Devil Next Door

by Alex Jane

It was hard to trust when the most reliable thing about people was that they proved themselves untrustworthy on a pretty reliable basis.

He'd learned early on in life that the only thing more important than feeling comfortable with yourself was making sure everyone else felt comfortable around you.

The frustration of being outside of Luke's life, when he so desperately wanted to be inside, was killing him.

This was the part he hated. Not the fake smile he had to plaster on his face, or the small talk about a sport that he had no interest in, or having to con people he was aware knew exactly what they were all talking about when he'd only had a few hours to research the subject. No, it was the doubt that came over him at the least opportune moments that really messed with his head. The small voice that told him he was crazy to even try to pull this off, that they would see through him, that he would wake up the next morning to a SWAT team breaking down his door or, worse, that Luke would look him in the eye and tell him no. He knew he wasn't mad—at least, he was pretty sure he wasn't—but sometimes he wondered.

In an ideal world, Remy would begin to execute his plan on a Monday for the same reason he alphabetized his bookcase and labeled all his cables.

Remy wanted Luke to know he knew what he was doing. Wanted to lick the hops and spice from him. Wanted to eat him alive if Luke would let him.

Remy smiled but he knew it was only a shape his mouth was making, not reaching his eyes.

You're a liar, Remy, one of the best. You use your skills to get into places you shouldn't be and see things you should never know. And I'm so glad you came to understand that it is a gift in your case. But there is a time for deception and a time for honesty. And now it's time to tell the truth."

"What? A psychopathic serial killer can't be a good friend?"