Your neighbor, the fuckboy (preview)
L. S. Kennedy
"He's a sweet boy," Edith had told you, "Very popular with the ladies."
"Nice lad, moves a little too fast for my liking." Seamus had said.
It was a Saturday night by the time you got around to knocking on your neighbor's door. You gave a standard three knocks and waited a second, then a minute, and then five minutes. You were sure he wasn't coming to the door, even though you could hear what sounded like multiple people inside. You were about to turn away when the door flew open, the sight catching you by surprise.
The door opened revealing a man, haircut like he was in a 90s boyband framing his face, toned chest - shirtless you could see, behind the woman who was wrapped around his waist, legs clinging onto him and face buried in his neck. His cheeks were flushed, and he had the proudest smirk on his face, beautifully white teeth too.
"Sorry," he started, although you doubt he really meant it, "were we being too loud?"
The girl giggled then, a high-pitched giggle you thought only pornstars used when they wanted to be dramatic.
"Um n-no," you broke eye contact with him, looking past his face into his apartment, trying to gain some semblance of comfort in this extremely uncomfortable situation, "you're the only person on the floor I haven't met yet, but now is obviously a bad time so-"
You broke off your thoughts and turned around immediately.
You could hear his booming laugh echo down the hall behind you.
"Name's Leon," he barked just as you opened your apartment door and shut it behind you.
The whole interaction left you speechless.
What kind of person would open their front door to a scene like that?