2. James
CHAPTER 2
JAMES
Even looking up from the front gate by the pool, I can see the curvy sway of Hallie’s ass as she storms off to her apartment. That went well, I think to myself, flinching when her door slams shut. I know her unreserved hatred for me is my own fault, but I can’t help myself. There’s something about trying to get under her skin that I find irresistible. It’s become a bit of a game for me, seeing how quickly I can get her riled up.
Along with the fun of poking at her until her cheeks turn pink with a combination of rage and discomfort, I also can’t help but be intrigued by my uptight neighbor. I’ve been observing her ever since I moved in next door, and I’ve found that she is not like any other woman I’ve met. First of all—it’s clear that Hallie can’t stand me. She couldn’t make it more obvious. If that woman got paid by the eyeroll, disapproving scoff, or arms crossed defensively over her chest, she would be extremely wealthy. And then there’s the way her eyes flash with a burnt orange hue, as if they were on fire. That always gets me right in the gut.
Admittedly, I thought Hallie was just playing hard to get at first. She’s not the type to fall all over a guy, so I figured she was going to make it a challenge for me—which only made me want her more. A woman who is actually immune to my charms? It had been a long time since I found anyone like that. Maybe it’s cocky, but it’s true. No use in being falsely modest about it. I can get any woman I want—at least, that used to be the case, until I met Hallie.
Despite the constant signals that she finds me somewhere between distasteful and disgusting, I still thought she would eventually drop her guard—and her panties. I had a little wager with myself that I could get her into bed within a couple of weeks, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Eventually it became clear that my new neighbor truly wanted nothing to do with me. That was a long time ago now and she hasn’t warmed to me in the slightest. If anything, her disdain has only grown. Whatever. There are plenty of more than interested women, a fact made evident by what Hallie refers to as my revolving door. I’m certainly not lacking for female companionship.
And yet…I can’t deny there is something about her that’s gotten to me. Messing with her is amusing and getting her heated up and offended is a fun way to start my day, but even when she’s not around, I find myself thinking about her from time to time. It catches me off guard when it happens, how I’ll sometimes unconsciously linger by the front gate in hopes of running into her. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until I see her coming out of her apartment and my chest tightens.
I’ve never put this kind of thought into a person I hardly know, a person who openly disdains my very existence. I’ll be at the shop and hear someone walk in, and for a split second when I see long brown hair or a pair of slender shoulders, my breath will catch in my throat, or my stomach does a flip. It only takes a second to pull myself out of it—until today Hallie had no idea I even owned the shop—but the feeling is strong enough in the moment to linger with me for the rest of the day. Those are the days when I sleep alone at night, thinking about the woman on the other side of the wall.
Christ, what the hell is wrong with me? I wonder, still staring up at Hallie’s closed apartment door when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I shake my head, checking my phone to find a text from one of last week’s hook ups. Hey you, it’s Aubrey. Aubrey…Aubrey…I wrack my head, trying to remember which one she was. The girl from Padman’s who came over to my table? That one’s confidence was sexy as hell, especially since I was having dinner with a friend. Or maybe the wild one in the green dress who pulled me into the bathroom at Second Street and ripped the buttons off my shirt. There was a third last week, but I’m sure her name was Kelley…at least that’s what was on her nametag at the coffee shop.
Shit. This is why I don’t give out my number to one-night stands. I never lead anyone on, and I always make it clear that I’m just looking for a hookup. I might like to screw around, but I refuse to take advantage of anyone. Which makes me wonder…how the hell did Aubrey, whoever she is, get my number?
My phone buzzes with a second text asking if I want to get together again, accompanied by a bright red lips emoji and an eggplant. My dick twitches in my pants, always up for a good time. If it weren’t for my bedroom proclivities, the only women I’d interact with would be my clients and my mother, but as it is, I can’t seem to swear them off entirely. I’m tempted to text Aubrey back, especially when she sends a sexy selfie, and I realize she’s the woman I met standing in line at the bank—a raven-haired gymnast with insane flexibility I’ve never experienced before. We had a great time together and the sex was amazing. But as much as I enjoyed the way she could tuck her feet behind her head, I’m not about to break my rule—never more than one night. I’ve given up on relationships and any other entanglements. Been there, done that. I’m all for having fun and keeping it free and easy, but that’s all I’m up for. I refuse to get my heart broken again. I learned the hard way just how much it hurts.
“So, what did you say to her?” Ollie asks, handing my phone back to me.
“Nothing,” I shrug.
“Nothing?” Ollie’s eyebrows go up and I can see the disapproval in his eyes as he stares at me from across the high-top bar table. “You didn’t call her even to say no?”
Aubrey’s text is still unanswered on my phone, but I’ll probably delete it tonight just to avoid temptation.
“I already had plans with you,” I point out, lifting my pint glass and taking a sip of beer, staring absently at the playoff game on the screen behind the bar.
“That’s never stopped you in the past,” Ollie says.
I laugh, knowing he’s right. In fact, Ollie was the friend I was with at Padman’s when the woman came over to our table and asked what I was doing later that night. We hooked up at a club the next block over before I took her back to my place while Ollie went home to his wife.
Of course, there was a time when Ollie would have been right by my side, my wingman, my ride-or-die, but things changed when he met Jessica. I can’t blame him—he’s got what I used to have, what I thought I wanted. He seems genuinely happy to be married, but Jessica better not do anything to hurt him. As much as I’d like to have things back the way they used to be—me and Ollie against the world—the last thing I want is for my best friend to go through what happened to me. They seem to be deeply in love, but there was a time when I thought I’d be with the same woman for the rest of my life, too. Things don’t always go the way you plan.
“I’m going to have to make it an early night,” Ollie says, checking the time on his phone. “I told Jessica I wouldn’t be out too late.”
“What?” I groan in disapproval. “You’re kidding right?”
“Sorry, buddy,” Ollie shrugs. “I have responsibilities now.”
“But after our dinner got cut short last week?—”
“That was on you,” Ollie interjects.
“—I thought we’d be able to stay out late tonight like old times.” I gesture to the TV where New York has taken the lead. “It’s game seven! You can’t go home before it’s over.”
“Since when do you care about baseball?” Ollie laughs.
“Whatever, man,” I sigh. “That’s not the point. The point is that you used to be fun.”
“I still am,” Ollie insists. “It’s just a different kind of fun. We have to grow up some time, you know. We can’t be doing the bar scene forever.”
“Why the hell not?” I ask, finishing my beer and signaling to the bartender for another.
“Don’t you think it’s time you got serious?” Ollie asks, his eyebrows raised again, judging me. “Are you ever going to settle down?”
The bartender sets the full pint glass down in front of me and looks over at Ollie, who shakes his head. He still has half a beer left and I’m guessing it’s going to be his last. As if to compensate for my friend’s lack of fun, I pick up my new beer and drink half of it in a couple of long gulps.
“I tried settling down,” I bitterly remind him, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “It didn’t work out so well, if you recall.”
Ollie lets out a long breath, the compassion filling his eyes, though it looks a lot like pity to me.
“Look, I know Simone wrecked you,” he says softly, “but you have to take another chance or else you’re going to die miserable and alone.”
A familiar pain radiates through my chest, an ache in my heart that’s always there and gets worse whenever I think about just how badly my ex messed me up.
“No,” I say, reaching for my beer again. “I don’t have to take another chance. Not now and not ever.”
Just as I thought, Ollie leaves the bar when he’s done with his one and only beer. Jessica has an early meeting tomorrow and when Ollie gets home late, it messes with her sleep or something.
Staring down into my beer, I can hear Ollie’s voice in my head, telling me I need to take another chance. I wonder for a moment what that would look like. How would it feel to open my heart to a woman, to give love a chance. I take out my phone and pull up Aubrey’s text message. She was smoking hot, but also pretty funny and interesting. I think she said she was a dental hygienist or an orthotist. She seemed pretty smart. Maybe I could text her back, get to know her, see what it feels like to be with the same woman more than once.
But immediately I can see further into the future, getting attached, forming a bond, thinking she’s the one, only to find out that she never really loved me after all. Suddenly I’m back to where I started, pouring whiskey into my travel coffee mug, taking sips throughout the day to dull the pain, going to bed drunk the moment the sun sets. I can’t go through that again. I won’t.
With a deep breath, I sit up straight and stare ahead of me at the game on the screen. New York is still up. I fucking hate those guys. As I hold out my empty glass to the bartender—someone new, there must have been a shift change—I notice a woman at the end of the bar looking over at me. I try not to look back at her, but there’s something about her that captures my attention, something that feels familiar. It’s entirely possible that I’ve taken her home before. I’m not proud of how quickly I forget these women’s names and faces, but it’s just easier for me that way. Still, she’s watching me so intently that I can’t help but go over to talk to her. My bed gets cold at night when I’m alone.
“Hey, this is embarrassing, but you look so familiar. Have we met before?” I ask, praying I haven’t slept with this girl as I slide onto the stool next to hers.
She smiles and brushes her long brown hair back behind her shoulders.
“No, but I get that all the time,” she replies. “I guess I just have one of those ordinary faces that looks like someone people know.”
“No way,” I tell her with a smile, falling into my usual routine, stroking her face with my knuckles, looking directly into her eyes. “There’s nothing ordinary about you.”
She giggles and looks away shyly, but then turns back to make sure I’m still watching her. She’s got a routine, too. A way to draw men to her. She knows the game and likely won’t be asking for my number tomorrow morning. After a couple of drinks, she suggests we go to her place. The baseball game is over; New York blew it in the ninth.
“That sounds like a great idea,” I reply with a smile, gesturing to the bartender for the bill.
I put a fifty on the bar and stand up from the barstool, finishing the last of my beer. We leave the bar together and when we’re outside under the streetlight, I get a better look at her face, and it hits me why she seems so familiar. The long brown hair, the copper-colored eyes—she reminds me of Hallie.
“Is something wrong?” the woman asks, giving me a confused look as I freeze up on the sidewalk.
“I, um, I’m sorry,” I mumble, trying to collect myself. “I forgot. I have somewhere else to be.”
“Oh,” she replies, caught off guard.
“Yeah, sorry,” I apologize again. “Raincheck?”
I leave without asking for her number.
The pool lights at the apartment complex make the water shimmer, a dizzying effect as I stumble by, feeling the night of heavy drinking catching up with me. I reach for the railing as I climb the stairs, needing to steady myself. At the top of the landing, I take a deep breath in through my nose and hold it for a moment before I exhale. I love a quality glass of bourbon—neat—but for the most part, I’m not much of a drinker now. Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that some nights the inclination to throw back cheap beer after cheap beer like I’m in college again still sneaks up on me. I can sleep it off and be fine in the morning.
I’m already feeling a little less foggy as I make my way to my apartment, but as I pass by Hallie’s door, I notice her light is still on. Pausing for a moment, I imagine her in her bed, dressed in sexy negligee with her hand between her thighs. I can see myself walking into the room and climbing under the covers with her, pulling her into my arms, replacing her hand with my own, making her moan as I kiss her supple lips. My cock starts to go hard and I quickly back away from Hallie’s door, stopping myself from taking the fantasy any further. What the hell is wrong with me? I need to get it together. The only reason I can’t seem to get this girl out of my head is because she wants nothing to do with me. Once I sleep with her, I’ll be able to disregard her like all the rest.