I yank my hand out of his grasp, mumbling out, “It’s nice to meet you.”
I grab my own basket when he presses, “Have I seen you somewhere? Maybe at your work?”
Again with the probe disguised as an innocent question. These guys are relentless. “Maybe,” I say carefully.
Walking backward, he surprises me by saying, “At Hot Spots Car Wash maybe?”
Damn. So, he was checking my clothes out. Hopefully he didn’t see everything. Never have I wished I could afford to shop at Victoria’s Secret more than I do right now. I’m adding that to the top of my adult list as soon as I’m back upstairs.
I shake my head lightly. “I’d remember if I saw you before.” Instantly, my lips clamp shut as I eye the empty washing machine, gauging if my body will fit in there after all. A chill like the one Coty’s mere presence evokes is not something I’d ever forget but he doesn’t need to know that. Or that his face has been burned into my memory with no chance of rehabilitation. Fourth-degree. Straight through, zero interference. When I donate my body to science after I die, they’ll find an exact replica of Coty’s face right there on my hippocampus.
Planning to get the hell out of here before anything else slips out of my mouth without my brain’s consent, I attempt to step around Coty when he shifts to block me. Not in an aggressive way. More like a last-ditch effort to get my attention. Little does he know, he already has it.
And there it is. That alarm blaring as loud and persistent as someone else’s dryer buzzing from across the small room. The one telling me to avoid the looming threat by way of either fight or flight. My stupid body, not consulting with my brain yet again, chooses the lesser known option—to freeze, like a mannequin modeling last year’s newest laundry basket. Mid-air. I’ll never be able to look at this stupid thing again without remembering this day. The day my neighbor realized he was living next to a woman with the equivalent of blow-up doll arms—utterly fucking useless.
Coty regards me another moment so I take the opportunity to do the same. His shirt’s open arm pits are cut so wide I can just make out tattoos under his collarbone on each side. Something intricate. Something with wings.
Shuffling the basket into one hand, I push back some hair that fell forward over my shoulder and fan my face.
“That wasn’t a lot of clothes over there. Is it just you upstairs?” His eyes hold mine with something that looks an awful lot like hope but might actually be a reflection of my own futile desire. “Or maybe you have a roommate you’ve been hiding who’s opposed to wearing clothing?”
My previous idea of becoming a nudist returns, making me smile. “Hence the need to keep them hidden.”
We both breathe out somewhat strangled laughs.
“Right,” he drawls.
“You caught me,” I joke, leaving the truth suspended somewhere above us to join the hot air creeping along the ceiling before it can all float out together where I left the door cracked open.
So quiet I almost miss it, Coty utters, “Not yet.” Then louder, he says, “I’ll see you around, Angela. Let me know if you ever need a cup of sugar or something.”
I bite my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing. Sugar, huh?
With that, he takes off out the door and out of my head.
Hopefully.
Probably.
CHAPTER 5
Coty
Sugar? Really? That’s the best you could come up with?
Neighbors do that kind of thing. Right?
Fuck it, they do now. I’ll get her the whole damn baking aisle if I have to.
I pound up the stairs a little too hard thinking about our new neighbor. Our frustratingly cryptic, sarcastic, takes no shit, drop-dead gorgeous neighbor.
Angela.
With her tan skin layered with a slight sheen of sweat from the balmy day. That bare shoulder taunting me. Testing me and my thin-as-thread patience from being cooped up in that heat swamp of a laundry room before she walked in bringing that much needed breeze I didn’t realize I’d been hoping for.
Her straight, sun-tinted hair, reminding me of the Californian surfers we saw on one of the many trips Marc let us tag along on, reaching just above her perfectly toned ass. It would look better splayed across my bed than stuffed under those hats she’s always rocking but we’ll get to that. One day. She may be on the skinnier side but her body holds a layer of muscle at every angle that proves she’s a hard worker. If what she told Beck is true about her still being in high school, then she must work hard to live on her own. If she lives alone.
Those hazel eyes beg me to take a closer look, even if her mouth says otherwise—chameleons in their own right, much like Angela with her vague responses and non-answers. She’s one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met and I know nothing about her. Yet. She takes in everything around her without revealing anything in the process. She’s holding back, that much is obvious. She knows what’s going on but doesn’t use that knowledge until necessary, and not a moment sooner. She demands attention without even trying. It’s almost like she’s trying to hide herself from anyone and everyone, which is the opposite of what happens. All eyes land on her. And stay.
Once I caught sight of her today in the pool, I couldn’t focus on the shit coming from Beck’s mouth any longer. Hell, I couldn’t remember where I even was let alone the details of his story about some turtle he saved from crossing the road. His words were muted the second my gaze fell on her in that temptation she thinks passes as a bikini. That little number had me wound up. Tight. I even managed to miss Beck climbing down the balcony to join her.
Bastard.
I head straight for my room to drop off my clean clothes on my way for another cold shower. I’ve needed a lot of those lately. Too many. Ever since a certain dark-haired beauty moved in next door actually. And I’m not talking about Gary. I mean the dude is cool but he’s just not my type. First, and this is a big one, I’m into girls. Second, I’m pretty sure Gary hasn’t come out of his apartment for over a year other than to do the occasional load of laundry. The guy orders online like a champ though. His door step is always chock-full of packages. Of…things that further prove why he just isn’t for me. In any manner.
Beck’s annoying laughter follows me down the hall as I pass Marc’s open door. It’s usually closed and locked so he must be inside but forgot to close it all the way. I decide against saying anything. Dude is private but will open up bits at a time when the mood strikes. Not that it strikes often, but once in a while he’ll let us in. He used to disappear for a week at a time without a word until Beck had the brilliant idea to follow him one day. When we confronted him at the airport, his response was a simple shrug along with an invite to Key West. Hell yeah, we went. With just the clothes on our backs and the cash in our pockets and it was one of the best trips I’ve ever been on. Dude does that shit on the regular. He’ll blindly pick a destination and go. Just go. The guy is crazy but we love him.
“What happened to you, bro? You’re gone for a while, then come storming in. You run into our fine ass neighbor girl out there?”
Ignoring him, I move for the bathroom which only spurs him on further.
“Another shower?”