Page 67 of Phoenix

I toss my phone aside and head into the kitchen to clean up any of the mess still there from dinner. It keeps me busy and gives me time to really think.

I like her. That much is obvious, but I like her in way I can’t remember ever feeling before. She is different—special—even.

I wipe down the table and toss empty takeout containers as the memories of fucking her on this table seep into my brain. I’m overtaken by this caveman-like need to have her on every flat surface of my house. Maybe I make that a silent goal before she leaves. Christen the house with her so she’s here with me, even when she’s gone.

Nora’s just so easy. She’s so easy to be around, to talk to, to care for. It makes this casual shit incredibly fucking hard. I know, as a single man, I should appreciate the ability to fuck a smoking hot blonde with no strings attached, but that’s not what feels right with her.

Yes, Nora is a fucking dime piece with a fuckable, curvy body, but she’s also the kind of girl you take home to your parents. She’s the kind of woman you wife immediately. The kind of woman you want to make babies with, take care of, fight with, and make up with. She’s the full package. The rare home run, and she only wants me for my cock.

Shouldn’t this be a good thing?

Arya barks from the front door, pulling my thoughts back to the present, alerting me she needs to go out.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”

I fill up a large pitcher of water and take it with me to the front porch, letting Arya into the yard to do her business while I water the hanging flower baskets.

I catch shit from some of the guys at the station for having these, but I don’t care. Things like this mean more than their bullshit jabs ever could.

“Hiya, Arya!” I hear from across the yard.

I step down the front steps and see Faith in her driveway next door, knelt down on the concrete, petting and playing with Arya.

“Enjoy your day off?” I ask.

Our houses are close enough together we can hold a normal conversation without even really raising our voices very much.

Faith has been my neighbor for five years. Ever since she moved to Savannah and took the job as the receptionist at the station. She’s good people. Always has been.

“I did. Ran a few errands. Had lunch with my aunt. It was a nice, easy day,” she says, returning to her feet as Arya bolts over to me. “I swear I wasn’t being the nosy neighbor, but on my way out earlier, I saw a girl on your front porch. A pretty one at that. Finally have them stalking you at your house, I see,” she teases.

“Nah, it’s not like that. That was Nora. She’s a friend. She came by for a bit and just let herself in.”

“A friend or a friend?” She cocks her brow and places her hands on her hips.

“Is there a difference?”

“Well, yeah, duh. There are friends who you hang out with, watch sports with, and then they leave. Then there are friends who you see occasionally and make the beast with two backs.” She pushes her black-framed, vintage style glasses back into place.

“The beast with two backs? You really are a nerd,” I say jokingly.

“So what is it? Friends or friends?”

“Uh…Well, both...I think.”

“Both, you think? You really are a dude.”

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