I couldn't remember the last time I slept so badly. All night long my little sex show played on a loop inside my head. I couldn't stop thinking about it. And each time I did a new feeling seemed to emerge.

Sometimes I felt embarrassed, ashamed of how I'd let myself get so easily swept away by some stupid fantasy. Sometimes I felt guilty, doing something like that when I knew exactly what could happen if I was caught. But mostly, I just felt excited.

I kept remembering his eyes. The way he couldn't seem to tear them away from me, the way they followed my every move, the hunger in them.

Another small shiver of pleasure ran through my body at the memory. Especially when I started thinking about what must have happened after I closed the curtains.

If I was this excited remembering what had happened, I could only imagine how he was feeling. After all, you don't keep watching a show like that without enjoying it at least a little bit. I wondered what he was thinking that whole time. Or was he even thinking at all? Was he disappointed when the show ended? Excited? Did he keep thinking about me afterward? Did he touch himself while he did it?

I bit my lip. God, what I wouldn't give to have a front-row seat to that show. Maybe next time, I could—

Logic hit me like a ton of bricks. I shook my head and slapped my cheeks, trying to bring myself back to reality.

No, no, no. There was no "next time." That was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. And a mistake at that. It never should have happened in the first place, and I certainly wouldn't be doing it again.

Eli was depending on me. I got lucky with that car door last night, but if Phil hadn't slammed it...

I shuddered and tried my best to push that thought from my head. It was fine. Everything was fine. It didn't happen so it didn't matter. There was no need to panic about that now. Not while I had actual things to panic about instead. Like how the hell I was going to face Mason today.

Dread filled my body at the reminder. I sighed and leaned my head against the table covering it with my arms.

I'd spent all day doing this. The anxiety was killing me. Each car door that slammed, each voice that I heard, each footstep that passed my house sent me into a mini panic attack. I kept worrying that one of them might be Mason. That he'd actually show up today and I'd finally have to face the reality of what I did.

But maybe I wouldn't have to. Maybe he just wouldn't come today. I mean, it was already nearly four and he hadn't shown up so far. Plus, if I was feeling this awkward about everything, then I'm sure that he was too. Maybe he'd stay at home, make some half-assed excuse to me the next time we inevitably ran into each other, and then we could live the rest of our lives as slightly awkward but amicable neighbors.

I couldn't tell if I was relieved or disappointed by that thought, but either way, it did make me feel a little better. I let out a small sigh and stood up. Okay, no more sitting around and pointlessly panicking. Those dishes weren't going to wash themselves.

However, no sooner had I turned the water on than the doorbell suddenly rang. It sent my heart fluttering in an instant. I glanced at the clock. The mail usually came around this time. Maybe Phil had ordered something that I needed to sign for.

Of course, that was just a pipe dream. Unsurprisingly, I opened the door to find Mason standing there, waiting for me. And yet, somehow, I was still surprised.

He smiled when he saw me. "Hey, Maggie!"

I had no clue what to say to him right now. Still, I knew that I had to say something. Standing here and staring at him like this would only make things more awkward. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile to my face.

"Oh, hey, Mason. What are you doing here?"

"Came to fix the fence," he said, holding up a toolbox. "I wasn't sure if you guys had any tools on hand, so I brought my own stuff."

"We have the tools, but I'm not sure if Phil ever got around to actually buying the nails and stuff."

"Not a problem. I have nails and stuff aplenty," he chuckled. He looked around a second before pointing towards the back. "This way, right?"

"Yup, just out the sliding doors."

He gave a small nod before heading in that direction. A second later, I heard the door slide open then shut again. I was too stunned to follow him.

What the hell was that exactly? I mean, it's not like I wanted him to give me an FBI-level interrogation about what had happened last night or anything, but I guess I still expected him to have some sort of reaction the next time he saw me. At least awkwardly avoiding eye contact if nothing else.

But no. His smile, his laugh, even the way he spoke to me were exactly the same as when we had talked yesterday. It was like he didn't see a thing.

My brain was a buzzing mess of confusion. I didn't know what to think. I mean, he saw me last night, right? I didn't imagine it? He had definitely been watching me. Hell, enjoying it even. So why was he acting as if nothing had happened? Was he really that good of an actor?

Although, now that I thought about it, did he even have a reason to think that I knew about last night? After all, there could have been a million reasons why I shut my curtains so suddenly, and it's not exactly like I ever looked at him or anything. In fact, I specifically tried to avoid looking. At least directly.

If that was the case, then, yeah, it only made sense for him to ignore what had happened. Acknowledging it, especially if he thought I didn't even know about it, would only make things awkward between us. So, why would he? I certainly wouldn't.

That revelation brought an overwhelming sense of relief along with it. Mostly because it meant that I was safe. That Eli was safe. That everything could go back to normal. I could mark this little incident down as a momentary lapse in judgment and move on with my life.

A muffled hammering from outside suddenly caught my attention.

Well, if we were going back to being "friendly neighbors," then I might as well fill that role properly. I went to the refrigerator and grabbed a pitcher of lemonade. A little clichéd, sure, but nothing said "friendly housewife next door" more than offering a hard-working helper a glass of lemonade.

I giggled a bit at the idea as I grabbed the glass and headed outside. However, I ended up walking from one cliché straight into another. Only this time, it was like something out of a porno.

Mason stood by the fence, tall and tanned. His muscles strained against the fabric of his dark T-shirt. Beads of sweat slowly rolled down his neck and soaked into the fabric. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it to wipe his face, giving me a perfect view of his abs.

As I slid the door closed behind me, he turned his head towards the sound. He smiled and waved to me, letting his shirt fall loosely at his sides. As I got closer, I could see his boxers peeking out from the edge of his shorts, almost daring me to see what was underneath.

"Looks pretty good, huh?"

"What?" I asked, startled by the sudden question.

I looked up only to see that he was staring at the fence and not me. I had to resist the urge to let out an audible sigh of relief. Thank God. I could only imagine what my face must have looked like a second ago.

He reached out and pressed one of the boards with his fingers. A slight wiggle, but nothing remotely close to what it had been like before he fixed it. He smiled and gave a satisfied nod in its direction.

"Well, it probably won't win any awards, but at least it should keep the robbers out," he chuckled.

"Ah, yes. Those elusive suburban robbers," I said, trying to make my voice sound playful. "It seems you've thwarted their carefully laid plans to invade my home. Please, take this glass of lemonade as a token of my gratitude."

"Damn! Don't mind if I do."

I thought that last night was a fluke. That I was just swept away by the fantasy of doing something so risqué for a stranger and let myself lose control. That the excitement I felt was nothing more than the heat of the moment.

But I was wrong. As Mason grabbed the glass from me his fingers brushed against mine and sent a surge of electricity straight through my body. My knees went weak in an instant. I swear, I would have collapsed onto the ground if I hadn't been standing next to the fence. I leaned against it heavily, my heart racing in my chest.

What was wrong with me? He'd barely touched me. Why was I reacting like this?

I knew it was stupid. I knew that it didn't make any sense. But what your brain knows and what your body feels are two very different things, and no amount of "logic" or "reasoning" was going to stop the tingling I suddenly felt between my legs.

Thankfully, Mason had decided to chug down the lemonade, which gave me a second to compose myself before he noticed anything wrong.

He let out a satisfied sigh as he finished the glass. "Ah. Nothing like a glass of cold lemonade after a little manual labor."

"Would you like another?" I asked, looking for an excuse to put some distance between us.

"Wish I could, but I'd better get going. The day's only half done, and I have more crap to unpack at home," he explained, handing the glass back to me.

They say that if something happens once, then it's an accident. If it happens twice, then it's a coincidence. And if it happens three times, then it's a pattern. So, as his touch again sent a shower of sparks through every last cell in my body, I was more than convinced that the feelings Mason gave me weren't just a passing "heat of the moment" thrill.

Which might explain why I, stupidly, asked, "Do you need any help?"

"Huh?" The question registered a second later. "Ah! Thanks, but it's fine. I gripe about it a lot, but it really isn't that bad. It's just the challenge of actually starting to do it."

That should have been it. That should have been the end of my attempts to be "helpful" in any way, shape, or form. That should have been my cue to quit while I was ahead and thank my lucky stars that he had, again, offered me an easy out to the mess I'd gotten myself into.

Yet, somehow, it wasn't.

"No, really," I insisted. "I already said I would anyway. I mean, you helped me out with the fence and all."

"Well, if you insist, then I could certainly use the kick in the ass. How about this weekend though?" he suggested. "Aside from the piles of boxes in my living room, I've also been procrastinating on some work junk too. I'll probably have to spend the next few days catching up on it all."

"Great. It's a date."

I don't know why I said it. Maybe I was hoping he would show some kind of reaction to the word the way that I had yesterday.

However, if that was the case, the reality left me sorely disappointed. He didn't react at all beyond giving a small smile of acknowledgment.

"You got it. See you Saturday."

He knelt and grabbed his toolbox, giving me a small, playful salute before walking back toward the house.

The moment he was out of sight, my common sense came back and sucker-punched me straight in the gut. I slumped down to the ground and buried my face in my hands, letting out an exasperated groan.

Great job, Maggie. Out of the frying pan and straight into the fucking fire, huh? Now I had to see him again. And to make things worse, I now seemed to have this Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Horndog personality thing going on whenever he was around. How exactly was I supposed to act like a "normal neighbor" around him when even the slightest touch had me soaking my panties like this?

What the hell was I just doing? Going weak in the knees, flirting like a schoolgirl, making pitiful excuses just to see him again. What was wrong with me? Did I already forget about Eli or something? Didn't I just narrowly escape making this mistake last night? So, why was I here making it again for some reason? And intentionally this time.

I sighed heavily as I stood up and trudged my way back to the house. God, I'd barely done anything today and I already felt exhausted. Usually, I couldn't have cared one way or the other if Phil showed up for dinner or not. But today, I really hoped he wouldn't. I wasn't sure if I had the energy to be his "good little housewife" today.

Serendipity truly does come to save us in our most desperate hours though. Not two hours later I got a phone call from Phil. Some half-assed explanation about a last-minute meeting or something, with his traditional sign-off of "don't wait up."

For once, I decided to actually take him up on that offer though. I slapped together a sandwich, washed the dishes I'd been neglecting, and headed straight for bed.

Well, for the bedroom at least. It was still only seven by the time I finished with everything and the last thing I wanted was to go to bed too early and screw up my sleep schedule for the week. Especially now that I seemed to have plans for the weekend.

I groaned and flopped onto my bed as I thought about it. What was I even thinking when I suggested that?

Maybe that was the problem. I wasn't thinking. I was just going on instinct. Saying what I wanted to say, doing what I wanted to do. I never once stopped to think about the consequences of my actions. Or just how much I had to lose.

My eyes landed on the picture on my nightstand. It was me and Eli, standing in a park together when we were kids. He must have been about three at the time. I carried him in my arms. At least, as well as an awkward teenager could.

I still remembered my mom standing behind the camera, making funny faces so he would smile. It worked a little too well though. She looked so ridiculous that I ended up laughing more than he did. It all worked out though. To this day, I still considered that picture one of my most treasured possessions. One of the few happy memories I still had with Eli before he got sick.

Why was I doing this? Why did I keep intentionally putting Eli in harm's way by doing things I knew I should never even be considering? If I lost him, then I lost everything. My family, my best friend, my reason for living. So why was I risking it all just for a potential fling with the guy across the street?

Answers flooded my brain in the form of memories. The way my heart raced when I first realized that Mason was watching me, the way every nerve in my body seemed to tingle under his gaze, the thrill of rediscovering feelings within myself that I had nearly forgotten existed. A part of myself that I had long thought was dead.

And maybe that was the reason. Not because I wanted to sacrifice Eli, of course, but just because I didn't want to have to sacrifice myself anymore.

For too long now, I had spent my days existing. Going through the motions without any feelings behind what I did. An empty shell piloted by routine and obligations.

But last night with Mason? I felt excitement. I felt desire. I felt alive. For the first time in ages, I felt alive. And I just wasn't ready to go back to that numb, lifeless existence yet.

As I stepped towards the curtains, I could already feel my heart racing with excitement. Was it a good idea? No. Was it risky? Yes. But I didn't care anymore.

I didn't care about "consequences." I didn't care about "tomorrow." All I cared about was tonight. And tonight, I was going to live.