Member-only story
A Frat House Moved in Next Door and it Didn’t Go Well
A domestic invasion that created a disturbance
“Oh Sean, you silly boy. You know I’ve always liked you, right?”
Trish’s dark curly hair hung in front of her face as she put her chin on her hand. She sat on the other side of the room, her eyes drilling a hole through me. Her voice was as sweet as caramel and her eyes were green like a summer day in the country.
I said nothing as I leaned back against the wall, my eyes wide. She stood up and sauntered across the room towards me. Her hand brushed my chest, went up to my cheek and I froze. She leaned in as her lips came closer to my own. My heart raced in my chest.
She stopped just short and opened her mouth to say one last thing but I couldn’t hear her. The thumping of my heart was drowning out every other sound. Then, it got louder and louder, and I thought it might explode.
Suddenly, I bolted up straight in my bed, covered in sweat. Yet I still heard the same loud thudding. It was music. It was that cursed music, again, coming from the party next door.
The investment was supposed to pay off
For thirteen years, I lived a humble life in this home, saving and investing every spare dollar I had:
I paid a huge sum, a majority of my life savings to upgrade my house, after living in that tiny, rinky-dink home, getting ugly stares from the neighbors, who made it abundantly clear I was the eyesore. I was the only small house in that neighborhood. I’d saved and invested, and waited for my moment to pounce.
Finally, I made my move. I bought a new townhome right near the city, with proximity to many great restaurants and potential jobs. This was to be my big boy house. Initially, things were great. My neighbors were a diverse and welcoming group, who made me feel like one of their own.
Then, a month after moving in, I saw men sitting on their balcony, which faced my garage and, instantly, my alarm bells started going off. They looked barely out of…
