Molly Towers has never been a risk-taker.

She lives life by the book, and that's all there is to say about that. 

She brushes her teeth twice a day for three minutes each time, makes her bed every morning, tips the mailman at Christmas.  Even her career involves careful planning, organization, and strategy.  As far as she's concerned, there's no reason to deviate from what works - and what has always worked for Molly is playing by the rules.

Which is why when her closest friend in the world, Delia, suggested that she ask her sexy neighbor out on a date, all Molly could do was laugh

"I don't think so, D."  Molly leaned down to pull a beer out of the small cooler that Delia had brought with her.  She wiped the majority of the bottle's wetness off before twisting the cap off and taking a drink.

Delia groaned, kicking her legs up on Molly's porch railing and adjusting her sunglasses.  "You are such a bore."

"Girls don't ask guys out," Molly said.  "That's just weird."

Delia clucked her tongue.  "If only Susan B. Anthony could hear you now."

"Okay.  Have you ever asked a guy out?"

"No," Delia admitted.  "But I would make an exception for a fine piece of ass like that."

Both girls turned their attention towards the neighbor in question's home - positioned directly across the street from Molly's.  Molly had lived in her house for just under three years, and her mysterious neighbor had moved in just the previous summer.  All she knew about him was what was listed on his mailbox ("J. Timberlake") and what he looked like from the vantage point of her living room window.  Unfortunately, he was rarely seen outside his house - Molly usually spotted him either coming home or leaving in his black Mercedes, which he always parked in the garage. 

The closest she'd ever gotten to him had occurred once when she was picking up her mail.  He'd come out to retrieve his at the same time, and Molly had been able to sneak a peek across the road as she opened her mailbox.  It was then that her earlier suspicions were confirmed - J. Timberlake was hot.  Really hot.  Molly could still remember what he'd looked like at the time, still in work clothes - navy pants and a white dress shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows and the collar open, no tie.  He'd glanced across the street at her after sliding his small stack of mail out of the box, caught her staring.  Molly froze, of course, but he'd just smiled and waved congenially.  She forced herself to return the gesture and marched back up to her front door without looking back.

Of course, as soon as Delia found out that Molly was "harboring a hottie", as she so tactfully put it, she made it her personal mission to meet the man in question.  In fact, the girls had made it a Saturday afternoon ritual to camp out on Molly's front porch with beer and soda, chatting and waiting for what they'd come to call a Timberlake Sighting.

So far, Delia had only been privy to one - a couple weeks before, they'd been about to give up and go back inside when J. Timberlake's garage door opened.  Instead of backing out in his expensive car, the man himself had stepped out with a spray bottle of weed killer, clad in a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt.  Delia had nearly lost her shit.

"Oh, fuck.  Oh, god, he's gorgeous," she'd gushed, leaning so far out over Molly's porch railing that she was in near danger of toppling over into the azaleas.  "We have to get closer.  How can we get closer?"

Molly had been able to talk her out of barging over there and introducing herself, thankfully, and they'd spent the rest of the evening watching chick flicks and wondering what hot neighbor was doing across the street.

Delia was nothing if not more outgoing than Molly - they'd been friends for ten years, since freshman year at UIC, and she'd always been the "fun" one of the pair.  Delia was the one who suggested that they try a new restaurant, or get wacky colors like blue or green for their bi-monthly pedicures.  She encouraged Molly to make impulse purchases on yellow wedge sandals or neon pink sunglasses (most of which Molly managed to resist).  She also dated a new guy every other week and hadn't been able to settle on a career choice since graduation (even though she held a Masters degree in journalism).  Molly saw her relationship with Delia like a sort of yin-yang...Delia was the spontaneous, exciting side, and Molly was the reserved, predictable side.  Even though Delia had the tendency to drive her crazy, Molly wouldn't have traded her for anyone.

Even with her fearless personality, however, even Delia hadn't managed to work up the guts to march over to J. Timberlake's door herself.  She talked about it plenty, suggested baking cookies or a pie and taking it over to welcome him to the neighborhood - never mind that he'd lived there for almost a year.  But Molly always put her foot down and Delia never did much more than pout and complain.

Now, they watched his motionless front door and sighed simultaneously.

"Maybe he's out of town," Molly said, taking another sip of her beer.  "I haven't really seen him leaving or coming home in awhile."

Delia drained the last of her beer and shook her head.  "God, look at us.  We are such desperate losers!"

Molly didn't try to argue - when Delia went off like this, it was best just to let her go.

"Shit," she exclaimed.  "We can't just sit here and do nothing, waiting for your stupid hot neighbor - whose name we don't even know, by the way - to poke his head out of his garage.  I haven't been on a date in almost a month, and you haven't been on a date in, like, years."

"That's not true," Molly interjected.  "I went on a date two months ago, with that one guy."

Delia frowned.  "I don't remember."

"He was the cousin of that dental hygienist that you were seeing for awhile."

"Ohh."  Molly's frown deepened.  "Did you sleep with him?"

"No," Molly replied.  "We only went on the one date.  He wasn't really my type."

Delia slumped dramatically in her chair.  "See what I mean?  See?!  You need to get some tail."

"I'm doing okay," Molly said, but her eyes darted back over towards her neighbor's silent house.  She would be lying if she didn't admit that she thought about how exciting it would be to spend a night with the mysterious J. Timberlake...but that just wasn't her style.

"No, I'm serious, Moll."  Delia sat up straight and gestured across the street.  "We can't keep doing this every Saturday without even trying to talk to him.  It's pathetic."

"Fine, let's do something else."  Molly shrugged and stood up, reaching to collect their empty beer bottles.  "Oh, didn't you want to go see that Nicholas Cage movie?"

"No!"  Delia tipped her head back against the chair and glared at her friend.  "This has gone too far."

"What are you talking about?" Molly asked.  "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to talk to him," Delia said, her voice steeled.  "For real this time."

Molly rolled her eyes.  "D, I'm not going to go knock on his door, for Christ's sake.  That would be weird."

"But what if he comes outside?" Delia asked.  "What if he comes out, and you walk across the street and say hi?  That's not weird."

Molly sighed.  "No, that wouldn't be as weird.  But," she turned and gestured across the street, "do you see him outside?  I don't.  Come on, let's go in, it's getting hot out here."

She was halfway to the door when Delia started coughing.  Molly glanced over her shoulder at her, seeing that her friend had apparently choked on a mouthful of beer. 

"Delia, are you okay?"  She set the empty bottles down and hurried back across the porch to her friend.  But Delia's eyes were wide and she was staring across the street.  "Are you okay or not?"

Delia only managed to sputter unintelligibly before she grasped the hem of Molly's tank top and pointed.  Molly followed her gaze, shocked herself when she saw J. Timberlake making his way down his front walk. 

"Oh, wow," she whispered.  For a few seconds, the two girls watched him walk to his mailbox, motionless.

Then, Delia sprang into action. 

"This is it.  It's a sign," she stammered, standing up to push Molly towards the porch stairs.  "Go.  Go!  You have to!  It's meant to be!"

"But...but I already got the mail," she said frantically, trying to resist against Delia's pushing.  But her friend was freakishly strong, and she found herself down the stairs before she knew it.

"Just pretend!" Delia hissed, giving her another push.  "He's at the mailbox.  Go!"

Molly nearly tripped over her own feet, but somehow she found herself walking in the direction of her neighbor, who was now leafing through his mail mere feet away.  Molly gulped when she reached the end of her driveway, glancing back at Delia.  All she did was glare and motion at her to go, go, go.

Molly didn't know how it happened, but all of a sudden she was across the street and on J. Timberlake's side of it.  He'd yet to turn around and notice her, and Molly froze for a second, wondering if it was too late to run.  Then again, Delia would never let her hear the end of it.  But she had to live near this guy - and clearly he was going to think she was some kind of freak.

Before she could talk herself out of what she was already doing, her neighbor turned away from his mailbox, spotting her on the sidewalk.  Molly forced a smile for lack of anything better to do.

"Um, hi," she greeted, taking a few steps closer.  He matched her smile, though she didn't miss the way his brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

"Hi," he said, and Molly noticed he was wearing jeans, and he was barefoot.  She swallowed.

"I'm Molly."  She held out her hand.  "I live across the street."

"Oh, yeah."  He took a step forward and took her hand.  "Yeah, I've seen you before.  I'm Justin.  I live...here."  He gestured towards his house and shrugged.

"Hi," Molly said again, and winced.  "It's nice to finally meet you.  I guess I just realized that we've never officially met."

"Oh."  Justin rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, looking sheepish.  "I guess I'm not the friendliest neighbor.  I'm not home a lot."

"Me either," Molly replied.  "I mean, I work.  A lot."

He smiled.  "Me, too."

Molly smoothed her hands over her jeans.  She couldn't help darting a glance across the street to Delia, trying to look inconspicuous on the porch.  Now what?

Justin followed her gaze and Molly blushed.  "That's my friend Delia.  We're just...we were hanging out."

"Nice."  He raised a hand to wave at her, and Delia waved right back.  Molly was half-surprised she didn't march across the street to join their awkward little soiree. 

"Well."  Molly tucked her hair behind her ear and licked her suddenly dry lips.  She could very easily go back across the street right now, without having soiled her normal reputation too much.  There was nothing wrong with introducing yourself to a neighbor, no matter how belated or uncomfortable the greeting was.  But she remembered Delia's urging and, somehow, all the wrong gears started turning in her head.

"Well."  Justin matched her position, hands in his pockets, mail tucked under one arm.  He watched her curiously, not quite frowning, but not quite smiling, either.

Molly felt her heart rate increase and she knew she was about to do something very, very stupid.

"So, I was wondering, if..." She paused to swallow again; god, why was her throat so dry?  "If you maybe...wanted to go out later?  Like, um, get a drink or something?"

Fuck.  Could there be a more pitiful way to ask someone out?  She resisted the urge to rub her temples.

Justin stared at her blankly for a few seconds.  Molly crossed over from embarrassed to wanting to dig a hole and crawl into it for the rest of her adult life.  Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Oh.  Wow, that's...really cool of you.  But I, um...have to work."  He gave her an apologetic shrug and a half-frown sorta thing.  "Yeah, I gotta work tonight.  Big meeting, it really sucks."

"Ah."  Molly literally felt every ounce of personal pride she possessed pop like a balloon and wilt pathetically to the pit of her stomach.  Jesus, no wonder guys took so long to ask girls out.  "Yeah, that's...lame.  Um, maybe some other time."

"For sure.  Take a rain check," Justin said, pointing at her like it was cute that he'd just rejected her in the harshest sense of the word.  "Nice meeting you, though."

"Yep.  Bye."  Molly didn't even have it within her to smile, and she turned to head back across the street, feeling numb with embarrassment.  She didn't dare look back at him, how could she ever look at him again without feeling the overwhelming sting of shame that she was feeling right now?

Delia sat on the porch like a starving puppy, waiting.  "Well?!  What did you say?  What happened?"

Molly walked past her, heading for the door.  "I asked him out."

"You did what?" Delia practically shrieked, jumping out of her seat.  "Jesus, Molly!"

"This is your fault!" Molly shot back.  "You're the one who told me to do it."

"I told you to go talk to him," Delia said.  "Not ask him out.  I mean...wow."

Molly turned away from the front door, glaring at Delia with rage and humiliation heating up her face. 

"What the hell are you talking about?  You said I should ask him out, not even fifteen minutes ago!"

Delia looked around, as if she couldn't quite believe she lived in a world where her friend could be that dumb.  "I meant, like...a long time from now.  This was just supposed to be an introduction.  Jeez, Moll, who does that?  ‘Oh nice to meet you, wanna bang?'"

"I didn't say that," Molly mumbled, yanking the front door opened and stalking inside the entryway of her air-conditioned house.  Charlie, her cat, half-woke from his doze on the back of the couch and opened one eye to appraise her. 

"What did you say?"  Delia shut the door behind her and turned to Molly, hands over her mouth.  "Oh, god.  Was it bad?  Did he reject you?  He wasn't mean, was he?"  She stood up straighter, calling out the loyal friend side.  "'Cause I'll go over there and yell at him for you.  I will."

"He wasn't mean."  Molly ran her hands through her hair, tried to decide if she was going to throw up or not.  "He was polite.  I asked him for a drink and he said he had to work."

"On a Saturday night?" Delia trilled.  "Oh, yeah right!  What a goddamn liar."

Molly rubbed her forehead.  "Yeah, make it worse, please."

Delia backtracked quickly, taking a couple steps closer to Molly.  "Okay, sorry.  Maybe he did, a lot of people work on Saturdays, actually."

"Yeah."  Molly felt her stomach roll and knew it was unavoidable.  "I'm gonna puke."

She locked the door of the hall bathroom behind her because Delia was absolutely one of those friends who would follow you in just to hold your hair and make sympathetic noises.  Molly liked her privacy at the least attractive moments in her life, thanks.

When she was finished emptying the contents of her stomach completely, she could hear Delia on the other side of the door.

"It's okay, Moll," she said, her voice muffled but not enough so that Molly could ignore it.  "He's obviously totally not worth it, anyway."