonsense all over the computer screen. She knew chewing on things was a bad habit, one her mother reminded her of countless times. Lyre could hear the voice of her mom telling her of how fucked up her teeth would be and how no one would want a woman with fucked up teeth. Despite that, Lyre chose not to listen to the voice in her heard telling her to stop. It helped her focus and right now, she wanted to puzzle out the occupation of her new neighbor.
So...I’m thinking definitely a private contractor but I'm not ruling out ex-military with a hint of doomsday prepper as a side hustle...she thought.
And he’s certainly not a fan of color.
Mulling these thoughts, Lyre sat back in the well used, well worn loveseat and took a sip her now disgustingly stale, cold coffee. The common area of the seventeenth floor was inviting, having all the luxuries reminiscent of a corporate conference room. The only thing it lacked was decent air flow and better cooling. Though the coastal breeze kept the temperatures from rising too high on most summer days, today was starting off on a trajectory to be particularly hot.
What also didn't help the situation was that she was situated on the highest floor surrounded by beautifully large windows. As nice as they were for viewing the Pacific, they let in tremendous amount of light and heat during the hottest days of the year. Pealing her ass from the faux leather, Lyre adjusted herself in the cushion and typed in “private military contractor” in the browser search bar. Dozens of images and company names, both old and recent popped up on her screen. Wiping her brow, she sighed, wondering if she should go back to her apartment where it was substantially cooler.
Nope…
For science, she'd suck it up. This was of course for science, at least that's what she told herself every time he walked by, his back turned toward her as she listened and watched and waited for him to do anything interesting, gather any new crumb of information about the new bedroom wall sharing buddy.
Lyre hated sharing a bedroom wall with the neighboring tenants. There were always an unavoidable awkwardness when either of them had a companion over for the night. Though Lyre had been single for over a year, her previous neighbor had been anything but. The woman had rich and rewarding sex life from the sounds that rattled the wall on most nights of the week. After the first few nights where music failed to drown out any of the gratuitous moans, Lyre had decided to take up residence on her couch. It was a sleeping arrangement she was prepared to take up again should her new neighbor be as prolific in the bedroom.
Shit...
Ducking back down and pretending to be concerned about what ever imaginary issue she'd conjured was on her screen, Lyre refocused as he came back down the hall, carrying another larger, longer crate into his apartment.
So….he's got a gun or several...another checked box for the military contractor gun toting doomsday prepper…Lyre knew the telltale sign of rifle case without even having to view it up close.
The man emerged from the apartment a moment later, sleeves now rolled up, exposing forearms that were covered in ink. All black line tattoos of many different sizes that faded into a gradient, completely covering the skin underneath in a haze of black shading. He'd also tied his hair half up no doubt feeling the heat of the day beginning to take it's toll. His dark brown eyes focused down the hall, toward the elevator, not even once glancing in her direction. Which in some small part disappointed Lyre. She’d thought surely by now he would have at least made eye contact with her.
That was, until her phone rang with that annoying pop song she'd assigned as her mother's ring tone rang out in the hall like a damn alarm.
Shit... Lyre muttered as she fumbled with the phone before pressing the answer button.
"Hi mom." Lyre said hastily as she immediately turned away so she couldn't see the man turn and look her way. She prayed to what ever deity might be listening that he'd just keep going down the hall and not be as nosy as she currently was being. To her relief, he continued about his business, uninterested in what she was doing or who she was speaking with.
A passing glance was all he offered her. And for Lyre, that was fine. Conversations with her mother were usually a train wreck and the urge to return to the safety of her apartment grew with each passing second.
As she’d expected, her mother’s words were so slurred, Lyre had to pay close attention to decipher exactly what was being said. Immediately Lyre could tell her mother was angry, which wasn’t all that out of the ordinary. It had been over a month since they'd last spoken and that time the conversation had ended in another fight about Lyre’s questionable life decisions. This one would no doubt be the same and Lyre was in no mood to entertain another berating from the mouth of a hypocrite, even if it was her mother.
After Lyre's dad passed in a car accident, her mother had found solace in alcohol and eventually doctor shopped her way into prescription pill dependency. The horrendous addiction had turned their already strained and tenuous relationship into something Lyre struggled to continue to try and maintain. Every time they spoke, their conversation seemed to devolve into how disappointed dad would be she’d dropped out of college or how she’d taken up one dead end job after another, or worse, how she was still single with no prospects at the ripe old age of thirty-one.
Every conversation became even more of a chore rather than a comfort as Lyre felt she was constantly trying to traverse a metaphorical minefield in simply attempting to speak civilly to one another.
“You’re not telling me something. Spit it out. Lyre, you were never good at keeping secrets….” Her slurred voice forced Lyre to take a deep breath and try very hard not to just go off on the woman who’d birthed her. She missed her dad everyday, but in these moments, his absence was especially devastating. Dad had been the glue in the family, he held them all together. Like the frosting of the Oreo, and now, without it, the two cookies just broke each other to pieces whenever they collided.
"No...mom…I’m not hiding anything. I've just been busy with work. I got promoted, remember? I’ve just got more responsibility and less time….And honestly I’ve just not had the energy to rehash all the old shit again…please mom…can we just talk about something else today…" Despite trying her best to defect blame of her lack of communication on her job, she knew even that excuse was becoming overused and stale.
The man walked back down the hall carrying yet stack of large crates on a dolly. Lyre hid her face back down behind her screen, desperately wanting to end the call with her mother before it went where she suspected it was going, where it always went.
“You know Lyre, honey, your dad would be so disappointed that you didn’t take that apprenticeship with the Sawyers’ company. You would have finally had something, been something. ”
Lyre rolled her eyes at that. Money laundering was the correct term for what the Sawyers wanted and Lyre was not about to get wrapped up in their shady business, not for all the money in the world. Moreover, it meant getting back into bed with their dirt bag piece of shit son, heir to the families white-collar crime empire. That asshole was precisely the person she’d been trying to avoid for the past year.
"Mom...can I call you later...I'm in the middle of something important…" Lyre harried the conversation as the man walked by, heading back to the elevator with the empty hand truck, though this time, he managed to catch her wandering eye.
Well fuck…
Lyre smiled a half grin and gave the best little ‘hey’ wave before quickly looking away and instantly regretting not being nearly as smooth or discrete as she’d wished.
"Oh and Brennan called a few weeks ago and..." her mother's voice pulled all her attention right back to the present like a black hole sucking in a dying star, as Lyre felt her stomach drop at hearing the name.
Brennan Sawyer, crown prince of the Sawyer family, full blown narcissistic piece of garbage and her ex.
"What?" Lyre cut off whatever else she was about to say, trying desperately hard not to hyperventilate.
"He did, he's been looking for you. Oh honey, why did you ever break up? He was such a nice man, lots of money too. You could have been someone with his connections and..."
Lyre had met Brennan while at Berkeley during her undergrad and they hit it off. She’d been so enamored with the rich, clean cut, good looking guy who’d taken an interest in her, that she overlooked so, so very many red flags. It wasn’t until she ended up in the hospital for the third time that Lyre had had enough of his bullshit. Of course to Brennan, she was just a peasant, a toy to use, to break and to throw away.
All the money in the would would not be enough to convince her to give him a second chance.
To be fair, her mother never knew the dirty truth of her and Brennan’s relationship because Lyre had been so embarrassed by her own failure to recognize what Bren had been, what he still was, until it was far too late. Remembering she had the power, the control to end the conversation, Lyre collected herself. For her own sanity, decided she didn’t want to continue down this well trodden path.
"Mom, I'm sorry. I have to go. I’ll call you soon." Lyre hung up before he mother had a chance to argue. Guilt filled her, sadness at the nature of their relationship.
Footsteps drew her attention back once again to the neighbor and she hoped he’d not noticed the change in demeanor or tone during the phone call. If he did, he made no indication as he headed back in the direction of the elevator, only this time she noted he was more focused on his own phone as he moved.
Sighing when he was out of ear shot, Lyre ran her hand through her hair, dislodging a few strands from the braid and shut her laptop. Hearing Bren’s name had put her instantly in a sour mood. She hoped the asshole didn’t know she’d moved to Los Angeles County, hoped he never figured out where she lived. Brennan had so many connections, it was a wonder that he hadn’t found her yet. It was a miracle actually.
Lyre just knew that he would have taken personal offense when she’d packed up and disappeared one day, gone without a trace, without a word or goodbye. Another thing she knew for certain was that he hated being on the losing end of relationships, romantic or otherwise. For Brennan, it was all about control. He called the shots, he did the breakups and he decided when and where things started or ended.
Hell, Lyre hadn’t even told her mother she’d moved to SoCal until nearly three weeks after she’d fled. Bren was not the kind of man who’d appreciate being ghosted by a woman. He took it far to personally as it hurt his fragile ego, especially knowing a gutter rat such as herself would dare dismiss a high class, high value man such as himself. Bren really enjoyed the class difference between them, almost like he was doing a her a huge favor by even associating with her let alone sharing a bed.
The silence in the small common area was a bit unnerving as Lyre came back to the present, remembered what exactly it was she’d been up to before her mother had decided to remind her of a particular unpleasant part of her past.
Casting her eyes about, Lyre knew her scheme of sitting, pretending to work to spy on her new neighbor had run it's course. It was time to pack up and get back to her life, after all, she did have real work to do. Tomorrow was Monday and she was expected back at Icarus Labs for more network security testing. Icarus’s previous IT administrator had gone and fucked the whole system up and it was now Lyre’s job to untangle every single faulty line of code and find every missing subroutine that he’d touched.
Well…this has been fun but…
Glancing at the direction of her door, and of course his, she couldn’t help but stare a moment too long. Her mind wandered into dangerous territory as she saw a chance to take one more little risk for the day.
Just one peak… she thought as she spied his still open door.
Moving as fast as her pride would allow, Lyre gathered up her things in her arms and quickly made her way to the open door of his apartment. It wasn’t far from her own, so in theory, it wasn’t like she was going completely out of her way to take a small peak inside.
I mean, it's wide open... she thought as she cautiously poked her inside the dark space.
Though she was half tempted to take a few steps inside, she wasn’t stupid enough to actually attempt such a thing. Scanning the flat she was treated to a lot of nothing, just stacked crates, all of which she’d seen him carry in over the course of the afternoon. The layout was very similar, aside from the larger living room and what appeared to be a much more spacious dining area.
Ridiculously more spacious than hers actually, which instantly put a frown on her face as she continued her scan of his belongings and the rooms that she could see from where she stood just barely inside the threshold of the door.
Damn... his flat is way bigger than mine.
She crinkled her nose at that observation. Lyre was now very certain she was being ripped off by her landlord since she knew how just much his apartment had leased for and just how much more spacious the interior was. These beachside apartments were hard to come by and didn’t come cheap, but for what she paid, Lyre expected far more.
At a glance, there didn't seem to be much in the way of furniture, but perhaps the larger items were coming later. To be fair, when she’d moved in to this current apartment, she’d purchased all new pieces of furniture. Large items were a pain in the ass to move and Lyre had moved enough times over the past year to know sometimes it was easier just to put them on credit and start over.
Plus, she’d been finally making decent money at Icarus and could afford a few nicer pieces than what she’d originally purchased second hand when she’d moved to Santa Monica.
I just want to see his kitchen…
Lyre risked leaning in a little further, craning her neck just past the threshold in an attempt to get a better look inside the small kitchen and dining area that looked somewhat similar to her own, just the color scheme was off.
This style was an upgrade, far more modern in paint and fixtures. Black and white without a hint of warmth her own apartment kitchen had. On the black granite countertop, she spied a black billfold style wallet and keys laying just beside the refrigerator and an espresso maker.
An espresso maker!? And dear god, what an idiot…who leaves their keys and wallet out in plain view with their front door wide open?…she snickered to herself.
"Think there's anyone home?" Came a low, deep voice from directly over her shoulder. At the sound, her heart nearly burst from her chest with the rush of fear that surged through her veins.
"Shit!" Lyre breathed, nearly stumbling forward into the dark and unfamiliar apartment to escape who ever it was that was standing beside her. Even under normal circumstances her already anxiety ridden brain was on edge, but now, she felt her mind tumble headfirst into a panic driven tailspin.
Fuck fuck fuck...she thought as she spun on her heals nearly colliding with a solid mass covered in black fabric.
Nice job asshole, Marcus thought to himself as he looked down at the terrified woman standing before him. Her eyes gave it all away.
God damn…
He’d not meant to do that, not meant to startle her so badly. The terror on her face revealed just how viscerally his little stunt had affected her. He made a mental note not to do such a thing in the future and chastised himself for currently being a prick.
He did leave his door wide open and he did know she was watching him all afternoon.
Taking a large step backward, Marcus silently offered the woman a bit more space so as to not make her feel like he was about do something less than civilized. That was the last thing he needed or wanted. In fact, the less people know about him the better.
The woman’s light amber eyes watched him like a cornered animal, waiting for the pain that followed with being caught, fear overriding all other senses. Marcus had seen this look far too many times, witnessed this type of reaction before, and it triggered something deep within him, something he’d rather not fully acknowledge at the moment.
So, he took another step back.
Lyre watched him move away. His eyes focused on her face a bit more than she liked, though at least he’d given her a bit more space to move. Taking a long deep breath, appreciative of his response, Lyre quickly tried to cover and retreat as fast as possible.
"I...I’m so sorry…was just trying to see if you were settling in ok..." Lyre lied, well kind of lied.
Though that wasn't her intent just then, she did genuinely want to introduce herself. What she hadn't anticipated was just how silently he could move down the hall without her even having the slightest indication that he'd returned from the elevator. Perhaps she’d been so engrossed with looking around his place that she’d not really been paying attention to her surroundings. If her dad were watching, he’d either be laughing his ass off or he’d be pissed at her lapse in judgment. Probably both.
"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to startle..." the man standing before her began, his tone clearly apologetic, a kindness Lyre didn't miss, but at the moment, she was having trouble getting her thoughts and emotions regulated and somewhat somewhat back normal.
And she felt extremely embarrassed by her actions.
"No...I’m so sorry...sorry…I...gotta...gotta go..." Before she could further make an ass of herself, Lyre skillfully slipped around the man that she still hadn't formally met and retreated back into her apartment, elated that she’d left her door unlocked so she could quickly get inside.
Breathe...breathe... she reminded herself as she entered, locked and slumped back against her front door. She let her body slide down until she was seated on the floor.
Lyre knew she reacted badly to things like being surprised, knew most people could laugh it off as a fun prank and move on. Not her, not after everything she'd been through. It wasn't the new neighbors fault. She'd been spying into his home and he only did what anyone else might do in a similar situation.
Not like he could have known… Lyre reminded herself.
With a deep sigh, she sat began practicing the breathing exercises her therapist had recommended she engage in when anxiety or panic threatened to plunge her back into darker memories and even worse habits.
The sounds from the new neighbor continued, his feet moving about inside the apartment as he apparently had begun to move boxes about. A short time later, she heard his front door open and then close, the locks engaging in two large ‘clicks’. Heavy footsteps moved from his door and Lyre waited, expecting them to continue down the hallway.
Only they didn’t. She once again felt the rising panic within her body as the man now clearly stopped moving forward, and instead, now stood directly in front of her door.
Oh fuck me... Lyre nearly groaned. Please don’t knock…
She wasn't ready to face him, still far too embarrassed by not only being caught, but also having an absurdly emotional overreaction to a silly thing most normal people could quickly recover from. Lyre waited, watching her door, listening for a knock or the bell.
Instead, she just heard silence.
After a long moment, the footsteps moved on, seemingly heading back down the hall and in the direction of the elevator.
Relief instantly overcame her and she relaxed. “No more snooping…that’s for sure…” She told herself as if to drive home the message, to make it stick.
Of course that didn’t mean she’d stop listening to what was going on while in safety of her own space, behind her locked doors. Of course she'd keep listening and in fact, it was difficult not to listen.
The walls were paper fucking thin. If he scratched his balls too loud she'd no doubt hear it from across the dining room.
Finding her sense of peace again, Lyre rose and wandered into the kitchen. The bright yellow paint and equally vibrant mosaic tiles made her feel slightly better, as the warm sunny tones with bright blues and greens reminded her off rolling hills and blue skies. Memories of another place and of better memories. The tile work was exquisite and was one of the main reasons she’d selected this unit from the others that were available. Hand laid ceramic shapes formed intricate mandalas all around the countertops and cabinets. It really was lovely and brought a welcoming vibe to the tiny cooking space.
Part of her wished she could actually cook real food so she could spend a bit more time in the kitchen. Sometimes she even imagined having friends over, cooking for them, daydreamed of date nights where she wore a stupid little dress and impressed a partner with her culinary skill.
That was laughable. Most nights consisted of take out or the occasional plate of bland spaghetti sauce from a jar with soggy noodles, or ramen. Her mom hadn’t been one for cooking after he dad died and Lyre just never really found it to be one of strong suits. Tonight was no exception as far as meals were concerned. Lyre fully anticipated pulling up a bar stool and eating day old Chinese food at her kitchen counter.
The more Lyre thought about it, she didn’t feel like she had any overwhelmingly good talents or skills.
No matter how hard she worked or how many things she attempted to learn, she always seemed been mediocre at everything. From pottery to rock climbing to archery to jujitsu, she found her skill level usually ranked in the bottom fiftieth percentile. It was more than frustrating actually; particularly when Brennan made it a point to tell her she wasn’t good at anything and how lucky she was that he could take care of her, that he had come along and graced her with his attention and affection.
“There’s nothing you do that’ll ever be better than me.” He’d told her once after she came home to show off her final project in a photography class she’d enrolled in. Part of Lyre wondered if she dropped out of college because of him. It wouldn’t surprise her if the manipulation she’d endured had gone that deep into her psyche.
Nope, stop…she reminded herself. Another thing she’d learned in therapy. Identify when you start the spiral into self deprecation and do something else.
Back to the neighbor situation. Lyre wondered now if she should even bother with the good neighborly gesture she'd always used on the previous tenants. She was hesitant now after being caught like a complete creep.
Though…It couldn't hurt, especially now...she thought.
Chocolate chip cookies were always great ice breaker, or at least they'd mostly been successful in the past with prior tenants who shared the same bedroom wall. Lyre considered that maybe they'd work more as a peace offering.
Most of her previous neighbors had been delighted to receive a house warming gift, save for the most recent one, the last neighbor who’d moved out a month ago. The woman had been one of the few exceptions that perhaps found her token of good will offensive. Or her cooking. Though Lyre wasn't the best cook, she thought her cookies were ok.
Maybe?
It wasn't that the woman had been openly rude, she just didn't seem all that interested in making a new friend. To be fair, with all her loud sexual escapades, Lyre was more than grateful she didn't have to look the woman in the eye on the daily, because god damn that bitch was porno style loud.
Standing at the door of the large pantry, stared inside. The bag of flour sat where she’d last placed it. Next to the sugar and all the other things she needed. Shutting the door, she moved over to the fridge to stare at the milk and the bag of chocolate chips.
What if he's gluten intolerant or some shit like that? Or he thinks your damn stalker Lyre....
Groaning, she quickly slammed the refrigerator door before turning to stare out the window at the ocean. The summer sky was cloudless as the afternoon sun rained down its unforgiving cancer inducing rays. Over the past few years, the climate had warmed substantially and sometimes even the AC no longer cut it on the most sweltering of days. Living this close to the coast made walking along the beach a good way to deal with unwanted thoughts and emotions. At the moment, Lyre felt so very lost and confused, but mostly just plain stupid.
But given the heat of the day and the fact that she didn’t want to step foot in the hall, Lyre decided it best to stay inside.
Maybe I’ll never leave again.
But that was impossible. She had to go to work tomorrow and eventually she’d run into the neighbor again. It was only a matter of time.
"Ughhh..." Lyre hissed out a frustrated groan and reached back into the fridge for the eggs and milk.
"Ok…It’ll be the - I'm sorry, and no, I'm not really a pervert - plate of cookies then..." Lyre muttered as she flipped on the oven and smiled slightly at her own ridiculousness.
She thought back to the brief interaction, at the fact that her neighbor hadn’t yelled or berated her indiscretion. He could have.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.