Romance with Mr. Grumpy Pants: A Witty, Opposites Attract, Enemies to Lovers, Next Door Neighbor, Sw

16. Brian

‘Hi…you know who this is. Leave a message.’

I pull my phone away from my ear and look at the caller ID once more, Jessica’s beautiful picture flashing brightly. I sigh softly as the call drops.

She isn’t taking my calls or returning my text messages. It has been a couple of days, enough to make my thoughts spin out of control.

I look up at the clock perched on the wall behind my television. It’s well past noon, and I haven’t heard anything from her since we shared that kiss.

I enjoyed that kiss.

I catch a reflection of something on a shiny gold plate that hangs on my wall. It’s not my face, but I see it in my head. It’s her face, with loose curls draping over her gorgeous eyes. They were closed when my lips touched hers. I can still taste the sweetness.

She kissed me first. Or did she?

My mind plays tug-of-war with the thought for a moment. Does it change anything? No. The fact remains that we kissed, and I let it unfold. I should’ve pulled back when she got too comfortable. Why did I even entertain the idea of kissing her here? Deep down, I wanted to. I longed for it. It felt right in that moment.

I should know better than that. Dang. I do know better than that. I don’t need distractions right now. Or maybe I do? I lost myself around her. All that seemed to matter then was pressing my lips against hers—indulging in the warmth and thrill that came with it.

Brian! Deep breaths.

I wipe the back of my palm against my forehead and sigh. My eye catches my song notebook on the couch with a pencil next to it. I walk over to it. This should be a lot better than standing idly, dreaming up a kiss that shouldn’t have happened.

The first few pages are filled with incomplete notes and song ideas. I flip through, skipping through the first few songs until I find familiar lyrics. For what it’s worth, it doesn’t work either.

I stare at the words but slowly drift away. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman has gotten close to me before realizing she shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten too close to hurting someone, either.

The thought causes a sharp pang in my chest. I’ve never had any reason to think that she’s spoken for until now. I’ve never seen her going out with anyone, and in all our discussions, it never came up. Then again, it’s none of my business.

I groan, stuffing the unopened beer bottle I grabbed earlier back into the fridge and slamming the door.

I stop for a moment. I don’t think. I don’t move. I don’t say anything. And then I close my eyes and take deep breaths.

Why does this even bother me this much? The question loops in my head, and my eyes pop open.

Since when did I become a person who obsesses over a woman who rejects a kiss from me? It makes no sense. Usually, with any other woman, I wouldn’t even be able to remember her name by now.

She had reasons for running away, and I have so much to do that I shouldn’t be bothered. It has to be another guy, right?

I turn around and head back to the living room. Time to get something done.

***

It’s been three hours. I haven’t done anything.

Well, that’s not exactly true. I made some progress during the first hour, but that was only because I was so caught up with Jessica in my mind that I didn’t realize I was moving on muscle memory.

I needed to stop thinking about her and alcohol was the solution, so I helped myself to that bottle of beer...and three more.

Now, I’m sitting on a pile of broken-down cardboard boxes. I would make such poetic art if photographed at this exact moment.

I’m intoxicated, and my cognition and inhibition are harder to get a grasp on, so all I feel is frustration.

Why is she so confusing? Why did I kiss her?

The questions crossed my mind a million times, and each time, my answer is more pathetic than the last.

I shouldn’t have rushed into it. We just started to bond, and now, my lack of control over my desire messed everything up. But then again, it’s just a kiss shared by two adults.

I can’t see why this has to drag on so long. I pick up my phone and tap the call log. My thumb is already inches from Jessica’s contact when I stop myself.

Whoa. I can’t believe I left four missed calls already.

I’m beginning to forget that I’m also a very handsome man, and as much as I want to make amends, I can’t lose myself. Besides, it’s probably a good idea to give her some time and space to think things through.

My phone buzzes to life, snapping me out of my vortex of thoughts. It’s Greg—the perfect distraction.

“Hey man. What are you up to?” Greg asks.

”At home…doing absolutely nothing.”

“The band and I wanna hit up the bar downtown.”

“North.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. You game to meet us there?”

I look at the bottles scattered around me. It would be better for me just to head upstairs and take a long nap. My shoulders heave as I sigh.

“I’ll meet you guys there in five.”

There’s no point in deceiving myself. I won’t be able to do anything but think of Jessica if I stay home. I need this.

I run upstairs to the bathroom and throw some water on my face before changing and rushing back down. Grabbing my keys from the rack by the door, I leave the house.

It’s impossible not to, so I allow myself to glance towards her house. Her car is parked in her driveway, but there’s no sign of her being home.

Then again, there never is. That’s why I constantly drum during the day. I choose to believe that she isn’t home.

Walk over there.

I immediately shake the thought from my mind as the scenario of me standing before her door, knocking, and not getting a response, plays through my mind.

A missed call or two is one thing. Being ignored at her doorstep is another.

My Uber pulls up in front of my driveway, and I climb in.

“Good day, sir.”

I hum in response.

“Would you like some music?” There’s a tinge of subdued excitement in his voice, and I can already predict what happens next. It’s happened multiple times since moving here. I’m really not in the mood to allow this man to pretend like he doesn’t know me and then proceed to play my song.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Oh, alright then,” the disappointment in his voice evident.

I honestly wish I cared, but even as the car revs to life and I turn my head to gaze through the window, all I can think about is Jessica.

It’s going to be a long night. The drive feels sluggish and quiet, and I’m beginning to regret not asking for music when the car suddenly slows to a halt in front of North’s.

I look up, surprised. “We’re here?”

Of course we are, Brian.

“Yes, sir.”

The drive to North’s is usually a little longer than this, but time is funny when you’re preoccupied. I reach for my wallet and slip out a few notes to hand to the driver.

“Thank you for tipping.”

“Yeah, you’re alright.”

I pop the door open and step down, my feet leading me to the bar’s entrance quickly. The bells overhead the door chime as I walk in, and my head darts from side to side, scanning the rustic interior.

There’s a big crowd today, something I’m not very enthusiastic about.

Greg’s bright eyes are the first I see. He lifts his cup towards me. “There you are, and right on time, too.”

I slip into the booth next to Phil.

“I just need a drink, Greg.”

He studies me briefly, his eyes falling with immediate understanding as he nods and snaps his fingers at the bartender.

A bottle of wine, elegantly displayed on the wall just above Greg’s fingers, catches my eye. The deep golden liquid glistens under the warm hue of the dim light that washes over the room.

Chardonnay. Seems like something Jessica would like.

“Yo, what’s up, man? The bar’s pretty busy today. How about we give these guys something to vibe to for the evening?” Georgie’s suggestion is met by cheering from the rest of the team, except me.

“Probably not a good idea until our official debut here, you know?” I respond with a flat tone.

Greg’s piercing glare weighs on me, but I choose to ignore it, feeling relieved as a waiter arrives at our table with a round of drinks.

Back in New York, putting on an impromptu performance usually meant I’d end up going back to my place with a young woman afterwards. The thought alone was enough motivation to get me to do anything.

It’s crazy how deeply a woman who I’ve barely known for over a week can influence me. I’ve gotten soft, and it’s time for me to regain focus and push forward.

But right now, I just need to get drunk and stop giving a crap.