Page 35 of The Jerk in Apartment 1B

“I thought that person was Asher…” I say, my voice drifting off as I remember back to when I met him. I thought he was so sophisticated because he wore a dress shirt and tie to class. He was way more mature than other guys his age. He already had investment accounts set up and an account for his retirement. He grew up in a wealthy part of Connecticut, had gone to private school, and had traveled the world. To me, that meant he had a good upbringing and good parents. He checked all the boxes of what I wanted in a husband. But unfortunately, that isn’t a role he wants, at least not right now.

Scott’s phone rings. He glances at it and silences it.

“You need to get that?” I ask.

“I’ll call her back later.”

“Her?” I smile a little. “You mean the girl from last night? Whipped Cream Girl?”

He sighs in annoyance, but he’s smiling. “Please stop calling her that.”

“Sorry. I forgot her name.”

“It’s Bridget.”

“Got it. Bridget.” I tap my head. “I’ve filed it in my brain so I don’t forget.”

“You have a real problem remembering names. You couldn’t remember mine either.”

That’s because I was distracted by his hotness. He was wearing a towel when we met. It’s really not fair to expect me to remember his name when he’s practically naked and has a body like that.

“Yeah, I’m not great with names. And when we met, I was calling you something else.” I cringe, regretting I said that.

Why am I telling him all this? About Asher? About my job? And now my secret name for him? I blame stress, combined with my lack of sleep. It’s making me not think straight.

“What were you calling me?” Scott asks, giving me that half-smile of his that for some reason is really sexy.

“Nothing. Forget it.” I motion to his plate. “How are the pancakes?”

“They’re good. You want a bite?”

“No. I’ve got plenty.” I’ve almost finished my meal while Scott has barely touched his. “So how long have you been dating Bridget?”

“I’m not dating Bridget.”

“Does she know that?”

He laughs a little. “Yes. She does. Why are you so interested in Bridget?”

“Because I get the feeling you’re hiding whatever’s going on with you two.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal.” He leans forward, his eyes on mine. “You tell me what name you gave me, and I’ll tell you my history with Bridget.”

“So there’s a history,” I say, smiling at him. “I knew it. She’s your ex, isn’t she?”

“Give me the name and I’ll tell you.”

I pause, wondering if I should make something up. But then I decide to just tell him the truth.

“Let me start by saying I was really upset when we met. I was upset about Asher and losing my job and having to live in that tiny apartment, and then you had all that stuff in the hall so the movers couldn’t—”

“Trina,” he says, his eyes still on mine. “Just tell me the name.”

“The Jerk in Apartment 1B,” I say really fast, hoping he’ll not care and move on.

“The Jerk,” he says. “In apartment 1B. That’s what you called me?”

“Yes, but it’s only because I made up this mantra that all guys are jerks. I’ve been repeating it in my head ever since Asher kicked me out so that I’m not tempted to get involved with another guy.”

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