The Neighbors by Ania Ahlborn Read Free Book Online Page A

could already sense it. There was something raw about him, a vulnerability that was almost electric. The more she observed him, the more Andrew made her eyes sparkle with hope, from the sharp smell of a clean bathroom to a bright smile when he answered the door.
    Andrew Morrison was perfect.

CHAPTER FIVE
    A ndrew watched Harlow Ward saunter down the cracked driveway, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth, a sinking feeling heavy in the pit of his stomach. She had excused herself shortly after coming to Mickey’s door, embarrassed by the mess she found inside.
    Turning away from the window, he stopped in the doorway of his bedroom, his arms protectively crossed over his chest. He could only hope that Mrs. Ward’s opinion of him hadn’t been completely blown by something out of his control. Despite his best efforts, he had yet to tackle the living room and kitchen. He supposed if he’d led her to the bathroom, he could have reclaimed an iota of her respect.
    Sure,
he thought.
Mrs. Ward, please let me prove my worth by the sparkle of my tub.
    He realized, after a few minutes of brooding, that he was staring at something that didn’t belong to him: the cookie plate. He had devoured most of those delicious treats in a single sitting, but a pair of them remained on patterned porcelain. It was a habit he had picked up as a kid—save the last few for later, because there was no telling when he’d have money for more cookies, morecandy, more anything. Stepping forward, he lifted the plate from the top of his dresser, slid the remaining cookies onto a sheet of scrap paper, and ducked into the darkness of the hall.
    After washing the plate in Mick’s freshly scrubbed kitchen sink, he found himself standing in front of the Wards’ picket fence. Regardless of what Mrs. Ward thought of him now, the plate had to be returned. It was all a matter of whether he’d be invited inside or asked to leave.
    Nervous, he fiddled with the gate latch, imagining the plate slipping from his fingers and exploding into a thousand pieces at his feet. He clung to it, hugging it to his chest like Charlie had held fast to his golden ticket. It was Andrew’s pass into the chocolate factory; he only hoped it was good for a few visits rather than only one. Climbing the front porch steps, he took a deep breath, reached out his free hand, and pressed the glowing doorbell button. His heart thudded in his chest. Like a kid on a first date, he was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to back out, but his feet were planted firmly—a conflict of mind and body.
    Before he could talk his feet into moving, the front door swung wide. Mrs. Ward appeared surprised at the guest before her, her hand fluttering just beneath the hollow of her throat.
    “Andrew,” she said. “Hello again.”
    He watched her mouth waver between confidence and uncertainty. She hadn’t been expecting him; very likely hoped that he wouldn’t show up in this very manner—the grungy kid from the dirty house next door. That sinking feeling returned tenfold, threatening to pull him through the porch floor and six feet beneath the ground.
    “I...” He hesitated, pulling the clean plate from against his chest and holding it out to her in offering. “...forgot to give this to you.”
    She blinked at the plate as if not recognizing it, and then her mouth bloomed into a beautiful smile.
    “You’re so sweet,” she said, accepting Andrew’s offering of porcelain with a faint nod of her head. “Clean too?”
    It was Drew’s chance, his opportunity to tell her that what she had seen inside—the dust, the sadly dim interior—that hadn’t been him. That was something he was going to change, was in the process of changing as they spoke. But before he could gather his wits and launch into an explanation, Mrs. Ward took a side step and motioned for Drew to come inside.
    “Really?”
    Mrs. Ward smiled at his enthusiasm.
    “Of course,” she said. “Come in.”
    Harlow led Andrew inside