Page 8 of A Very Grumpy Neighbor

I say goodbye to my friends and head outside, Meyer walking beside me stoically. The cool air does little to sober me up as I follow him across the parking lot to his truck.

“In you go,” he says, gripping my elbow and helping me into the passenger seat.

The world is spinning. I can’t tell if it’s because of the alcohol or because my hot neighbor is touching me.

Probably both.

“Are you going to throw up?”

I frown. “No, why? Do I look like I’m going to be sick?”

“Well, you’re slurring a bit and can barely walk in a straight line,” he grumbles.

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

He studies me for a moment before he sighs and closes the door. I buckle up as he climbs behind the wheel and pulls out of the lot.

“Thanks for the ride.”

He nods, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“I’m surprised that you offered.”

He shrugs. “Was headed that way.”

“Right.”

I know it’s silly, but part of me hoped he’d offered to drive me home because he wanted to be with me. And maybe I was wishing he’d say sorry for being such a grouchy jerk lately.

“Have you lived here long?” I ask, resting my head against the cool glass window.

“Few months.”

“Hmm. It’s nice.”

He grunts his agreement.

I roll my eyes.

Why am I so attracted to this man who can’t seem to string two sentences together?

“Did you get the rose bush?”

He nods.

I wait to see if he’ll say anything else, but he remains silent.

“Did you want help planting it?”

“No.”

“Got it,” I snap as he pulls onto our road.

I see him glance at me, but I keep my eyes locked forward. I need to get it together. This guy is not into me. He’s not my one. He’s just my neighbor.

He pulls into his driveway, and I scramble to get unbuckled and out of his truck. I need to get away from him. I’ll go to bed, and in the morning, I can start ignoring him, too.

“Thanks,” I mumble, kicking the passenger door open and grabbing my purse.

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