It's not right to spy on people. I know that much.
Then again, is what I'm doing really spying? I'm just looking. I stumbled upon something and just haven't turned away yet, that's all.
He finishes the bench press; the clang of the metal bar as he places it back on the rack echoing across the yard. He lays there for another moment, breathing heavily, his right hand resting on his chest.
Standing up, he walks to a pair of dumbbells he placed in the grass earlier. Taking off his T-shirt, and throwing it on the patio, he starts doing lateral raises. His arms reach out either side of him, the muscles of his back flexing under the sun.
I'm really not sure why I'm watching him workout. Maybe I'm hoping to get some motivation. My gym buddy at work just switched jobs so now I have no one to go with; no one who can motivate me to drag my ass there on the days when I'm not feeling like it, which is, let's be honest, most days.
We haven't spoken yet, me and this guy. He and his wife -- I assume they're married -- moved in next door three days ago. It's funny how in movies and sitcoms when someone new moves on the street, everyone knocks on their door to introduce themselves with a gift. Has anyone ever actually done this in real life?
He keeps raising his arms in the air. He's done twelve reps now. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. He drops the weights in the grass and stands back, catching his breath. He puts his hands on his hips and breaths deeply. His back is huge. His legs are tanned and thick and look like they could bust out of the white shorts he's wearing at any minute.
I think I'm jealous. Yeah, that's it.
I'm physically fit, in the best shape of any man on this street by a mile. Well, until now. This guy has stolen my thunder.
He turns around and I catch a glimpse of his face. He's around my age; late thirties. His chest is covered in dark hair; a trail of it running in a line from his naval into his shorts. He picks his shirt up and wipes the sweat from his brow.
He looks to his right and a second later, his wife appears, joining him on the grass. I'm watching them from my bedroom upstairs. The window is open but they're too far away for me to hear anything. It's just mumbles. He nods and a minute later, they both head for their back door. I watch him until he goes inside and vanishes from sight.
I return to my place in the middle of the floor and carry on with the stretches I'd been doing before I got distracted. My right hamstring is killing me. I messed it up squatting during my last workout. I close my eyes and wince, feeling the sharp sting as I stretch the muscle with a resistance band.
'Honey,' Claire calls. I can tell from her voice she's stood at the bottom of the stairs. 'You should probably get dressed; they'll be here soon.'
I frown. 'What?'
'I said they'll be here soon. It's just after seven.'
'Who?'
She sighs. 'The neighbors.'
'You said they were coming on Friday.'
'It is Friday.'
Shit.
Claire took a notion to invite some of the neighbours over for a barbeque and, as often happened with these things, the wives all said yes and the husbands all made an excuse why they couldn't come so the barbeque morphed into a wine and cheese night instead. Claire still wanted me to come down for a while and make pleasantries before I retreated to our room, which would serve as my mancave for the evening.
Sure enough, the doorbell rings a minute later. Too late to get changed now. I was wearing a football shirt and gym shorts.
The door opens and hellos are exchanged. Groaning internally, I force myself off the floor and, hamstring still killing me, limp my way downstairs.
'Ladies,' I say.
'Hi Jeff,' they all say in unison. Creepy.
Claire looks displeased that I haven't bothered to make myself look a little more presentable, but she says nothing. She's invited four people over. I recognise three of them, but the fourth is new.
I look closer. She's the new neighbor. His wife.
'I'm Hallie,' she says, shaking my hand. 'I just moved in next-door.'
'Right,' I say. 'How're you finding it?'
'Great, as of now. It's nice to get to know some of the other women. Poor Evan hasn't got to meet anyone yet.' She looks me up and down. 'You're about his age. Maybe the two of you can hang out.'
I laugh awkwardly. Am I being set up on a friend date? 'Yeah, maybe.'
I exchange a few pleasantries with the other guests before Claire leads them out back. Relieved to no longer be the lone male in a sea of oestrogen, I make my way back to my room.
I'm halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rings again.
'Jeff, can you get that?' Claire calls from outside.
Who else has she invited? I open the door.
Evan is stood on my doorstep, legs apart and his hands resting in front of him. He's changed out of the grey wife beater he had on earlier and is now in a black T-shirt and matching pair of shorts. His hair is dark and he has a layer of stubble. I haven't seen him this close before.
I stare. Words are failing me for some reason.
'Hey, what's up?' he says. 'I'm Evan from next-door.' We shake hands. I can feel the rough callouses on his palms from the weights. His skin is hot. 'I think my wife is here?' he says after a pause.
I still haven't said anything. 'Uh, yeah, she is. I mean, hey, nice to meet you.' I realise my mouth has been hanging open since I opened the door.
Jesus, get a grip. What is wrong with me?
'You probably don't want to join though,' I hear myself say, still finding it difficult to take my eyes off him. 'It's turned into a ladies' night sorta thing.'
'So I hear.'
He smiles. He's looking me right in the eye. My heart is beating slightly faster now.
'You wanna come over to mine for a beer or something?' Loud laughter comes from out back. Evan cocks his head past me and I take the opportunity to look down at his chest; his pectoral muscles cling to the shirt. 'Looks like they've taken over your place.'
While small talk with strangers isn't my favourite thing in the world, spending the evening with Evan sounds infinitely better than being trapped upstairs until the neighbours leave.
This could also be an opportunity to find myself a new gym buddy. And if he lets me use his garden equipment so I don't have to bother going to the actual gym, all the better.
'Sure,' I say.
'Cool.'
He puts his hands in his pockets and leads the way. I call to Claire to let her know I'm leaving and shut the door, having no idea if she heard me or not.
***
If you didn't know Evan and Hallie were recent arrivals to the neighbourhood, the fact would become obvious the second you set foot in their home. Several cardboard boxes are piled on top of each other beside the door; the whole place is sparsely furnished with the sitting only having one couch and a coffee table.
'It's been a busy few days,' Evan says, apparently noticing me giving the place a once over. He gestures to the lonely couch. 'Put your feet up.'
I sit down and listen to him open and close the fridge in the next room.
'What made you guys move?' I ask.
He enters the room and sits beside me, handing me an ice-cold beer. He spreads his legs so that our thighs are touching. His quads are huge. Why am I still looking at his body? I take a large gulp and stare at the fireplace, trying to figure out why I'm feeling slightly nervous.
'Got a new job at the university,' Evan says, taking a gulp. The veins in his neck move as he swallows. I look away again. 'House was pretty pricey but it's a fifteen-minute drive so worth it in the long run.'
'What do you do?'
'I'm a sports therapist,' he says. I remember the dull ache that still lingers in my hamstring. 'You?'
'Lawyer.'
'Shit. Long hours.'