I hurried back to my apartment, shutting the door behind me before pressing my phone tightly against my chest. My heart was racing; loud and wild, as if it had a mind of its own.
Is it going to be like this every time I'm with him?
Letting out a frustrated groan, I grabbed a pillow from the sofa, crouched down, and buried my face into it. A muffled scream escaped me, releasing just a fraction of the emotions swirling inside.
When I finally lifted my head, I was met with two pairs of eyes staring at me; one wide with concern, the other with sheer judgment.
Cleo, my husky, looked genuinely horrified, her brown eyes practically screaming, "Not this again, Mom." Meanwhile, Lucky, my ever-loyal emotional support dog, just stared straight at me, her usual calm and knowing gaze filled with concern. Without hesitation, she walked over, silently asking to be carried.
I scooped her up, feeling the familiar warmth of her little body against mine. She was always like this... always there, always worried about me whenever I was scared, sad, or on the verge of tears. Lucky curled up beside me, as if shielding me from whatever nonsense my brain was spiraling into. And Cleo? She wasn't one for dramatics, but she still settled quietly on the floor next to us, her presence grounding me in her own way.
My two black dogs—one a Pomeranian, the other a Husky. My whole world.
It had always been the three of us against everything. And if someone couldn't accept that, then they had no place in my life.
But then my thoughts drifted back to Tyler—Tyler and his dog, Tequila.
He was the same, wasn't he? His world revolved around his dog, just like mine did around these two.
Tyler and Tequila, huh... Would they accept us?
I shot up from the sofa, shaking my head as if to physically rid myself of the thought.
"What am I thinking?! No. No. No! He's just a kind neighbor..."
...An irresistibly good-looking neighbor.
Groaning, I grabbed the pillow again and smothered my face with it, knowing full well my cheeks were burning.
Get it together, Kz. Play it cool. I don't fawn over guys just because they're stupidly attractive. That is not who I am. If I don't stop this, I'll just end up regretting it. Again.
Determined to push these ridiculous thoughts out of my head, I jumped to my feet and grabbed my dogs' leashes.
"It might be a little early for your walk, guys, but Mommy needs to clear her head. I need some fresh air. Let's go!"
Lucky wagged her tail, happy to follow, while Cleo lazily stretched before getting up.
Yes. A walk. That was exactly what I needed.
Because if I stayed inside any longer, I was going to lose my mind.
After my much-needed walk at the park, I returned to the apartment with Lucky and Cleo, both looking exhausted. As soon as I set their bowls down, they drank a little, curled up in their usual spots, and drifted off to sleep. Watching their peaceful faces, I felt my own exhaustion creeping in. With a soft sigh, I lay down beside them, letting sleep pull me under.
By the time I woke up, the sun was already high, and my stomach growled in protest. I stretched lazily before heading to the kitchen, browsing through the ingredients in my fridge. As I scanned the shelves, an idea popped into my mind, something I could make for Tyler to make up for this early morning's... incident.
Cooking was one of the few skills I had confidence in, and if I was going to extend a small gesture of thanks, I might as well do it with something I was good at.
Adobo.
The thought came naturally. A Filipino classic, one of the first dishes I learned to cook and one that carried so many warm memories from home. But instead of the traditional version, I decided to put my own spin on it.
Slow Cooker Adobo Pulled Pork Sandwiches.
"Good thing I have everything I need," I murmured, a small smile curling at the edge of my lips. It felt good to do something I loved, and somehow, cooking for someone else always made the process a little more special.
But this is just a simple neighborly gesture, I reminded myself. That's all.
I got to work immediately, pulling out a slab of pork shoulder and prepping the marinade. The scent of vinegar, soy sauce, garlic, and bay leaves filled the kitchen as I mixed them together in a bowl, my hands working from muscle memory. I massaged the marinade into the pork, making sure every inch was coated in that familiar, savory goodness before placing it in the slow cooker.
As the meat cooked low and slow, the aroma of adobo started to seep into every corner of my apartment, making my stomach growl again. The smell was intoxicating—the perfect balance of tangy, salty, and garlicky goodness. Every now and then, I checked the pot, turning the meat gently, watching as it softened and absorbed all the flavors.
By the time it was done, the pork was fall-apart tender, practically melting at the touch of my fork. I shredded it into juicy, flavorful strands and let it soak up the remaining sauce before piling it onto soft, toasted buns. A drizzle of extra sauce, a quick slaw for some crunch, and just like that, my Slow Cooker Adobo Pulled Pork Sandwiches were ready.
I looked at my handiwork, feeling a quiet sense of accomplishment.
Now came the tricky part.
Delivering this to Tyler without making a fool of myself.
And then it hit me, I needed to go down there to use his bathroom.
Ugh. Not this again.
My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder of my growing nervousness and embarrassment. I wished he'd be somewhere else so I could just drop off the sandwiches on his counter and leave, no awkward encounters necessary.
But I had another wedding hosting gig, and I needed to get ready earlier than usual. Like it or not, I had to use Tyler's apartment to prepare.
Face your fears. I tried to hype myself up. You can do this.
We already talked about this, and I had his key. It wasn't a big deal. I wasn't intruding. I even set aside some of the pulled pork for Lucky and Cleo and a small sandwich for Tequila. She was the princess of his apartment, after all, so it was only fitting.
Wait. Was this a bribe?
I quickly shook off the thought. No. It didn't mean anything. It was just a way to lessen the favors I owed him. That's all. Right?
I packed my bathroom essentials in a bag, carefully placed the sandwiches on a plate, and headed downstairs.
Now, standing in front of his door, I felt my knees weaken. My pulse raced. Keep a straight face. Don't act weird. I took a breath and knocked softly.
*Knock. Knock.*
"Tyler?" I called out in the quietest voice.
Silence.
I knocked again. No response.
Frowning, I stared at the door before trying the knob. Locked.
Is he not home?
After a moment's hesitation, I pulled out the key, unlocked the door, and peeked inside. The apartment was empty.
A small, unexpected wave of disappointment washed over me. I had no idea why.
"I'll be around to use the bathroom. Help yourself to the adobo pulled pork sandwiches. Lessen this to the favors I owe you! Four left!
- Kz 😝"
Still feeling slightly unsettled, I grabbed my things and headed to the bathroom.
By the time I finished showering and stepped out, the apartment was still quiet. No sign of Tyler or Tequila. But as I walked past the counter, I noticed something... the sandwiches were gone. The plate was washed and set aside.
And in its place was a small note:
"This was really good. Thanks for dinner. Tequila liked it too. Left no crumbs."
I wasn't sure if he'd been here the whole time, just giving me space, or if he had deliberately avoided another awkward interaction with me. But one thing was certain, knowing that they enjoyed my cooking made the nerves I felt earlier seem silly. I traced the words with my fingertips, letting out a quiet satisfied sigh.
It had always meant something special to me when people enjoyed my cooking... it was my way of sharing a piece of myself. Either way, I was grateful for the silent exchange.
With one last glance around the apartment, I grabbed my things and headed for the door, my heart feeling just a little lighter than before.
I let out a small breath, a smile curling at my lips. Maybe this was nothing. Just a simple exchange between neighbors.
But still, it meant something to me.