Next Door

I stood there in silence, shaking like a leaf. Was this actually happening? I’d envisioned meeting PJP so many times, and in my fantasies, I was always chatty and casual.

“Miss Steele. Your Majesty,” I said quickly, deathly afraid of making mistakes.

It was one thing to be meeting the youngest artist to win a slew of Grammys, but quite another to meet actual royalty. Was “Your Majesty” even the right way to address him?

“Only his father calls me Miss,” Meredith smiled, pointing at River.

PJP stood up, shook my hand, and said, “Jean Pierre, enchanté.”

Holy shit! I was never going to wash my hands again!

Jean Pierre sat back down and patted the seat beside him. “So how do you know America’s most talented singer?” he asked kindly.

Was he aware of how nervous I was?

I blinked at him stupidly, trying to figure out who he was talking about. I was so utterly lost in his gaze that my mind had stopped working.

“River’s father handles my investment portfolio,” Meredith said, as she sipped on what was probably club soda. I’d read in Next Door that she didn’t drink alcohol at all.

“And Kit is my guitar teacher,” River shared his secret to answer PJP’s question. He winked at me and smiled, knowing perfectly well what this encounter meant to me.

“I didn’t know you played guitar!” Meredith said, slapping River’s arm.

They’d clearly spent time together before. I was about to mention that he sang as well but luckily I stopped myself.

River and Meredith disappeared into their own conversation, leaving me all alone with PJP.

“What brings you to the US?” I asked, nerves constricting my throat.

Jean Pierre took a comfortable position, revealing some of his arm ink. I tried my absolute best to not openly stare at it.

“I’m here to visit universities,” he said with that beautiful accent of his. “I plan to continue my studies in America.”

Wait, what?! The one and only PJP was moving stateside? I was literally squealing on the inside.

“You don’t have anything to drink,” he said suddenly. “There’s something I’d like you to try.”

He held up two fingers and moments later, an elegant gentleman approached with two large snifters.

“This is Guillaume XI, a brandy from Anchy,” Jean Pierre said, raising his glass.

I took a sip and almost coughed. “Strong but very smooth,” I said with my best smile.

“And most importantly, no headache the next day,” Jean Pierre said, tapping his forehead.

“Good, because I have school tomorrow,” I said.

He laughed as if I had made a joke and with that, the ice was broken. I continued chatting to the very down-to-earth Prince about all sorts of random stuff.

He was mostly curious about life in the US and my tipsy brain had a lot to say on that topic. After all, I was half English. I just conveniently left out the part that I’d never actually lived in the UK.

When it was time to leave, PJP stood up once again to shake my hand and said, “Nice meeting you, Kit. Thank you for all the advice.”

Yup, never gonna wash my hands ever again.

***

The moment we were back in the car, I lost it.

“That was so freaking insane! Did you know he was going to be there?!” I asked, grabbing River’s arm with both hands.

“I knew he was invited but wasn’t sure if he’d show up. Was he everything you’d imagined?”

“I can’t believe how casual and nice he is!” I said, my voice suddenly sounding too loud.

“Nice? I’ll be sure to tell Next Door,” River said, laughing. His cheeks were red from the champagne, and he looked utterly adorable.

“I still can’t believe you did this! Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said, hugging his arm.

“This was fun,” he said, his eyes sparkling with…joy?

What made him so happy?

***

After completing our ninth lesson together, I sat watching River with a great sense of pride. I clapped loudly and said, “My work here is done.”

“Are you sure I’m ready, sensei?” he asked, knowing perfectly well that he was.

“Do you want a certificate?” I said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, please.” He was wearing his silly grin that I was definitely going to miss.

I took a piece of paper from my desk and quickly scribbled something childish with a few of the letters written backward.

I wrote, “River is da bestest gitar playir on da erf.” I handed it to him and watched his eyes read.

“I will frame it and hang it in my room,” he said, pressing it against his chest.

“Are you going to use your song soon?” I asked, purposely avoiding the “who for”.

“I’ll be meeting the person in question tonight,” he said. I found his phrasing odd.

“So, you already knew you were ready!” I said, punching his arm playfully.

“Maybe,” he replied. “But I needed my teacher’s seal of approval.

“I just hope that whoever it is, realizes just how lucky they are,” I said quietly.

He observed me for a while but said nothing.

“Oh, shit!” I exclaimed. “I almost forgot.”

I opened my cupboard and grabbed the gift I’d gotten for him. “It’s a secondhand but I had it cleaned up and professionally tuned,” I said, handing him the guitar. “I made the strap myself, so it’s kind of cheesy.”

“Kit, I don’t know what to say,” he stuttered.

“You can’t perform without a guitar, and I’m not letting you serenade someone else with mine, so…”

He walked up to me and hugged me tightly. “Thank you, Kit. For everything.”

Was this a goodbye?

***

Around nine PM, River texted me.

I ran downstairs and switched on the light in the hallway. I’d been listening to music in my room, and Mom was out for drinks with some colleagues from work. When I let him in, he was very quiet. I decided to take him upstairs and wait until he was ready to talk.

He dropped himself onto my bed and stared at the ceiling in silence for a while. Then he said, “Can I ask you to listen without judging me?”

“Why would I judge you, River?” I said quietly.

“My family went to Thailand over the summer, and I didn’t feel like going with them,” he said, still looking straight up.

I sat at my desk and kept perfectly quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“Then, one day I ran into Pedro…Mr. Sanchez, in my favorite coffee place.”

My skin started to tingle. I was one hundred percent sure that he meant the oh, so hot twenty-six-year-old Spanish teacher, but that would mean…

“Day after day, we bumped into each other until on a random Thursday, I asked him to join me.”

Was this going where I thought it was? So many things started to click into place, yet my mind didn’t know how to process this properly.

“Not long after, I was spending every night in his bed, and since then I’ve been questioning everything I thought I knew about myself.”

What?!

River had left me utterly speechless. I had absolutely no right to judge, but River and the Spanish teacher?! Holy fuck!

“When the school year started, Pedro got cold feet and quickly ended it,” River sighed. “I’ve tried many times to talk to him but…”

“The song was for him,” I breathed.

“Yes,” River answered, sitting upright. “He finally agreed to meet me tonight, but on my way over, I realized I was making a horrible mistake.”

“You don’t deserve to be anyone’s dirty secret, River,” I said in all honesty.

“Actually, I meant something else,” he said. “Pedro showed me who I am, but there is only one person that makes me feel like…me.”

“Yet another person?!” I asked in shock. “River, I think you…”

I couldn’t finish the sentence because his soft lips were on mine.