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

17. Jessica

The worst part about sharing a heated moment with your annoying yet super sexy and famous neighbor, mere days after reporting him to the authorities, was having no one to talk to about it.

Lily is too young, and even if she wasn’t, she’s too involved. As for Gina, I’m not ready to hear her sass. I need to get a friend.

You already did…and then you kissed him and ran.

I groan, digging my hands into my hair, grabbing a fistful of my brown locks, leaning against my bedroom door, and slumping slowly to the floor. Running away like that was dramatic, yes, even for me. But it was all too…impulsive? Sudden, maybe? Spontaneous? Whatever it is, I’m just uncomfortable with the pace between us lately.

One second, I hate Brian. The next, I feel bad for him. The next, I’m hot for him. And then, I’m all over him. I was already acting like a high school teen, so adding runaway to the mix wasn’t that bad, I guess.

My phone buzzes on my bed, the bright light illuminating the darkness of my room.

I don’t move. It can’t be Brian. The last time he called was the evening before, and then he stopped. However, I get up and walk to my phone to find his name dancing on my screen.

Goodness, the pang of guilt that squeezes my chest each time I see it. I sigh.

It has also been hard to focus on work. I haven’t been able to write anything substantial since the incident two nights ago, and just as Gina had predicted, I was beginning to drag the second book out.

I need to get back to work and stay focused. It will be the perfect distraction. Determined to get Brian out of my system for one evening, I place my hands on the floor to push myself up from it.

Alright, Jessica. You had a life before he came, and that life is still waiting for you.

It takes me dragging my feet for a few minutes to get to Lily’s room. It’s one of my midnight routines. I bend her door handle slowly before cracking it enough to peek through.

Warmth spreads through my body. She’s sleeping peacefully, her blanket draping on the floor as she lies scattered on the bed.

I push the door open a bit more. A sharp screeching sound tears through the silence, forcing me to wince, but she doesn’t flinch. With a relieved sigh, I return her blanket to her body and kiss her forehead.

She fills me with peace. At least I can be wrapped up in my love for her so that I don’t worry about Brian.

I need to write. Hesitantly, I return to my bedroom. When I settle down at my work desk, I re-read the last few lines multiple times.

Get to it, Jessica.

I jot down a few bullet points. Soon, the notes effortlessly translate into sentences and bloom into full scenes. I somehow manage to break through my fatigue and tell a story. It’s mediocre at best, but it’s a decent start.

A reflection comes into peripheral view. I turn to my window to make out the movement…it’s Brian, shirtless.

Look away.

My feet refuse to cooperate with my brain. My gaze lingers on him as he stands in front of his mirror getting dressed. It’s a stunning antique full-length mirror at the foot of the bed. Immediately, forbidden thoughts flood my imagination.

What has he done in this room? I shake my head, attempting to dismiss the taboo images from my mind, but it doesn’t work.

He turns around, and OMG—his lower back is divine. It’s sculpted like a potter spent extra time delicately adding muscle tone to each end. I desperately need a fan to cool down these overwhelming sensations.

“I think now would be a good time to add some smut to my story,” I say to myself, trying to ignore the tingling feelings that course through my veins.

I need help. I scoot my chair closer to my desk and return my attention to my laptop. After a few minutes of non-stop typing, I re-read what might just be the most stimulating thing I’ve written in a while.

Before Brian, the intimate scenes in my stories felt stale and monotonous, even to me. But then, as if by some divine intervention, I find a gentler approach. I let Brian guide the scene in my visions, his tender touch drawing me into a world of deep and exquisite desire.

I hear a knock on my door, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. Who could possibly be at my door at this hour?

Disappointed that my immoral inspiration has been cut short, I grunt and walk downstairs.

“Hold on,” I yell.

I reach the door, unlock it, and peek out. There stands Brian on my porch, clad in the silk, buttoned-up, long-sleeved shirt I watched him don a few minutes ago, a bottle of Chardonnay in his hands.

Can today get any better? Here I am, dreaming of steamy scenarios for my novel, and this hot man approaches me in the dead of the night with my favorite bottle of wine. How did he know?

“This must be the devil.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said it’s way past eleven,” I correct myself, raising my voice slightly.

“Oh, sorry, I just…it took a long time for me to decide to come here, and I know you work at night, so...”

His eyes are dark, but I can see the silent plea in them from the way he stares into my eyes.

I may have to let the devil win tonight. “Wanna come in?”

“Sure do.”

I step back and open the door wider for him to walk through. He slips past the door quickly, his eyes glowing with anticipation as he enters the corridor.

“This way,” I gesture, closing the door, walking past him. I can hear his slow steps behind me, and suddenly, I’m aware of how fast I’m walking. I want to slow down, but I might just end up falling.

We step into the living room, and I sit on the couch before pointing at the sofa opposite mine.

But he doesn’t see me. His eyes are gliding off the walls of my home, his face calm as he takes in every detail of my decor.

“It’s nice…what you’ve done with your place.”

He crosses past my legs and sits down next to me, close enough to remind me of that musky-sweet smell of his.

Goodness. Where is that darn fan?