Sweeter Than Fiction

Chapter Seven

Abby

Meow.

Meow.

Meow.

Snowball tries to get my attention from the doorway.

Not looking away from my computer screen, I snap, “Hush.”

But the meowing only gets louder. The only time he gives me this much hell is when he’s hungry. It’s really the only time he pays me any attention at all.

“Dude, you’re fine. There’s no way you can be hungry. It’s only—” I look at the clock and realize I’ve been working way later than I thought. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Snowball.”

Usually, I’m chomping at the bit to be done for the evening. But when I get in a good rhythm, the rest of the world falls away, and I get lost in what I’m doing.

Saving my work, I turn off my computer and head into the kitchen. Once the cats are fed, and Snowball is quiet, I decide to head in for a nice, relaxing bubble bath. Despite my ergonomic desk chair, my neck and back are usually still super tight by the end of the night.

While the tub fills up, I add some bubbles and then light some candles. If I’m going to relax, may as well do it right. My final touch is turning on my smutty audiobook.

I step into the hot water and lean back against my inflatable neck pillow. The sound of my audiobook fills the air around me. There’s nothing better than sitting in a relaxing bath, listening to a scene where a woman is getting railed in a sundress over a balcony.

I love to read, but audiobooks have been a godsend. Now, I can get in a ton of books while I do other things. I used to read a ton of mystery books, and I was into true crime for a while. But too much of that had me terrified all the time that I was going to me murdered. I panicked and even bought a taser.

I quickly realized that no good can come from an extremely clumsy girl owning an electrified weapon.

After my first smutty romance book, I was hooked. And it didn’t take me long to figure out that the dark stuff was really my jam. Give me a dark and broody guy with a soft spot for only his girl and some kinky sex, and I’m good.

I love it.

Which is kind of funny because in my real life, I’m pretty vanilla. Sure, my vibrator gets a workout as I imagine all the dirty stuff I listen to. But I’ve never actually tried any of the kinky stuff for real. Doggy style is about the extent of my sexual exploration with a partner.

It’s not that I’m opposed to being more adventurous, but I’ve never trusted anyone enough to get into it. Plus, none of my past partners gave me any inclination that they would be any good at it.

I feel my eyes getting heavy as I slip into total relaxation mode. I’m completely at peace.

Until I begin to fall asleep and jolt myself back to reality. That wouldn’t have been good. I fall asleep and drown in the tub. I’m reminded yet again of my spinsterhood. I wonder what the water would do to me if I was in it for an extended amount of time.

I’m sure that I really don’t want to know.

Lord knows I wouldn’t have many coming to look for me. My parents certainly wouldn’t. We barely tolerate each other on holidays. Going for weeks on end without talking to them is pretty common.

I have two brothers, but we aren’t all that close. It’s not like they ever just drop by unannounced—or even call me without a reason.

And Jenson is avoiding me. After the angry voicemails and texts I sent, I’m sure he’s waiting until I calm down.

I wonder if Don would notice when he didn’t see me around. Probably not. I don’t think I make a lasting impression.

Plus, we had one night together, watching Gilmore Girls and eating Chinese food. That doesn’t make us friends. He was just being nice to me because I was such a mess.

It was nothing more.

I’m not about to trick myself into thinking that this is some romance novel where the super hot guy falls for the nerdy girl. Things like that don’t happen in the real world—especially to girls like me.

Now that my mind is racing, I know that my relaxing bath has come to an end. I wash my body and spend a second wondering if I should shave my legs.

Eh, what’s the point? No one is going to know if I look like Sasquatch under my pants.

Instead, I get out and start to dry off. Wrapping myself in a towel, I head for the bedroom. After I’m dressed in some comfy pajamas, I get ready for a relaxing evening of knitting, but a knock on the door sidetracks me.

I look through the peephole and see Don standing there.

Why is he back?

Slowly opening the door, I greet, “Hey, Don. Everything okay?’

“Yeah. I just thought I could get you back for the Chinese food last night.”

I was so busy looking at his gorgeous face that I didn’t even notice the pizza box he carries in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other.

“Uhm, okay. Come on in,” I say, opening the door wider and stepping out of the way.

Once he’s inside, I take the beer to put in the fridge. “You know, you don’t have to do this,” I tell him. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

“I know. I figured we both have to eat. May as well see if you want to do it together.”

Grabbing plates, paper towels, and two of the beers, I meet him on the couch. “Well, thank you.”

“I guess I could have texted first,” he says. We have each other’s numbers just in case of emergencies. “I should have made sure this was okay.”

I hold my hand up to stop him. “Hey, you’re feeding me. I’m not about to start bitching.”

“Still, I should’ve made sure you weren’t busy.”

“Ha!” I cackle. When I see the look of confusion on his face, I add, “Sorry. It’s just funny because I’m literally never busy.”

“You just had a date last night.”

“And look how that turned out. I don’t plan on going on another one any time soon.”

As he gets us each out a slice of pizza, I ask, “What about you? Shouldn’t you be out looking for the next hottie to bring home for the evening?”

“Nah. Not tonight. Figured I’d come here and see if you wanted to continue Gilmore Girls.”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” I joke.

“Is the pizza okay?” He asks. “I didn’t know what you liked on it, so I kept it simple.”

“Yeah, it’s good,” I tell him, leaving out the fact that the cheese will have my stomach revolting against me by tomorrow.

“I’m still trying to figure out where the best pizzas are. In New York, there’s roughly a million pizza joints.”

I laugh. “Give or take a few. I’m a life-long New Yorker, so I can give you a few of my favorites sometime if you want.”

“That would be great.” He takes a bite. “So, do you like living in New York?”

“It’s my favorite place in the whole world—not that I’ve ever been a lot of other places.”

“What’s the best thing about New York?”

I think for a moment, trying to narrow it down to just one thing. Finally, I settle on, “It’s just like its own little world. Anything and everything you need is right here. It’s just its own self-contained biome.”

He chuckles a little.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“I like my small town back home for the same reason. It’s its own little world. I never thought that you could compare that town to New York.”

“Where’s that small town?”

“Nebraska. The small town isn’t too far from Omaha.”

I smile. “Nebraska, huh? That makes total sense.”

“Oh, yeah? Why do you say that?”

“Because you are just so…nice.”

He laughs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I feel my cheeks turning red as I worry I may have offended him. “No! Not a bad thing,” I try to backtrack. “It’s really not. Just that kind of attitude isn’t all that common around here. It’s…refreshing. It’s…”

“Weird?” He finishes for me. “I’m just giving you shit. I know that I stick out like a sore thumb in New York.”

“Not looks-wise,” I defend. “You’ve got the whole dark and brooding thing going on, which fits in well. But then, I get to know you, and you’re just so nice. Clearly a Midwestern trait.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. Do you think New Yorkers aren’t nice?”

“It’s not that. People are just busy with their own lives. Things move so fast around here that it can be hard to keep up. The nice is still there; it just takes a little bit to find. People have their own business and don’t tend to get into other’s.”

“That’s all people do in small towns.”

I point at him. “That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

“I won’t lie. It can be a pain sometimes.”

“Do you feel right at home when we watch Gilmore Girls?” I tease.

“No. No one in Nebraska talks nearly that fast. But something about it is oddly comforting.”

I go to grab the remote to turn it on, but I stop before hitting play. Just like last night, I need a little more clarification.

“Hey, Don?” I ask before taking another drink of beer. I prefer wine, but beer pairs better with pizza.

“Yes, Abby?”

I try not to get all tingly at the way my name sounds in that deep baritone of his.

Focus, Abby.

“Why’d you come back tonight? And don’t give me some bullshit about how you just wanted to pay me back for last night. It can’t just be that. I know you probably have a list of hot chicks you could be hooking up with right now instead of watching Gilmore Girls with me.”

He puts his slice of pizza down. “Do you really want to know? It sounds kind of lame.”

“Oh, I am the queen of lame. Try me.”

“Sure, I could find a random woman to take home with me. And we could fuck and have a good time.”

There’s the tingly feeling again.

“But that whole scene is just getting old. Yeah, it can be fun. It’s just…I want something more. And I don’t think I am going to find it with a slew of women that I have nothing in common with. My sister suggested maybe I try to cool it with the sex for a while.”

He continues, “To be honest with you, Abby, I don’t have a lot of friends here in New York—or any really. Hanging out with you last night was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Feel free to tell me if what I’m about to say totally freaks you out, but I’d like it if maybe you and I could be friends.”

“Friends?” I ask.

“Yeah. You know, that thing where two people hang out, exchange some pleasant conversation, and get to know each other better.”

I roll my eyes. “I know what friends are.”

“I’m just getting tired of hanging out with women who only want me for either my money or my cock.”

“You mean there’s more to you than that?” I joke. “Well, I just don’t know if this friendship is going to work out.”

“See? That’s what I like about you. You’re not afraid to give me some shit. Most women I’ve been around as of late seem like they’re putting on an act. You seem much more real.”

“Maybe you’re just too trusting. Maybe I’m just trying to take advantage of you—earn your trust and then, rob you blind.”

“I doubt that.”

“How do you know?” I ask.

He leans in as though he’s about to tell me some big secret. “You and I live in the same apartment building. I doubt our income is all that different.”

Not wanting to continue down the money road, I ask, “So, we just be friends?”

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want to.”

I think for a moment. Besides Jenson, I don’t have much of a social life. And my best friend’s social calendar is so full that I don’t actually seem him all that often. Hanging out with Don feels surprisingly normal. And that is rare coming from someone with extreme social anxiety. Maybe it’s the fact that I know there’s nothing between us.

Whatever it is, it would be nice to have someone to hang out with without any expectations. As Don said, just a friend.

“Okay,” I finally answer. “Friends would be nice.”

I say the words, but deep down, I wonder exactly how long this is going to last before Don decides he needs to get laid again.

Lord knows it’s not going to be with me.