Sweeter Than Fiction

Chapter Eleven

Abby

It’s been a few days since I’ve heard from Don. I guess whatever happened at work has kept him pretty busy.

Or maybe your audiobook completely freaked him out.

I know that the phone call to Don was legit. Clearly, he wasn’t faking any of that. But I question if his silence may be due to my dirty books.

I never meant for him to hear any of it. Really, I don’t want anyone to hear it, let alone my fine-as-hell neighbor. I’m not embarrassed of my reading habits. I don’t give a shit what anybody thinks. But that doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.

And let’s face it. Some men can’t accept that women might actually enjoy sexual things as much as them.

So much for having a friend to hang out with.

My evenings have been much less eventful without Don around. I tried turning on Gilmore Girls, but I didn’t feel right watching it without him. I guess I better get used to it if he’s not going to be around.

Instead, I’ve been burying myself in work and knitting while binging audiobooks.

Pretty much back to my normal routine.

Since I’ve been staying up later than normal—due to my obsession with just one more chapter, I am more tired than usual. I get cozy on the couch, and Whiskers even jumps up to cuddle. I turn on some boring show on Netflix that will put me straight to sleep. It’s almost worked when a soft knock on the door jolts me back awake.

I’m still so out of it that I don’t even bother to look through the peephole. Let’s hope it’s not a murderer.

When I open the door, there stands Don. He leans against one side of the doorframe with his hands shoved in his pockets. When he looks at me, I can see how exhausted he looks.

“Hi,” he says with a small smile.

“Hey. I think I owe you an apology.”

“For what?” I ask.

“For basically ghosting on you the last few days. I had to deal with a shit show at work and then, it was just a domino effect.” He stops himself. “It doesn’t matter. I should have let you know that I wasn’t just being a dick.”

Man, he really is just so nice.

“Don, it’s okay. I know you have a life.”

“Trust me when I say I’d much rather have been here hanging out with you.”

Something about his words makes me feel good. Better than I’ve felt in a long time.

Before I can say anything, he keeps going. “I was hoping you’d let me make it up to you.”

“Oh?”

“I know it’s late tonight, but maybe tomorrow, you’d like to hang out.”

Trying not to sound too eager, I reply, “Yeah, of course.”

“Will you let me make you dinner?”

“You want to cook for me?”

He nods. “How does spaghetti sound?”

I process for a moment, trying to run through the ingredients in my head to make sure I’m not allergic to any of them.

“Spaghetti sounds great.”

He shoots me a half smile. “Great. Can’t wait.”

Surprisingly, neither can I.

The following day, I once again do a deep dive into my work. It helps to pass the time a little faster.

When I finally finish up for the evening, I shower before heading over to Don’s. Usually, when I get done showering, I immediately put on my pajamas, but since I am technically leaving my apartment, I opt for leggings and an oversized sweater.

I will choose comfort over beauty almost a hundred percent of the time. Hell, the other night I dressed up, and look what happened there. If that wasn’t a bad omen, I don’t know what is. At least if I had been in my normal clothes, I could’ve been comfortable while on a terrible date.

After I’m all ready, I head next door. Before I can knock, the bathrobe guy on the other side of me peeks his head out and looks me up and down.

His disapproving look makes me roll my eyes.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take Don long to answer. When he does, I see that he’s also opted for comfortable clothing. He’s wearing a form-fitting black t-shirt, and…

Oh dear God, he’s wearing sweatpants.

Some grey sweatpants.

How is it that I wear sweats, and I look like a bum, yet he looks like most women’s wet dream?

Obnoxious.

“Hey, come on in.”

Stopping just on the other side of the door, I pause for a moment to look around. This is my first time being in here. Although it’s basically the same layout as mine, that’s where the similarities end.

Don was right. He hasn’t decorated much, but it’s not like it looks empty. It just has a much cleaner and more organized feel to it. More minimalistic. And almost everything is black and white.

“Nice place,” I tell him as he walks toward the open kitchen.

“Thanks. To be honest, I haven’t done much to it. The only stuff I brought with me was my bedroom furniture and my clothes. Everything else I sold back in Nebraska. All of the other furniture and stuff you see here is all rented.”

“Not wanting to fully settle in?” I ask.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure exactly how long I was going to be in New York.”

“Oh?” I ask, trying not to sound too concerned.

“Originally, I got my job here because I did work for a guy back home. He liked the job I did and told me he was doing an apartment building here, so I moved. I was a little worried that I wouldn’t be able to find work when it was all over.”

“And now?”

He smiles at me. “I think it’s time to buy some furniture.”

Without even having to ask, he walks over and hands me a glass of wine while he opens a beer for himself.

As I take a sip, I almost choke as my attention is drawn elsewhere.

My eyes shoot right down to where they shouldn’t. As he’s walking across the room, I can see the outline of his dick through the thin material of the sweatpants.

And good lord, it’s impressive. It’s not even hard, and I can tell it’s a decent size.

Stop staring, Abby.

I can see why women seem to enjoy themselves when they go to bed with him.

“So, how was your day?” Don asks, pulling me from my dirty thoughts.

“Long,” I reply.

Not the only thing that’s long.

Stop it, Abby.

“Forgive me for asking this, Abs. But what exactly is it that you do?”

“I write computer software and programs. Sometimes, I’m contracted out for specific projects for different companies. And in my free time, I do freelance projects and sell them. My last one was actually bought by the U.S. military.”

Don’s eyebrows raise. “Whoa. What was the project?”

“Per my non-disclosure agreement, I can’t say.”

“Mysterious.” He smiles. “I like that. If you told me, would you have to kill me?”

“No. But people inside black helicopters would show up and do it for me,” I joke.

I watch him grab two plates off the counter and take them to his coffee table. Knowing it’s spaghetti, and I’m extremely messy, I opt to sit on the floor to be closer to the plate.

As we dig in, I say, “Wow, this is really good.”

“Surprised?”

I let out a small giggle. “Kind of.”

“I like to cook. Most nights, I’m just too tired from work to bother.”

“Speaking of work, did you get everything handled the other night?”

“Yeah. I had to get a whole new security company in there, but I think we’re on the right path.”

“That’s good,” I say, not sure what else I could add on the subject.

“I’m sorry again for not reaching out. I was just spending a ton of time at the site.”

“Really, it’s fine. I figured that’s what it was. Although…”

“Although what?”

I already feel my face turning red. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“I doubt that it’s stupid. Come on, tell me.”

For a little courage, I take a hearty sip of wine. “I sort of wondered if you were secretly freaked out by my audiobook.”

He looks confused. “Why would that freak me out?”

“Uhm…I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I just know that it may freak some guys out.”

He looks almost offended. “That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard. It shouldn’t matter what you like to read…or listen to. Everybody has their own entertainment. Every man I know watches porn, myself included. So, I think me having a problem with your books would be a little hypocritical.”

“I guess you’re right. I just didn’t think anyone would actually hear what I was listening to.”

“Fair enough. I’d probably feel weird if someone went through examining the porn I was looking at.”

“I’m a little surprised that you sometimes take matters into your own hands,” I say.

“Why?”

“Because you’re so…” I try to think of the words. “You know, you go home with a lot of women.”

He laughs. “I guess so. But sometimes, you just need to get off without going through all the hassle.”

Don’t I know it? My vibrator gets quite the workout on a daily basis.

Not that I’m going to offer up that information.

“But I have to ask,” he begins. “The book you were listening to. Is that what you’re into?”

Immediately, my face begins to redden and warm again. “I like listening to a lot of things, but yeah, most have the same general idea.”

His blue eyes flick back to mine. “And what about in your real life?”

I work my bottom lip between my teeth. “Uh, I’m not exactly sure. I’ve never really been with someone long enough to find out what I really like.”

Realizing what I just said, I proceed to start rambling. “I mean, I’m not a virgin or anything. I’ve done it. Lots of times. Well, not lots. It’s just that none of the guys were very good at it, so I didn’t want to keep going. Like you said, sometimes, it’s better to just do it yourself.”

For the love of God, Abby, stop talking!

But I’m not done. “I have no idea if I like the kinky sex type stuff. Or when a guy takes charge.”

Don interrupts with a big smile on his face. “You don’t know if you like being called a good girl?”

If my face gets any redder, I worry it may catch fire. “No. Uh, I have no idea if I like that either.”

Well, if he didn’t think you were a freak before, he probably does now. Way to go, Abby.

Wanting to get the spotlight off of me, I stammer, “What about you?”

“Oh, Abs, I only like being called a good girl on really special occasions,” he jokes.

“I mean what kind of stuff are you into?”

“Whatever the woman I’m with is into.”

I roll my eyes. “That answer seems like a copout.”

“It’s the truth. If there’s something she wants to try, usually, I’ll give it a go. It all depends on the woman and what she likes. But if I have my choice, I like being in charge.”

I don”t know what to say, so Don speaks again. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

My eyes go wide, suddenly fearful that he’s about to suggest something from the topic we’ve been discussing.

Abby, don’t freak out. And whatever you do, don’t look down at his grey sweatpants.

Too late.

I looked.

Motherfucker.

Seeing my wheels turning, Don leans In to speak in a low voice. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to get pizza and watch Gilmore Girls.”

“Oh,” I let out a nervous giggle. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

As attractive as Don is and as curious as I’ve been while hearing things through the walls, there’s no way we’d take things further.

We’re supposed to be friends, right? Adding sex to that seems to defeat the purpose.

Plus, I’m fairly sure Don would be extremely disappointed with me in that way. I’m not anything like those leggy models.

Just now processing what he just said, I ask, “Can we do something besides pizza, though?”

“Sure. Was the pizza I got last time not any good?”

“No, that’s not it. I love pizza. It just doesn’t like me. I’m lactose intolerant, and the cheese just messes me up.”

“Shit, Abs, I had no idea. Why didn’t you say anything? I didn’t mean to make you sick.”

“Don, it’s fine. I still eat dairy every once in a while. It just gives me a stomach ache, so I try to avoid it as much as possible.”

He nods. “Of course. We’ll figure something else out.”

We talk a little while longer before deciding to call it a night.

As Don is holding the door open for me, he says, “Go get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” I joke with a small salute.

A small, devious smile crosses his lips. “Good girl.”

I know he’s just kidding, but his words give me all the tingles. I immediately picture his deep voice saying those words in a completely different context.

Okay, I definitely like it.