The Distance Between Houses

** This story contains some romantic themes and may be on the more mature side. **

I never paid much attention to the house next door—until one evening, I glanced out at the patio and saw him there: barefoot, sun-dappled, and smiling at something only he could see.

My day started out like any other. I was wound tight with stress from my telecommuting job with an insurance company, worn down by the usual battles—presenting audit files to clients who didn’t want to pay, dealing with account managers who couldn’t manage, and cleaning up after a supervisor who delegated blindly without understanding the work himself.

To stay grounded, I had to be intentional. That meant walking my dog more, eating better, squeezing in workouts, reading, and pouring energy into my deck garden. Being out on the deck became my form of therapy. Whether I was watering basil, photographing the wildlife on the lake behind my house, or watching the sunset with a glass of wine, it gave me a rare and welcome reprieve from the chaos of the day.

When the neighbors moved in next door last winter, I didn’t give them much thought. They looked like a couple of young bachelors who mostly kept to themselves—thankfully. All I knew was that they were roommates who drove matching Corvettes, and the taller one also had a Ford pickup.

It wasn’t until summer, when the neighborhood finally thawed and people started coming outside again, that I had a real conversation with either of them. The guys would grill in the evenings, and I often caught the scent of smoke and spices drifting over to my patio. One evening, I was outside photographing the frogs and birds when I glanced across the yard and asked the taller one if he could tell what was moving in the lake on his side.

As I lowered my camera and looked at him directly, something shifted.

He was tall and just muscular enough. Tan. Laughing at something on his phone—probably TikTok. There was an ease about him, a warmth I hadn’t noticed before. And for the first time, I realized I was starting to notice a lot.

When I caught his attention, he looked up from the grill and smiled—easy, warm, and a little boyish in its charm. He said he could see the frogs and fish from his side of the lake, pointing them out with the tip of his spatula. As he turned his food over the flame, I kept snapping pictures, and somehow, our brief exchange turned into a 45-minute conversation.

He was effortlessly easy to talk to.

We covered everything from my dog to where he went to school, his cars, his job. I found myself getting drawn in by his voice—and more than once, caught myself getting lost in his eyes as he talked. I didn’t catch his name during that first conversation, but I did learn that his roommate’s name was Brad.

Eventually, the mosquitos chased them inside, and I took that as my cue to go in too. I fed the dog, threw together a quick dinner, and curled up on the couch with a slice of pizza.

But I didn’t really taste it.

Instead, I sat there, eating slowly, my mind spinning over our conversation. For some reason, the image of my tall, sun-kissed neighbor lingered. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Questions kept swirling through my mind—How old is he? Is he single? If he is, would he be open to something more? I wasn’t great at reading signals, so I told myself to play it cool and not make a fool of myself.

For the most part, I carried on—work, hobbies, the daily grind. But whenever I was out on my deck, thoughts of my neighbor kept creeping back, like a quiet game of roulette. Would I see him today? Would we talk?

Luck was mostly on my side, and I caught glimpses of him a few times a week, usually on weeknights. Eventually, I learned his name—Aiden.

As those brief encounters stretched into conversations, I found myself more and more drawn in. I learned about his family—his parents, siblings, his favorite subjects in school, and what had brought him to this town.

One evening, as Aiden stood by his grill, I leaned on my patio railing and smiled.

“So, what’s for dinner tonight?” I asked.

He grinned that boyish grin again, dimples deepening, green eyes sparkling.

“Loaded baked potatoes and steak,” he said.

“Mmm… sounds perfect,” I replied, turning to watch the sky melt into shades of orange and pink.

Aiden paused thoughtfully, then said, “Brad’s out of town, so I’ve got no one to hang out with for dinner. Want to come over?”

I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat. I tried to mask my surprise and not seem too eager, but my smile probably gave me away—because Aiden just grinned wider.

“Sure,” I said, lifting my glass of wine. “I’m heading over.”

Since our homes were conjoined townhomes, our front doors were the only way in and out. Our patios sat on an upper level, so jumping the railing was out of the question. I wasn’t sure I was graceful enough to pull off a face-plant free landing anyway. So, I stepped out my front door and made my way to Aiden’s, unsure if I should let myself in or wait for him.

I didn’t have long to wonder—his footsteps came quick, and he opened the door with that easy smile.

Standing next to him, I realized just how tall he was. I felt a little childlike, looking up at him.

“How tall are you, anyway?” I asked.

Aiden chuckled. “Six-foot-four. And no, I never played basketball.”

I belly laughed as I followed him inside.

Though our townhomes shared an identical layout, stepping into Aiden’s space felt like entering a completely different world. I glanced around the common area, taking everything in. It had all the hallmarks of a bachelor pad, as expected, but it was tidier than I anticipated. No laundry piles, no mystery odors—just a few beer cans and dishes scattered about, and a couple of flattened pizza boxes tucked behind the trash can.

I followed Aiden through the kitchen and out to the patio as he grabbed two plates and sets of silverware for the steaks and loaded baked potatoes. The warm evening air carried the scent of grilling meat, but what really caught me off guard was the subtle whiff of his cologne as he moved past me—a perfect blend of citrus and spice that made my face flush.

“Thank you,” I said softly as he handed me a plate. I took a seat in one of the patio chairs, setting my wine glass on the side table, waiting for him to join me.

When he sat down, his arm brushed against mine. He smiled, and I couldn’t help but return it. It surprised me how natural it all felt—his presence, our ease together. There wasn’t a trace of awkwardness, just a kind of quiet comfort that settled between us.

As we ate, I noticed his hands—roughened slightly around the knuckles, likely from years of work as a mechanic, but otherwise soft, almost surprisingly so. There was something gentle in the way he moved, even in the way he passed the salt or adjusted his chair. I found myself leaning in a little, drawn to the quiet calm of him.

As we ate in comfortable silence, the golden hues of the sunset stretched across the lake, casting everything in a soft, warm glow. I glanced toward my patio and spotted Thor, my sweet dog, sitting patiently at the glass door, waiting for me to return. The sight made me smile.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Aiden watching me instead of the view.

“You have beautiful eyes,” he said quietly.

My face flushed with warmth. “Thank you,” I replied, caught off guard but touched.

A beat passed, and then Aiden rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening. “Did I say that out loud?” he asked, half-laughing as he buried his face in his hands.

“Yes,” I said, laughing with him. “But it was sweet.”

Aiden peeked at me through his fingers, grinning. “Well, now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself…”

I laughed and took a sip of my wine. “Not at all. This is really lovely. I’m enjoying your company—thank you for this.”

“I’m just glad I managed to impress you,” Aiden said with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Oh, so this was a performance?” I teased. “Should I be scoring you on presentation and flavor?”

He leaned back in his chair with mock confidence, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “I’d say I’m aiming for a solid eight. Nine if you go back for seconds.”

“We’ll see,” I smirked. “The night’s still young.”

We laughed and talked for another half hour until I heard Thor pawing at the patio door next door, his soft whines carrying over. I didn’t want the night to end, but I also didn’t want to overstay my welcome.

“Thank you again for tonight,” I said, standing. “When can I see you again?”

Aiden looked up from clearing the plates, his expression hopeful. “Want to hang out again on Friday?”

I smiled and nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll take care of these,” he added, gesturing to my plate and silverware as he headed toward the kitchen.

I followed him through the house to the front door. “Thanks again,” I said, offering a shy side hug before stepping outside.

Back in my house, Thor bounded over, tail wagging like crazy. I crouched down to rub his belly, clipping on his collar and leash for his nightly walk. As we stepped out under the stars, the cool night air brushed against my skin, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

Something about tonight felt different. And for the first time in a while, I felt like something good was just beginning.

As I walked up my driveway to head back inside, I heard Aiden call my name. I turned to see him stepping out of his front door, holding the wine glass I’d brought over earlier.

“You forgot this,” he said with a soft smile.

“Sorry about that,” I said, a little bashfully. I let Thor back into the house, then stepped forward to take the glass from Aiden. Our fingers brushed, and for a brief second, we locked eyes.

Something shifted in that moment—unspoken, electric.

Before I could second-guess myself, the words tumbled out. “Do you want to come in?”

He didn’t hesitate. He nodded.

I reached for his hand, guiding him toward my front door. Once inside, I set the glass on the side table and looked up at him again—really looked.

That was all it took.

He cupped my face gently, like I was something fragile, and kissed me. Soft at first, then deeper, longer—until we were both breathless. I could feel his heartbeat racing and mirroring my own.

We didn’t say a word as we made our way to the living room—the silence between us filled with unspoken understanding. A trail of clothes marked our path, telling the rest of the story without a single sentence.

With the blinds already drawn for the night, we found each other in the quiet hush of my home. We made love on the couch, slowly at first, then with the kind of intensity that only deepened as the hours passed. The chemistry between us crackled—effortless, electric, undeniable.

Aiden stayed the night, and neither of us minded the way time slipped by unnoticed. By the time we finally drifted off, the earliest light of dawn was already beginning to spill into the sky.

A few short hours later, my phone alarm buzzed—Thor’s morning walk and the workday calling like clockwork. We both stirred, heavy-limbed and sleep-deprived, but wrapped in the kind of exhaustion that only follows a night well spent.

Aiden pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and whispered, “I don’t want to go, but I should probably get ready for work too.”

I nodded, reluctant to break the quiet comfort of the morning. He stood and began gathering his clothes from the night before while I ran a brush through my hair, scooped up my own clothes from the floor, and tossed them into the hamper. After a quick change, I grabbed Thor’s leash and clipped it onto his collar.

Aiden met us at the door, still buttoning his shirt, and stepped outside with us as I prepared for Thor’s morning walk.

As Aiden walked back to his house, I stood in the doorway and watched him go, a soft ache blooming in my chest. The night felt like a dream—so tender and fleeting—that it made the day’s usual stressors feel far away, weightless.

I wasn’t sure what to call what we had. I wouldn’t have labeled it a committed relationship. He had his world—his job, his cars, his weekend car shows that sometimes took him away for days at a time. I had mine—my work, my routines, and Thor always faithfully by my side.

Still, we found one another in the quiet in-between moments. Dinners shared. Lingering touches. Nights that blurred into mornings. But as time passed, our leases ended just months apart, and without ever saying goodbye, we drifted. Life, as it always does, moved on.

After the summer came and went, I was left with small, unexpected reminders of what we shared. The grilling seasonings in my pantry still carried the scent of those easy, laughter-filled evenings on our patios. For a while, the faint trace of Aiden’s cologne lingered on the throw pillows where we had curled up together, a ghost of closeness that made me smile and ache at the same time. I’d think of him every time I turned the key in my car, remembering how he had changed my brake pads and topped off my oil without ever making a fuss—just the quiet care of someone who saw me and wanted to help.

Those little things became souvenirs of a season that kept me young, that reminded me I could still feel giddy, desired, and seen. It wasn’t forever, but it was real while it lasted. And sometimes, that’s enough. That summer taught me that even fleeting moments can leave a lasting imprint—one that makes you believe in love all over again.