PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter XV: Hello Cute Neighbor

I Skipped some time during the night. We slept in the flets, planning to continue the journey the next morning. Haldir promised to take the Fellowship to Caras Galadhon, the heart of Lothlórien. When I'd met them five years ago, Elladan and Elrohir had talked about taking me to Caras Galadhon, but I'd Skipped before we'd arrived. While I was not a fan of Lothlórien and its eerie atmosphere, I did want to see the city of the mallorn tree. Of course, since when did the Skips care what I wanted?

That night, I had closed my eyes for a short rest, looking forward to seeing the famed city at last, but when I woke up, I was lying on cement, taking a nap in an empty parking space.

"She's awfully young to be homeless," someone said.

"Poor thing. Should we call the police? I don't think she's allowed to sleep there."

"Isn't that dangerous? She could get run over."

"Ew. I wouldn't want some homeless girl on the tires of my car!"

I sat up and brushed some dirt out of my hair. I glanced over at the passers-by and some middle school girls actually squeaked in fear. I rolled my eyes.

After waving at them, I got to my feet and made my way across the parking lot. How many times had I Skipped back and forth from this parking lot? It had all started with my job interview at the restaurant. Since then, I'd survived Caradhras and then watched the Fellowship die, I'd escape Rivendell with the Company and then almost been killed by thunder giants, and I'd ended up in Moria with the living Fellowship only to have Gandalf fall into the abyss with the balrog.

I leaned back against a brick wall and let out a long sigh. I'd Skipped from this parking lot three times. Three times over… How long must it have been? Almost two weeks? God. Almost two weeks' worth of Skipping back and forth, and I still hadn't found even a trace of Nick and Bonnie.

The strip mall was bustling with life. I watched a middle-aged couple walk into a clothing store, holding hands, and a mother take her baby from his car seat and place him in his stroller. I closed my eyes.

Nothing. For that sweet moment, there was nothing. I wasn't expected to do anything in Ohio; no one yelling at me for missing classes or work. I wasn't running for my life or being called crazy in Middle Earth. Nothing. For that one moment, I was completely at peace.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing in the Inn of the Prancing Pony.

Well, so much for that.

The inn was so crowded and full of life that no one noticed a short, blonde woman appearing out of thin air. I stood in the back corner of the inn's main hall, removed from the people, ale, and festive cheer. A man lifted a hobbit up onto a barstool. The hobbit laughed and ordered a round of drinks on him. A woman cackled loudly at some story her companion told, while a group of hobbits gossiped by the fireplace. A lone, majestic dwarf sat alone at a wooden table, helping himself to a plate of food and reading something on a worn piece of parchment. In case you haven't guessed, that lone, majestic dwarf was none other than Thorin Oakenshield.

I made my way through the crowds of the inn, careful not to knock over anyone's drinks and cause a bar fight. When I reached Thorin's table, tucked away in the corner of the hall, I rested my elbows on the back of the empty wooden chair opposite him. Grinning broadly, I said, "Fancy meeting you here."

His eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise and then immediately narrowed in annoyance. He picked up the worn piece of parchment from the table and folded it carefully before slipping it into his rucksack on the floor. "Why must you insist on following me?"

"I'm not following you," I said indignantly. "I told you, I Skip. I can't control where I end up, you know that." I squinted suspiciously at Thorin. "What time is it? When was the last time we met?"

"You appeared in the Blue Mountains," said Thorin, "and requested that I aid you in your search for your friends."

"Oh." I settled in the empty chair before he could try to send me away. "So we haven't gotten to the majestic discussion yet."

The corners of Thorin's mouth twitched ever so slightly.

"Don't worry," I said. "In the coming days or weeks or months—I'm not sure what time it is—I'm going to inflate your ego. By a lot."

"The warning is most appreciated," said Thorin.

My eyes narrowed. "Is that sarcasm I detect?"

Thorin didn't answer and only asked, "What brings you to Bree, Ana?"

I sighed. "I told you. I Skip. I have no control over where I end up. One moment I'll be fighting trolls, the next I'll be drinking with frigging elves in Rivendell or waking up on the sidewalk while a mother and child gawk at me. Like I said, no control."

Thorin he took a sip of his ale and said no more.

"What brings you to Bree?" I asked.

"When you visited in the Blue Mountains, you heard the purpose of this meeting."

I paused, trying remember what had been discussed in the Blue Mountains beside chopping off my head to make me Skip. Finally, I asked, "Erebor?"

A grim nod was my only response.

"So, you're meeting with Gandalf the about Erebor?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Isn't that exciting? You'll get to see the halls of Erebor once again—the stone carvings and mountain of gold—once you get past the dragon, of course." I hesitated. The memory of Legolas's words was still fresh in my mind, and at the Council of Elrond as well, Glóin had told me of the dwarves' success, but he had also hinted at Thorin's future. It wasn't a happy future. I lowered my gaze and said, "Erebor is beautiful."

"Yes," said Thorin. "No one knows that better than me."

I forced my mouth into a smile. "What was it like? Before. I've only ever seen Erebor when haunted by a dragon. But I want to know. What was Erebor like in all its splendor?"

Thorin watched me for a moment, a curious look in his blue eyes. Perhaps he was wondering whether I was worth telling this too. However, he must have decided in my favor, because Thorin leaned back in his chair, took a sip of ale, and said, "If you were to empty the Lonely Mountain of all its gold, of all its gemstones and jewels and metals, it would still be the most wondrous place in this world. The Dwarf Kingdom was carved out from the heart of the mountain. The walls are the colors of blackened emeralds, and when the golden sunlight shines through the windows of the mountain walls, the pillars and floors and ceilings transform into the purest green. Green and gold were the colors of the mountain…and white. White for the most precious gem of all—the Arkenstone."

There was a faraway look in Thorin's blue eyes, as though he was actually standing in the caverns of Erebor and witnessing the King's Hall filled with golden light. A faint smile played at his lips, but Thorin seemed not to notice.

"I have stood in a hall filled from floor to ceiling with gold, silver, and gems beyond price," said Thorin, "and yet my gaze was ensnared by the Arkenstone. It shines from within, emitting a white light that is pure and untouched by the evils of this world." Thorin took a deep breath. "You cannot imagine it."

"It sounds beautiful," I murmured.

"There are some things in this world," said Thorin, "that I cannot describe to you. I can tell you of the land that once belonged to the king of carven stone, the lord of silver fountains, but you will never understand its true wonders. You can wander the halls of the Lonely Mountain yourself, but that does not mean you will understand how beautiful the Lonely Mountain is to me and my kin." Thorin finally turned his sight away from the distant halls and met my gaze. "The Lonely Mountain is our home. And we have waited long, so long, for this chance. We have stood on the cliffs of the Misty Mountains and gazed across the expanse of Mirkwood to see the barest tip of the Lonely Mountain." Thorin's face twisted ever so slightly. "You, right now, cannot imagine the pain. To be able to look upon our home, but know that we cannot return. Our home. Our wondrous home has been lost for so long."

"But you're going to reclaim it," I said.

Thorin's mouth curled into a smile. His eyes moved beyond me—to look at someone standing behind me—and he became serious again. I twisted in my seat and saw the familiar wrinkled face of Gandalf the Gray.

I stiffened. My whole body was frozen, as if someone had grabbed hold of my heart and squeezed it tight, suffocating me from within. It was too soon. Far too soon. My last memory of Gandalf involved him falling off a bridge in the grasp of a balrog. Oh God, what should I do? Should I warn Gandalf? But this was in the time of the Company, too far in the past, right? What could I tell him? Not to enter the Mines of Moria? But that was the only want the Fellowship could survive. Would it ruin the future if I told Gandalf how he dies?

Gandalf was staring, waiting for me to speak. So, in the end, I managed a weak, "Hi. Long time no see."

Gandalf's eyes narrowed. "Have we met before? I do not recall."

"Ana Stonbit." I gulped and said, "I've met you, but I guess you haven't met me yet."

"Thorin Oakenshield." Rather than broach the subject of the meeting, Gandalf looked me over with suspicion before saying, "I have requested this meeting for a very specific and secretive purpose. Perhaps we may discuss such matters in a more private setting."

Thorin nodded. "As you see fit."

With another scrutinizing glance at me, Gandalf moved across the hall to request a private room from the innkeeper. The innkeeper was more than happy to oblige Gandalf's wishes, and a private chamber was swiftly prepared. Without asking, I followed Thorin and Gandalf up the stairs to the small chamber containing a roughly carved wooden table and four chairs. The room was lit by only candles and on the table rested a jug of wine and two empty cups. Thorin entered the room, and I was about to follow when Gandalf stopped me with his staff.

"These are private matters, Miss Stonbit," said Gandalf.

"Relax, I already know that you're going to convince Thorin to go on a quest to reclaim Erebor." I tried to push Gandalf's staff out of the way, but that thing was immovable.

Gandalf didn't even register my attempt to move the staff, and instead, he turned to stare at Thorin. "She knows of your purpose here?"

Thorin, who had already taken a seat and was helping himself to glass of wine, mere glanced at Gandalf and said, "She is well aware of the situation, and it can do us no harm for her to be present. Appearances can be deceiving. She knows many things."

"You will vouch for her?" asked Gandalf.

Thorin nodded once. "I will."

Beaming, I moved past Gandalf and settled down into the chair beside Thorin. I like to think my asking him to describe Erebor had given him a more positive attitude towards me.

"Do I get any wine?" I asked.

"There are only two glasses," said Thorin. "No."

I practically wilted with disappointment, but I didn't want to give Thorin any reason to throw me out, so I decided to go without the wine.

"You come," said Thorin almost as soon as Gandalf was seated, "concerning the dragon, Smaug."

"Yes," said Gandalf with a wary glance in my direction. "As you know, I was the last to see King Thráin alive. Before his disappearance, I urged your father to gather the seven clans—as he did so long ago after the death of Thrór—and march upon Erebor. However, King Thráin had grown restless. As you know, the memory of Erebor disturbed him greatly. He did not heed my advice and instead wandered into the Wilderland with only a few of his most loyal guards. There he was taken."

I glanced at Thorin, noting the fixed expression on his face. Thorin took a sip of wine and then said, "You would give me the same advice."

"Yes," said Gandalf. "Call together the Seven Houses of Durin. Call together the Longbeards, the Firebeards, the Broadbeams, the Blacklocks, the Stonefoots, the Ironfists, and the Stiffbeards. Call them to your aid and march upon Erebor—reclaim the homeland that was taken from you."

I watched Gandalf curiously and found that I didn't trust him. Even if I had traveled Caradhras, the Gap of Rohan, and Moria with this wizard, I did not trust the advice he was giving. Apparently, Thorin didn't trust him either, because Thorin said, "Why are you so keen for the death of Smaug?"

Gandalf leaned back in his chair. "There is some great evil brewing in Dol Guldur. I do not like the possibility that Smaug stirring from his nest to ally with this evil."

This seemed like a pretty legitimate reason to me. I glanced at Thorin, waiting for his response. I knew that Thorin would agree (and end up in Bilbo Baggins' hobbithole), but it was interesting to watch the unrest in his eyes as he considered Gandalf's proposal.

"The other Houses will not come," said Thorin at last. "They will not fight a dragon for the sake of regaining the Lonely Mountain. They still suffer the wounds of the War of Dwarves and Orcs, and they will not risk the lives from a kingdom they consider lost."

"Then call to those who will come," said Gandalf.

I cringed, knowing full well that only twelve dwarves and a hobbit would answer Thorin's call.

"I will aid you, Thorin Oakenshield," added Gandalf. "In what ways that I can."

That was the turning point. The promise of a wizard gave Thorin's quest hope. Thorin lifted his eyes to meet Gandalf's, and grimly, he said, "I accept."

Gandalf nodded. "Good. Very good."

The next hour was spent with Thorin and Gandalf running over the details of the quest. I was afraid to interrupt, frightened that I might reveal the future to one of them or that they would kick me out. At first, I listened attentively, but when they started going over details like provisions and transport, I found myself losing interest. Eventually, my gaze wandered to Gandalf. I could not keep away the memory of him, consumed in flames, falling to the might of the balrog. The pain—my own and that of the Fellowship—filled me again and I had to look away. I could not decide whether or not to tell Gandalf the outcome of his venture into Moria. But then, I pictured the Fellowship journeying through the Gap of Rohan and the tragedy that would occur. Merry's blank, lifeless eyes stared at me.

I leaned forward and buried my face in my hands. I had to focus on breathing properly. In and out. Calm. Easy. Once I had my breathing under control, I sat upright again and kept my face a mask. If Gandalf or Thorin had noticed my meltdown, neither one showed it.

It was a relief when Gandalf departed. He promised to see Thorin in Bag End and said nothing but a curt farewell to me. I didn't tell him that we were going to meet at Bag End as well.

The door closed behind Gandalf, and I collapsed into my wooden chair, the pressure to tell him his future had finally disappeared. I rolled my head to the side, trying to get any muscle pains out of my neck, and saw that Thorin was watching me.

"So it has begun," I said before he could ask me about my emotional state. "This is beginning."

"Yes," said Thorin, his voice strangely grim. "The quest for the Lonely Mountain has begun."

Slowly, Thorin got to his feet and moved to the corner of the room where his leather bag rested against the wall. He opened the bag and rummaged through its contents until he pulled out a piece of folded parchment. It took me a second to realize that it was the worn parchment he had been reading downstairs. I peered curiously at the paper, but Thorin had the writing turned away from me.

"What's that?" I asked.

Thorin stood over the flickering candles. He stared into the flames for a moment, turned so that I could only see half of his face.

He placed the edge of the paper into the flames of the candle. I watched as the flames leapt onto the parchment. The always curious part of me wanted to take the paper from Thorin and read what it said, but judging by his grim expression, I was almost certain he would force me to Skip. We watched the paper spark and burn, and only when the flames approached his fingers did Thorin release the paper and watch it disappear entirely.

"Why would you do that?" I asked.

I asked without expecting an answer, and sure enough, Thorin didn't give me one. He stared at the dark ashes that were the last remnants of the letter.

Skip.

Once again, I found myself sitting in the parking lot of the strip mall. Two women, their arms full of shopping bags, swore at the sudden sight of me. I waved at them, half-heartedly, my mind still in the Inn of the Prancing Pony, watching Thorin burn the carefully folded parchment.

I sighed. I would have to ask him about it someday.

Ignoring the people staring at me and my bizarre clothes, I pulled my cellphone out of my back pocket, switched it on, and called my mom. She came to get me in her little green Toyota. It took a whole five seconds for her to start lecturing me on my random disappearances. (The first five seconds were for her to hug me and say how much she missed me.)

"You were going to a job interview!" cried Mom. "Galin and I waited for you at dinner—nothing. We texted you, we called you—nothing. Where have you been? What are you wearing? Where did you get that outfit?"

"Did you report me as missing?" I asked, deciding it was best to ignore the clothes question entirely.

My mother glanced at me sidelong and then turned her attention back to the road. "No, we didn't think about that. You disappear too often, Ana. If we called the police every time you went missing, at some point they would just keep you permanently on the missing persons list."

"Good point," I said. "I just, um, got distracted on the road of life."

My mom rolled her eyes. "That is the worst excuse you've given."

"Yeah." I paused. "Mom, I want to return to my apartment."

"Your apartment? Why? You don't want to stay with us?" She swallowed and then said, a little more gently, "You've barely been home. We want to spend time with you, talk to you. Are we so unbearable that you have to leave all the time?"

"No," I said. "I just want to return to my apartment, but independent and all that."

"Ana…"

"I'll get a job. I'll pay for part of the rent. I just—I need to go back there."

"Ana."

"I have horrible college habits," I said. "I'm messy and slobbish and you…you don't want to live with me like that."

"You've always been messy and slobbish."

"Yeah, but it's gotten even worse since I went away to college. It's a serious problem. Like a disease. Let me get help for my problems on my own. Then I'll come back. When I have my slobbishness under control, I'll come home, okay?"

My mom shook her head. "Ana, we're here to help you. If you confide in us, we can help. It's best to deal with these things surrounded by people who love you and care for you. Not going off on your own and saying you got lost on the road of life."

I shook my head. There were no honest words to answer her, so I only said, "My slobbishness is embarrassing. I don't want you to see me in this state."

Mom let out a long sigh. "All right. But let your dad drive with you back to your apartment tomorrow. Just so we know you got there safely."

I bit my bottom lip. I'd rather just drive myself back to the apartment and be left alone with my thoughts, but if it would set my parents' minds at ease, then I supposed I could let Dad take me back. "All right."

"You'll stay the night with us, right?" she asked.

"That depends," I said. "What's for dinner?"

"Broccoli soup."

"Sorry, Mom. It's an emergency. I need to head out tonight. Right away. I can't even stay for dinner."

She laughed. "I'm joking. We're having chicken casserole."

"Well…" I gave her an impish smile. "I guess it's not that important. I can stay long enough for chicken casserole. We can't let it go to waste now, can we?"

"You're ridiculous."

I grinned. "But that's why you love me."

I turned the radio up and returned to staring out the window. Dad kept his hands on the steering wheel, and his eyes fixed on the road. Neither one of us spoke. My dad has always been a man of few words, though, so that was not unusual. What was unusual was my silence. Normally, I would be prattling on about ugly refrigerator magnets or the color of milk or something random like that. But not that day. My eyes were fixed on the farmlands outside the window, and my mind was back in Middle Earth.

Gandalf. He could not stay dead. He should not have died. The Fellowship died when they went through the Gap of Rohan, but I had changed that. Gandalf should not have died in Moria. If I told him about his future perhaps he could change something. I would have to explain that the Mines of Moria were still the only safe passage, but perhaps he could battle the balrog in a different place or perhaps there was a different route through the mines. Another way… There had to be another way…

I ran my hand through my messy hair, brushing it out of my eyes.

I could save Gandalf. I would save Gandalf.

"Are you okay?" My dad watched me through the corner of his blue eyes.

"Me?" I said. "Yeah."

"You're quiet."

"So, those refrigerator magnets Mom's got. They're pretty ugly, right?"

Dad shook his head. "I think I might've preferred you when you were quiet."

I laughed. "I talk like Mom, huh?"

"Worse."

"Ouch. That's pretty bad, then. Sorry. I don't mean to. You know me—I just start talking and I never stop. It's kind of ridiculous when you think about it. Oh hey! I love this song!" I turned up the radio. My dad made a face at the alternative rock music. I grinned. "Right, you only like the classic stuff. You should open your mind a little. You're as stubborn as a dwarf."

"A dwarf?" My dad glanced at me. "Where did that come from?"

"You know…" I silently cursed. I really had to learn to keep Middle Earth separate from Ohio. "Some TV show Bonnie was showing me. She likes those fantasy shows. Not really my thing. I'm rom coms all the way."

Dad hesitated for a second and then let out a long sigh. "You talk too much."

"You don't talk enough," I said. "We're even like that."

My dad nodded but didn't respond. I turned up the radio another notch and returned to staring out the window.

Where would I Skip to next? I didn't know. I never knew. I could end up in Mordor or the Wilderlands a year after Gandalf's death, and I wouldn't be able do anything to change it then. Hanging out with Thorin and Company would be best, I supposed; Gandalf was usually with them. And of course, I still had to find Bonnie and Nick. God, there was so much to do in Middle Earth. But there was so much to do in Ohio as well. I also had to find a job so I could pay my share of the rent on my apartment, and I had to figure out how I was going to finish getting my undergraduate degree.

After another hour of listening to the alternative rock radio station, we arrived outside my apartment. My dad found an empty spot to park and then helped me carry my suitcase up the five flights of stairs. After I was settled and we'd grabbed lunch at a nearby deli, we headed to the station so that Dad could catch a bus back home.

When the bus pulled up on the curb, my dad turned to me and said, "Remember, don't do anything stupid. Stay safe. Find work. Don't miss important dates."

"I know," I said. "I'll try."

Dad smiled. "You're a good girl, Ana. Your mom and I know that."

"You just wish I wasn't so irresponsible."

"No, we wish your life weren't so complicated."

I shook my head. "So do I, Dad. So do I."

He gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek before boarding the bus. I waved good-bye and waited until the bus was out of sight before I headed back to my apartment building.

You know, in the beginning, I'd always hated the fact that my apartment was up five flights of stairs. There was no elevator, and usually by the last flight of stairs, I would be huffing and puffing. But after my treks across Middle Earth, I found the five flights of stairs fairly easy to climb. Within no time and still breathing easily, I found myself on the fifth floor…and face to face with an adorable new tenant.

"Hello?" I said.

He smiled at me.

Okay. Let me make this clear. My ideal guy has short dark hair, blue eyes, defined features, not over six foot (the height difference would be obnoxious), and a cheerful personality. This adorable new tenant: Had short-cropped dark hair. Okay, so he had hazel eyes, but I could live with that. Good facial features. He smiled at me, so he must be cheerful. And he was under six foot. Oh my God! Shoot me with Cupid's arrow right then and there.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Jack."

"Ana." I smiled and tried to look cute. "Apartment 604. Are you new here? I've never seen you here before."

"Moved in a week ago. Apartment 605."

"I'm Ana—but I said that already. Wow. That's awkward. Yeah, I was visiting my parents for awhile. That's why I haven't been here." I gulped. I was talking too quickly and giving information he hadn't asked for. Okay. I needed to slow down. "Are you enjoying the apartment so far?"

Jack smiled politely. "The apartment is good. Comfy. Not too small. My last place was cramped, and I was living with a friend on top of that."

"Yeah, these are good apartments. My sophomore year in college, I had this tiny apartment—a hobbit couldn't live in there—" I paused. Oops. This was Ohio. I needed to stick with Ohio terminology… What was Ohio terminology? I couldn't remember anymore. "So, since that place sucked, I moved into a new place six months later, and here I've been ever since."

"Life story in ten seconds," said Jack with a laugh.

"Oh, I think my life story takes longer than ten seconds…a lot longer. Three days and three nights is a conservative estimate."

"That good?"

"Definitely."

"Do I get to hear it sometime?"

"Er—Maybe." I'd never told my story to anyone in Ohio, not my parents, not my best friends, not any of my boyfriends. Jack, as cute as he was, wasn't going to be the first person to hear my life story.

"All right," said Jack. "Well, let me know if you ever want to tell it to me some time. I've got to go."

"Right. Let me know if you need anything," I said. "I'm your friendly neighborhood weird girl." I blinked. I really should learn when to stop talking.

"I'll keep that in mind." Jack headed for the staircase.

When he disappeared from sight, I did a little victory dance. Cute guy as my neighbor? Success! This was all I'd wanted. Cute guy as a neighbor meant cute apartment romance, which was the first step in achieving my life goal of being normal.

When dance time was over, I unlocked my apartment and stepped inside. It hadn't changed since I left it over months ago. Clothes were thrown everywhere. The kitchen still had dishes on the drying rack. The remote was still missing. One of the wooden chairs had been knocked over. Great.

I dragged my suitcase to my bedroom and then, without even bothering to unpack, started digging through the dresser drawers. Black jeans. A long white shirt with a belt. Brown leather jacket. Brown boots. Okay, I figured that could pass as almost regular clothing in Middle Earth. My wardrobe consisted of entirely browns, grays, and blacks in outfits that would be passable in both Ohio and Middle Earth. After getting changed, I slipped the Sword Breaker into the side of my boot. It was slightly uncomfortable but I'd rather have it on me than not. Then, I headed for the roof of my apartment building.

My apartment building had six floors and a roof. Technically, tenants weren't allowed on the roof, but the owner would give a key to those of us she liked and we could hang out there whenever we want. After I babysat her pug for a weekend, Laurel had been more than happy to give me a key. Only I didn't usually go up to the roof to hang out. I usually went up there to Skip.

My building was right in between two office buildings. The gap between my building and those was so narrow that I couldn't fit. From another side of the roof, you could see the main street below, but if I jumped from there, I ran a high risk of being spotted from below. The opposite side of the roof looked out onto a less popular side street with only a Mexican restaurant and a fortune-teller's shop below. I figured it was hidden enough that it was safe for jumping.

I crossed the roof and stood on the concrete ledge. I looked down at the street. It was late in the day and there was a surprising amount of people down there—by which I mean there were three. Great. Thankfully, no one thought to look up.

I took a deep breath.

The ground seemed to be moving beneath me. Sometimes it seemed impossibly close and other times it seemed impossibly far away. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Another deep breath.

Dear God, please let me Skip. I didn't want to die splattered on a sidewalk. I wanted to die of old age in a nursing home after having lived a long and normal life.

The world swayed around me, and I felt like throwing up.

I needed to remember that I was doing this for Gandalf, and for Nick and Bonnie. I had to save them. I had to jump off the building, as many times as it took, until I could find them.

I lifted one foot and started to lean forward—

"Don't jump!"

At the sound of a voice, I twisted around to see a cute guy with dark hair, hazel eyes, defined features, not over six foot… Oh God.

Jack stood on the other side of the roof, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

Too late.

I fell off the roof.

Skip.

Well, so much for the possible romance with the cute next-door neighbor.