She clutches her chest. “He said what!”
I nod, puckering my lips. “I had the same reaction. In fact, I texted my mom and made her call me with an emergency to get out of there.”
Maya rolls her eyes. “You realize I’m making fun of you, right?”
“What? You know cherry is the best kind of pie!”
“You can’t keep pushing every Tom, Dick, and Harry away for these asinine reasons. You’ll never find anyone if you keep this up.”
“First of all, I would never push a dick away.”
“River…” Her voice is laced with frustration, and I get it.
I am kind of picky.
But is it too much to ask for a guy to make me…well, excited?
“Maybe I am a smidge particular, but nobody gets me going, you know? Nobody makes my heart rate spike or makes me laugh. Not one of them has been the sit-at-home-and-think-about-him kind of guy. Nobody has made me tingly in all the right places. Not a single date has—ugh.”
In my peripheral, I watch the bane of my existence saunter through the doors of my favorite restaurant—which I’ve been frequenting for eight years now—like he owns the place.
His denim-clad legs stretch on for what seems like miles, and I don’t even have to look to know he’s wearing a t-shirt for some band that hasn’t played a show in nearly thirty years. His coal black hair is messy like the wind blew it everywhere, and his face hasn’t been shaved in three days.
He looks sloppy, like he just rolled out of bed and plucked his clothes from the floor. But, somehow, he’s still ridiculously attractive…unfortunately.
“What? What’s wrong?” Maya peers behind her to the front door of the diner, where my eyes have drifted. “Oh. Him.”
“Yeah.” I curl my lips back in disgust. “Him.”
She turns back to me. “I don’t understand your problem with him. He’s super hot.”
“You don’t live next door to him.”
Not only does Lucifer himself patronize my favorite place in the whole world, he also lives in the apartment right. Next. Door.
I see him all the time. At the mailboxes. In the elevator.
Every morning.
It’s exhausting because he’s exhausting.
Like the traitor she is, Maya lifts her hand and waves. He shoots her a grin I’m sure he thinks is panty-melting and waves back as he heads to the front counter to place his order.
I swat it down. “Stop that!”
“You stop it!” She yanks her hand back. “There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s—”
“Super hot—yeah, I heard you the first time. He’s also super annoying.”
“How so?”
“For starters, he—”
“Ah, Sam.” My mortal enemy approaches the line. “Nice to see you, bro.”
“That!” I practically rise up out of my chair, pointing an accusing finger at him. He peeks over at the commotion, thick brows squished together at my disruption. “That right there! He says stuff like that because—”
“Hey, Dean.” Sam high-fives his old teacher. “How’s your weekend going?”
“Because of that. They’re Sam and Dean. Like the Winchesters.” I roll my eyes. “Spare me,” I finish as I settle back down on my ass, watching the two of them chat it up like old friends.
Which I guess they are. Kind of.
Last year when Maya and her ex were going through their divorce, Dean was there for Sam in ways only a father figure can be. With him being Sam’s teacher and seeing him at school, the two grew close, and though it’s incredibly silly, it makes me a little jealous.
And horny.
Which in turn makes me really damn angry.
I hate him. He’s an ass. A total jerk. And so not my type. I don’t like him. The attraction is the lack of a man warming my bed talking and nothing more.
Besides, what I’m looking for is not Dean. He might have a stable job and appear steady on his feet, but that doesn’t make up for how much he annoys me.
“You know, I’m starting to think maybe you only say you hate him because you’re secretly crushing on him.”
I bark out a sardonic laugh. “Please. That is so not it.”
“You’re saying you don’t find him attractive at all?”
“No.”
“No you don’t find him attractive, or no that’s not what you’re saying?”
I shift in my chair. “Of course I find him attractive.”
“Huh. Interesting.”
I tilt my head, pinching my brows together. “What is?”
“Dean turns you on.”
“W-What?!” I sputter, sitting up straight. “He does not! Why would you say that? I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. A best friend knows these things.”
“What the…”
“Oh, honey.” We look down the table toward Lucy, whose nose wasn’t as stuck in her book as I thought. “It’s obvious to me too.”
“Lucy! What the hell?!”
She lifts a shoulder, a smirk teasing her red-painted lips. “I’m just tellin’ the truth, dear. Besides, it ain’t a bad thing. You’re not alone in your feelings—Dean makes me horny too.”
My eyes widen and my cheeks heat.
“Now, now. Don’t you two give me that look. I’m old, but there’s still motion in this ocean, and the ocean is definitely in my panties when that man walks through the door.”
She slides her tongue over her lips, and I have never wanted a hole to open up and swallow me as badly as I do in this moment, and that includes the time I walked through Wal-Mart with my skirt tucked into my underwear…my thong underwear.
Lucy takes a sip of her tea and turns her attention back to her book…allegedly.
Maya dips her head toward mine, leaning close to whisper, “So that happened.”
“Unfortunately, it did.”
“Look, it’s not a bad thing if you have a crush on him.”
“Just because he might—and I’m putting a lot of emphasis on that word—maybe get me a little excited in the pants, that doesn’t mean it’s a crush. I can be physically attracted to someone and still hate their guts.”
“Or you can be lying.”
I groan. “Trust me, it is not a crush, Maya. I don’t even kind of like him. In fact, I’ve said many times over the last year that I loathe him.”
“But for no good reason.”
“You’re kidding me, right? There are plenty of reasons!”
“Name one.”
Just one? There are so many reasons to dislike Dean.
He’s obnoxious. Always right about everything. Inserts himself into breakfast with my best friend every single Sunday.
And his worst offense?
The fact that he lives next door. He’s always playing that awful guitar on his balcony or blaring his horrid taste in music at all hours of the day. Screaming at the TV about whatever sport he always seems to be watching.
He’s the worst neighbor ever.
“He wakes up to the same song every damn day.”
“Most people do.”
“But Old Time Rock & Roll repeatedly? It’s—”