Page 13 of Things We Fake
“How was your date?” he asked.
I blinked. I had been so lost in his eyes it took a moment to break the trance. “It was all right. Err, thanks for helping with the bags.”
“Anytime, neighbor.” His beautiful mouth curved in a smile. “Next time you need to go for groceries, give me a shout. I’ll go with you. Maybe we can stop at that little coffee shop I noticed on the way home. Java Joe’s or something.”
Was he asking me out for coffee? I looked up at his face, trying to decide how to answer this invitation, or if it was an invitation at all. His smile reminded me of the one I gave Mrs. H when I carried her laundry basket upstairs for her.
Great! I was either the crazy lady in the mask, the lumberjack teacher, the little damsel in distress, or the old lady next door needing help. None of those were the image I wanted to project. I was a sexy, vibrant young woman looking for love—or at least lust—from a hunky guy. Was that too much to ask?
Before I could say something witty, Cam walked over to his door, wiped his feet on Sebastian’s mat, and disappeared inside.
“He could’ve waited for me to answer,” I grumbled.
Suddenly, my mind was flooded with snappy comeback lines.Coffee?I’m sure we could stop for something creamier… Sure, I like mine hot, steamy and strong… We could take it to go and the extra whipped cream is on me…
Right. Now, when he was gone, I was a sex goddess in action. Cursing, I went inside my apartment, dropped the bags, and shut the door, collapsing against it with a thump of my head. Another lost opportunity. Why did I get so tongue-tied around this man? What kind of hormonal reactions took place in my body that turned me from an intelligent, well-spoken woman into a gaping teenager?
At least Sam had wanted to see me again. He’d asked for my phone number three times. I was surprised I’d had enough imagination to dodge the same bullet three times, and do it rather subtly. I was not going out again with that freak. I wasn’t that desperate. Maybe if I’d flirted with him, Cam would have thought the same of me as I did of Sam.
Seriously annoyed with myself, I had two choices: chow down on ice cream, chocolates, and chips, or find another way to work out my angst. I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom in an effort to curb my frustration. As I vacuumed, dusted, washed, and polished, I imagined ways I could convince Cam to see me as the woman of his dreams rather than the weird girl next door.
By dinner time, the place was cleaner than it had ever been, but I was exhausted—too exhausted to even nuke dinner. I grabbed the phone, dialed Pizza Paradise, and ordered a small salami and pepperoni with extraolives. Knowing I had thirty minutes before the delivery guy arrived, I took a shower, dressed in my warm, fleece lounge pajamas, cracked open a beer, and settled on the couch to watch the news. Big mistake. The state of the world left me more depressed than ever.
The pizza boy arrived, saving me from any more negative information. I buzzed him in and opened the door in time to see four guys entering Sebastian’s apartment. I recognized a couple of them. Crap! It was game night. What would it be this week? Hockey? Baseball? Basketball? Soccer? At this time of year, it could be anything. What it would definitely be was LOUD. If luck were on my side, they would leave when the game was over. Luck had never been a friend of mine.
I tipped the delivery guy and carried the pizza into the kitchen, putting two pieces on a plate. I returned to the TV, beer and pizza in hand, and settled on the sofa. Every now and then, something must’ve happened next door because they would all cheer loudly. Testosterone was practically oozing out of Sebastian’s apartment. Hopefully, the game would be over by the time I was ready for bed. If there was one thing I missed about Warwick, it was silence. The only thing disturbing the quiet at night was the sound of crickets, or cats in heat serenading each other. Still, the parts I missed about country life couldn’t compete with the things I loved about being a city girl. Living in New York City was addictive. I had made my choice.
A couple of hours later, the boys next door weren’t ready to go home, although it was nearly midnight.Music and the odd hoot of laughter replaced the sounds of cheering.
Muttering to myself, I turned off the TV, took a quick shower, and then headed into the bedroom. I tried to settle down to sleep, but not even a deaf person could sleep through this. Why the hell were they playing that sleazy music so loud? When had the women arrived? I definitely heard a woman’s voice. If they wanted to talk, why didn’t they turn down the music instead of shouting over it?
Surely, I wasn’t the only one bothered by the noise. I reached for my cellphone and dialed Sebastian’s number. The phone rang, and rang, and rang, until voicemail kicked in. “Hey, you know what to do.”
Great. I flung the covers aside, threw my robe over my nighty, put on my fluffy bunny slippers, and headed next door, determined to get Sebastian to turn down the music. My jaw hurt from so much clenching. Tired and pissed off, I wanted to get to sleep and that wasn’t going to happen with those clowns and the girls who’d shown up making so much noise.
I removed the dead bolt chain, opened the door, and stomped down the hall to 2 B. I knocked loudly, not sparing my knuckles. The music was even louder here than it had been in my bedroom. I checked the door knob and twisted. It was unlocked. While part of my brain was shoutingthis is a bad idea, another part was screechingget this settled, so that we can get some sleep!
I shoved open the door. The smell of stale beer, cigar smoke, greasy food, and popcorn assaulted my senses. It would take a gallon of pine-scented cleanerand more room spray than I owned to get this place smelling fresh again. I peered through the blue haze into the living room. There were half a dozen guys in the room, each of them focused on the TV. Not a woman in sight, although I could swear I’d heard them.
“Get a load of the tits on that one. What I wouldn’t give to motorboat there,” one guy said.
“Hell, she’d probably suffocate you,” someone else added.
They all laughed loudly.
“Yeah, but what a way to go.”
“Nah, too big for me. Just give me enough to fill my hands, and I’m good.”
Sebastian laughed. “Yeah, but you have hands the size of baseball mitts.”
The words and the wolf whistles should’ve warned me, but since I was half asleep and couldn’t see much through the thick cigar smoke, I barged into the room. I stopped dead, staring at the pile of naked people on the screen doing physically impossible—or at least improbable—things to one another.
“That can’t be real,” another of Sebastian’s friends joked.
“Holy cannoli,” I cried, as the close up of the biggest dick I’d ever seen filled the screen. How could that man make love to a woman without causing permanent damage?
Sebastian was the first to see me. “Shit. Suzie Q, what are you doing here?” He smiled lopsidedly at me.
