My Neighbor, My Secret, My 20-Year-Old Cousin

She lives three doors down, which makes the whole thing both easier and more complicated than it should be. Twenty years old, and she has this way of showing up at my door barefoot, like she already knows how the evening ends.

It started with a look that lasted a beat too long, the kind that rewrites the rules without a single word spoken. The first time I touched her ankle, she let out a sound so quiet I almost missed it. Almost.

There is something specific she wants, something she has always wanted, and she never had to ask twice. I start at her heel, slow, while she leans back against the pillow and forgets every reason this is complicated. By the time the night is over, the word ‘neighbor’ feels like the least accurate word for what she is to me.

She still waves at me from across the driveway like nothing happened. But the way her eyes hold mine for just a second longer than necessary… that tells a different story entirely.

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