xReader moves with her family to a new town and starts bonding with Joel, an ex military man, who soon grows to be obsessed with her. Their encounters start to grow more bold, after learning that they were sleeping just a few yards away from each other.
Perhaps it was fate that placed the two of them in this town. This boring, old, chatty town where nothing of much importance ever unfolds.
Fresh soil to those who act in such grotesque ways. Scandal likes to take its course ā the smaller the town, the better.
No need to worry, though; everything that happens behind curtains stays hidden, safe and sound.
Your family arrived at noon, the sun still shining bright ā not surprising for an August day in the south of Texas.
It was a mystery to you why your family had to move. Youād be off to college after this summer anyway, so why now? you thought to yourself as you stepped out of the car and took in the new house for the first time. It was big, with a porch that had seen better days, but it had potential ā great potential, in fact.
The kind that came with an old charm. A friendly exterior with neat little windows, and an interior that was just as inviting, complete with creaking floors that only added to its quirky character. Dizzy from the heat, you flopped down on the first seating option you could find ā the old leather couch in your new living room. It came with the house, and you didnāt want to think too much about why the previous owner hadnāt bothered to take it with them.
At least I get to sit down, you thought, staring across the room at the fireplace. Melting into the leather, you drifted into thoughts of last year.
That cruel, awful year. The one that made you want to violently vomit onto the oak panels beneath your feet.
Not many boys had paid attention to you. Youād had one boyfriend, but he wasnāt the best choice youād ever made. After promising to make you love yourself, heād left you more insecure than ever.
Your looks ā if those even mattered ā werenāt your only insecurity. It was also your personality. The very thing that made you you.
Since you were young, youād had a strange relationship with sexuality. For you, it was always tied to shame. A high libido and a Christian upbringing was not the best combination ā what a surprise.
So when Joel introduced himself, you wanted to shake it off. Another older man from Texas with questionable values and the mentality of a Mormon, MAGA-hat-wearing idiot. (In moments like that, you were thankful you hadnāt ended up in Utah.)
But there was something different about him. Something that drew you in.Was it the way he shook your hand ā so steady, his big palm wrapping around yours? Or the glint in his eyes when you said your name, half-shy and half out of breath?
Maybe it was both. Or maybe you were simply suffering from the merciless August sun burning down on your scalp.
Or maybe it was the undeniable fact that he was handsome. Dark curls streaked with silver, warm brown eyes, and a mustache that made him look like one of those ā80s movie stars.
Whatever it was, it left you slightly weak in the knees ā and reminded you that you now had a room with plenty of privacy. And surely, you could make good use of that.
Joel Miller knew what he was doing. Of course he did. He wasnāt a man who thought too much; he acted on instinct.
Not many things could throw him off his steady track.
Then your family arrived, and like metal to a magnet, he found himself pulled toward you.
He had no problem helping carry a few boxes, and soon enough, he knew exactly where fate had led him.
You stood there with your suitcase ā hair messy from the car ride, eyes sleepy and hazy from the heat, cheeks flushed. You smiled as you introduced yourself, and the moment your delicate hand met his, he knew exactly what kind of trouble youād bring.
He had always been a hardworking man, always moving, always helping.
His early years in the military had left him inevitably rough around the edges, with scars of both the physical and emotional kind. At 6'2", broad-shouldered and strong, heād been good material ā reliable in the field until his captain decided otherwise.
At forty-five, it was time to retire. To āsettle down,ā as they called it.Though heād never admit it, that decision had left a bigger wound than anything heād faced in combat.
It had been almost five years since his involuntary retirement. Since then, heād lived in this very town, working with his hands, selling furniture.
Proving himself again as a reliable, helpful, functioning member of society ā the very image of a good American man. Paying his taxes, living in a white wooden house with a picket fenceā¦ and now, with a newly arrived view.
The first thing you noticed when you entered your new room was the big window in the center of the wall. Facing away from the street meant you didnāt have much to look at ā just the tree that separated your house from the neighborās, and a single window across from yours, closed tightly with blinds.
Before you could run to tell your sibling you basically had a brick wall view, the blinds shifted.
Just a little ā as if someone wanted only a sliver of sunlight inside. You stared, transfixed, watching the wooden slats creak. You couldnāt make out who was behind them.
With parted lips, you looked away, feeling like youād seen something forbidden.
āGreat, so much for privacy,ā you sighed.
Later that night, you were curled up beneath your blanket, gaze fixed on the glow from that same window.
Like a moth to a flame, you crept out of bed and peeked over your windowsill.
There ā just for a moment ā you saw it.
A shadow behind the thin curtains. Broad shoulders, tall frame.
Before you could form a thought, the shadow moved, closing the blinds as if caught in the act.
Had they seen you?
Blinking rapidly, feeling exposed and a little embarrassed, you rushed back to bed, pulling the blanket over yourself like it could shield you from whatever lived just a few yards away.
Before you drifted off to sleep, you made a mental note:
Dear diary, Iām in an argument with one of my best friends and I donāt know what to do. This has never happened before either. Iāve been crying because of this since yesterday and canāt find a solution. I mean, I guess there is, but that one makes me really unhappy. The thing is that she does not wanted to be friends with her brother because to her thatās a boundary. I wasnāt aware of that before and now Iām stuck. I donāt want to upset her but he is also dear to me. The past weeks weāve been talking a bit and he makes me feel comfortable and seen. I donāt wanna lose that, and I donāt want to accept to never speak to him again. I also share the same childhood friends with him which makes this even harder. At this moment it feels like Iāve lost both. Furthermore I donāt even know what he thinks about this situation or how he feels, simply because Iām not allowed to talk to him cause this would hurt her trust. This whole situation feels overly dramatic and childish.
Dear diary, I donāt think I will hear from him ever gain. Maybe heās dead. Who knows. Iāve been grieving him for a long time anyway. Time to let go
Dear diary, Rue Bennet is dead. I hate this week already. Why did my precious girl have to die??? Other than that my monday has been shit. Train was late and Iām very sure that my uni crush has a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. The earrings might be a hint.
Iām so sick of feeling like a massive freak. Like I feel as if I need recovery from something that I canāt even pinpoint. Do people need recovery from themselves?
Dear diary, what if Iām too stupid for college? I feel like exam season is already about to approach and Iām not prepared. Wished they could grade me on socialising cause how do I manage to always meet new people? Everyone seems so easy to approach. Last week I even said ābyeā to one of the professors after seeing him walk out of the building. (Was kinda funny though) Everyone but that one guy. I kinda have a big crush on him which shouldnāt be the case cause first: exams and second he smokes too much weed. But his hairā¦ughh itās so cute. I bet he smells though cause he always wears the same sweatshirt, maybe when I keep that in mind Iām less nervous to approach him. All my friends are urging me to do so. Well, my friends from uni at least. The other homegirls are less involved. I talked to Kimberley today and she was in complete shock cause she thought I was only into black guys. Of course that is not true, my type is found in any ethnicity
Dear Diary. Today was weird. My train had to stop in the middle of nowhere due to mechanical defects. thatās why my mom had to come pick me up. My dad has been extra worried these days, about my brother and me. I guess itās normal, now that my aunt has her diagnosis. What if I go to the doctor and they actually find something? What if itās not just all in my head? And what if my brain is actually responsible for this all along?
Iām scared that Iām also epileptic. My dad had his first seizures when he was about my age and letās just say that I tend to derive after my dad which worries me in many ways.
Right now itās raining like crazy and Iām scared to use the blow dryer. I donāt wanna be struck by lightning.
I still wonder what I did wrong. This feels unjust
Dear diary, today we got the news that my aunt has cancer. I donāt even know what to say. My father said that she will probably start chemotherapy soon. I just hope that she will make it. I wonder how my cousins feel at this moment. My uncles, my aunts. Weāve just seen them a few days ago and now everything has changed. Fuck cancer
Well, did you miss me? Life has been so busy and I hate how sick I am. Like omg why does it feel like summer and I still have this stupid cold. Come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn I gotta be hot and I have to study!!! :(
Dear diary, I think the thing Iām scared most of is dying. I know that this fear seems to be kinda predictable since Iām a raging hypochondriac but recently it manifested even more. Maybe itās because its about to be summer and it feels that I have endless opportunities though at the same time I never felt more lonely. I miss my friend, and I miss my safe space. Itās hard to accept that I will never hear from him again
I want him to know that I think about him every time I hyperventilate. I wished youād be there to hold my hand.
I regret that I never got to tell him about the dream I had. I feel as if Iām eaten
Dear diary, is there a better scent than smoke on a summerās night? Right now I cannot think of a better one. I feel better now. Just this morning I thought I had a fever but false alarm. One thing Iām glad about when it comes to this disease is that I donāt have to attend the family function tomorrow. Gosh, how I despise most of them. How come Iām related to them? Close minded, ignorant people.
talking about people that never seem to change; yesterday a guy that I was involved with two years ago started following me. After a short, rather rude interaction I thought it best to block him. I guess some wounds need to stay closed for good.
Dear diary, is it weird that i feel better now that Iām sick? Usually i hate having a cold but now it feels like a relief. Now I get to finally focus on getting better and fight something that I actually have knowledge of.
It also makes me feel more grateful for the beautiful things around me. The warmth on my skin that the sun is providing, the soft grass and the bright flowers that still havenāt faded yet. My garden feels like a sanctuary. Maybe I was wrong about summer. Maybe healing isnāt just reserved for the colder months. Please god let me bloom like the flowers close to me, make me resilient and cheerful
Dear diary, I hate how I feel only cherished when a man appreciates my body. Why do I do these things over and over to myself? There is this at uni that I like. Itās pretty silly actually. I donāt even know his name. Of course my friends are urging me to talk to him but I canāt bring myself to. Iām out there always giving the same excuse of āoh no, I could never. Iām just too shy.ā When in reality I just know that itĀ“s not worth it. He would never actually be interested in me or accept me for who I am. Not even I know what I fully am but already by default I know that Iām unacceptable.
When Iām not my body what even am I to men? From what Iāve learned Iām just a waste of time, a place holder or an awful attempt on replacement of ones former girlfriend.
I hope Iām not destined to be alone. It has always been my greatest fear; being without someone around. Especially now since Iāve been becoming more and more anxious.
I hope I wonāt gain weight this summer. My attempt today was to make pancakes as usually but I kinda failed and I threw away the whole batter. I cried during the whole process because I love pancakes but the thought of my arms getting bigger made me want to throw up.
I donāt hate food, it just scares me. What will happen if I weigh more than 50 kilos? Will i still be desirable? Will I still be a princess even though I no longer fit my dress?
Dear diary, how come I always end up feeling sick? For the past two weeks I have been euphoric about summer. (Dressing slutty, #hotgirlsummer, etc.). But a shift happened. It happened 4 days ago. I went out with my friend for coffee and I'll give you the short version which goes like this. We had our coffee and after arriving at the train station I fell violently ill. Like whole body shaking and stuff. It was super scary and I didn't make it home alone. Three hours later I was still shaking and I still don't know why this happened. I don't wanna blame it on the coffee cause that would be borderline embarrassing and would make the Mormons feel validated in their belief.
I wanna get better so I will probably go see a doctor. I'm scared they will take my blood tho. Maybe they are secretly vampires? Are they? I hope they will test me first at least before slurping away...
Dear diary, unfortunately I was made a terrible materialistic person. I donāt hate it about me though. It probably made me more realistic and strict about certain things, which is a nice contrast for once. The feeling of being able to hold onto something is incredible. Reassuring, steady. when the right emotions are attached to it of course. I remember a few years ago when my mom bought me a hairbrush. It feels silly now that Iām typing it out but I actually cried receiving it. Not in her present of course, but when I was all alone in the safety of my room. I liked the thought that she picked the hairbrush just for me, that it might not been intentional but rather accidental. Just when she walked past an isle she noticed the colours and remembered her daughter in the pastel blue and the pink. I donāt think my mother knows my favourite colour but she is still able to recognise me.
I like the absoluteness of matter, I like that it keeps me warm at night. When I feel sick too my stomach I hold the things that are dear to me, wether itās the tiny figurines or the stuffed animals that were given to me plenty. A few more and I finally have my own army.
A few things you need to get rid off though. Things that carry false hope, dreams that turned into nightmares. I burned the cards that I wanted to give to you. I hope you can forgive me. I sold the figurines that you wanted. They are in better hands now. Not children of divorce but rather orphans, looking for someone more steady. Perhaps my act was selfish, but it eased my heavy heart. It made it slower too. The race is complete now, little heart and there is neither a loser nor winner. After all we are free now.
