A/N: If you read 'IS THIS THE WORST TIME TO KISS YOU?' story, please know that it will be taken down on April 1st to repost for the next few months. I have finished writing it and need to reorganize the chapters. More details on my Facebook page if you follow me there. Thanks!

This next prompt below is a favorite. I heard a story once from a podcast that gripped my heart. This is an Edward and Bella story being told through another's eyes—the neighbors.

The Neighbors

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Here we go #again

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"What are you looking at?"

Samuel turns away and plops himself on the couch. "What? Nothing. Raining out."

I narrow my eyes. His neck is a bit pink. I pull the curtain to see out. More narrowed eyes at Sam.

Sam feels my glare. He smirks a bit, coughs, hides his lips behind his knuckles.

I sigh.

Fuck. Here we go again.

I'm going to have to sleep with my husband tonight, and I am so fucking tired.

Why? Because I'm Leah: a new, tired mother who lives across from a very gorgeous, very young couple, who … do not own curtains.

It is dinner time, and they are fucking.

Sam lets out a chuckle.

"Don't expect sex at dinner time from me, you pervert."

Sam goes from a chuckle to a cackle.

We both look at Jake on the floor by his playpen. He's playing quietly for once. Then, I hop onto the couch and we both turn with our elbows leaning on the back of it and … we watch.

It's horrible really. We're crazy. They're crazy. No curtains, living life in HD. It's not our fault. And really it's like a car-wreck. You just … gotta take a peek.

"Jeez." Me.

"Eek." Sam.

"I don't think you've ever done that."

He looks at me, put off. "Yes, I have."

I roll my eyes.

"I have, Leah!"

I lick the cooking spoon I brought over from the kitchen, still in my hand, waiting for the risotto to boil down. I do it suggestively.

"Not like that." I give him a smirk.

His lips clamp shut when I let out the tip of my tongue to the top of the spoon, just so.

He climbs off the couch, pissed.

"Oh, cmon! I was kidding!" I laugh.

"Oh, no. Uh uh," he says, wiggling a finger. "That was a hint. I get it. Crystal clear! Just …" He looks at Jake, our six month old, like he can hear him if he says something dirty. "Just you wait tonight!"

"Oh, a promise." I light up. He glares. I giggle.

I stand to stir the pot. I've definitely stirred a lot more than pots just now, because he's behind me all of a sudden. I'm pinned to the island and he's on his knees in front of the stove, unbuttoning me. I die laughing.

"Let's show these fuckers who can do it better."

Spoon still in my hand, he rightfully shuts me up. In a sense. I'm not quiet.

Our neighbors got nothing on us. But then, through the years, I never would have fathomed the coupling across the street would become a part of us. A series with episodes through the yearly seasons. A better love story than ours. I grow invested, more than I should. They never will know we watch it all unfold.

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End.

Inspiration from a podcast. xoxo