Ian was on a roll. With the second draft of lyrics well under way and the melody writing itself, he knew he'd finally gotten it. He'd finally written a love song to rival all love songs. Honest, pure, impossible to ignore: exactly what he was going for. Becca had to listen to this. She'd have no choice but to love him and allow herself to be loved in return. He's just started mapping chord progressions when someone knocked on his door.
Becca wasn't due for an hour, and he wasn't expecting any packages, so he tiptoed to the door slowly, trying not to alert the stranger to his presence. The missionaries had been out of late, energized by the warming weather and the temporal proximity to Easter. But the stranger on the other side of his door wasn't a missionary, at least he didn't think so. He opened the door to his shirtless neighbor just enough to peek his head out.
"Can I help you?" He eyed the blond suspiciously. This...Russell person who lived next door, he never wore a shirt, always waved to his Becca, and could frequently be seen doing push-ups on his front lawn. He was competition, plain and simple, the very reason he wrote a love song in the first place. If he didn't convince Becca to want him soon, she'd likely end up with this Russell fellow, and he looked the type to ruin her for other men.
Russell quirked a brow at Ian's question, though Ian didn't find much confusing about it.
"Can I help you?" he asked again, feeling his eyes narrow.
Russell cleared his throat. "Yes, I... I definitely think you can." He smirked in a way that Ian found infuriating.
"Well?" Ian was already tired of this idiot. "What do you want?"
"My pussy."
"Excuse me?"
"My cat. He's on your roof."
"I didn't know you had a cat." He definitely didn't have a cat. And if he was looking for his "pussy" as euphemism, Ian didn't like it one bit. First of all, Becca was not his. Second, she should never be referred to in such a way. And third, Becca was definitely not his.
"I just bought him yesterday," said Russell. "I named him Willow, as in Pussy. Willow. I thought it would be funny." He chuckled but let it die off. "Guess I was wrong."
Giving him the benefit of the doubt, and seeing as Becca wasn't around to be flirted with, Ian asked politely, "Well, what do you want me to do about it?"
"Can I come inside?" Again with that stupid ass grin. "I'll be quick, in and out. Then you can continue pretending not to notice me."
What the hell was that supposed to mean, Ian wondered. Notice him hitting on his girl? Notice him showing off in the street for all the world to see? He hadn't been covert in his observations of these things. Ian watched through his blinds like a stalker and glared menacingly whenever the three of them were within yards of one another.
"Be quick about it," said Ian, stepping aside. "Becca will be home soon."
Russell nodded and walked in, taking a look around. "Did you decorate yourself?"
"Becca helped. Actually, I pretty much just funded it. She does whatever she wants in our house." He was sure to put emphasis on the "our".
"So... She's your girlfriend?"
Ian's first instinct was to blurt out a "yes" and tell Russell to get a move on, but he found he couldn't lie about this. What if Becca liked the guy? What if she preferred him over Ian? How could he ruin her happiness? He sighed. "No. She's not my girlfriend. But I'm working on it." He glanced over to the wastebasket, overflowing with his failed attempts at declaration. Russell followed his gaze to the pile of crumpled sheet music and sighed as well.
"Ahh... Love'll drive a man nuts," he said, clapping a hand on Ian's shoulder. "That's why I make it a point to never fall in love. Keep it fun. Avoid intense emotion; it's the only way to stay sane out there."
Ian stiffened. "Don't you have a cat to save?"
"There's a window with roof access on your house. Which one is it?"
Ian thought it through. There were actually two windows with roof access. One in his bedroom, and one in Becca's. "This way," he said, heading for his own room. "You can climb out through here."
Russell followed him up the stairs, keeping oddly quiet for such an obnoxious ass until they reached Ian's room.
"Niiice," he drawled, running his hands over Ian's sheets. "Your not-quite-girlfriend pick these out too?"
Ian blushed, the rich satin had actually been his own doing. And though Becca's possible enjoyment had been a largely motivating factor, she'd never even seen his bed. Any time she'd tried to enter Ian's bedroom, he found some excuse to get her back into the hallway. God only knew what would happen if he had Becca alone in his room. Whatever it was would likely be more embarrassing than smooth.
Instead of answering Russell's question, Ian gestured toward the window.
"Better get after my Pussy," Russell said with a smirk, trailing his finger along Ian's bed as he made his way over to the window. He raised the blinds and flipped the lock with ease, but when he pushed upward the glass wouldn't budge.
"There's a latch there," Ian offered. "Here, let me."
"I got it," Russell protested, angling himself to push harder. The window groaned and let out a CRACK.
"You're gonna break it." Ian tried to shove Russell out of the way, but he was surprisingly solid. Instead, he ducked under the man's arms, finding the right button easily and releasing the sash. With a grunt Russell lurched forward as the window unexpectedly sprang up, taking both his and Ian's hands with it.
"Shit!" They both yelled. Ian landed on his knees and immediately brought his finger to his lips. He tasted blood, but the pain had already receded. Russell hadn't fared as well.
"Fuuuckk," he groaned from the floor. He help one palm to his forehead, which he seemed to have bashed against the windowsill, while his other hand ghosted over his crotch, as though afraid to touch.
