T W E N T Y T W O
T W E N T YT W O
- Oliver -
I didn’t mean to open the package. I was on the phone with Mac, sharing my big idea, when the box came, and I wasn’t paying attention. But when I saw the contents of the box, arranged artfully atop pink tissue paper, I was no longer listening to Mac.
I flipped the lid over. “Elaine Seinfeld?”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing, sorry. Go on.” Number Seven’s name was Elaine Seinfeld? Seemed odd. The lube, on the other hand, looked… berry intriguing.
“Who should I take the idea to first?” Mac asked.
I pinched the lacy, black negligee between my fingers and lifted it from the box, revealing a pair of matching panties so skimpy my brain short-circuited. Was my dick hard from Mac biting on my business idea or from opening someone else’s smut mail? Could I go to jail for this? No. Enough. I put the kinky items back in the box. “I have to go,” I said, wondering if the leash had been a good present after all.
I set the phone down, unworried about leaving Mac’s question hanging in the air, least of all because answering it was his job, not mine. Then I stood back, stared at the box, and tried not to picture Avery in the lingerie. But I couldn’t help myself. She was the hottest woman I knew, and it was obvious that my mind would settle for any excuse to think about her.
I needed to tell her I lived in this building.
Also, I needed to make amends with my annoying neighbor pronto because shit just got awkward, and I wasn’t having fun anymore.
…Not that there wasn’t fun to be had.
I imagined renting a UPS costume, complete with tight, bunching shorts, and showing up on her doorstep to reveal I had her package the whole time. Except the fantasy wasn’t enticing if I imagined anyone besides Avery opening the door, which didn’t shed any light on what I was supposed to do with this stuff.
Would Elaine want me to apologize? Or would she rather I reseal the contents and redeliver it discreetly. My gut told me the latter, but I’d invaded her privacy so brazenly it seemed unfair to get off so lightly. Then I Googled “Elaine Seinfeld” and realized it was probably a pseudonym, and I likely hadn’t invaded her privacy at all.
I sighed. What to do, what to do.
My phone pinged, and to my surprise, it wasn’t Mac having a fit.
“How do you keep in such great shape?”
I smiled at Avery’s text. We’d been messaging each other at regular intervals. The perfect amount. I was falling for her fast, counting down the minutes till I’d get to see her tattoos up close, and she was getting closer to seeing how talented my tongue truly was.
“Are you hitting on me?” I asked.
“Oh come on. If you have to ask…”
“I cycle my ass off, if you must know.”
“Do you wear tight shorts?”
I leaned against the kitchen counter as I typed. “On request.” The truth was I always wore tight shorts. Not only did they help protect the family jewels, but being in uncomfortable clothes kept me from sitting on the couch instead of the bike. I missed road biking, to be honest, but it lost its appeal after my ex’s accident.
“I’ve been looking at the menu for the place tomorrow and it’s Greek to me… or should I say, Nepalese.”
“Guess you’ll have to eat what I give you.” When she didn’t answer right away, my heart rate sped up.
“Guess I’ll have to come hungry.”
I shook my head, utterly charmed by the fact that she could give as good as she could take.
What would she think if she knew I was the kind of guy who opened other people’s mail? I shuddered. It was an honest mistake, but I still felt bad about it. Maybe I’d feel better if I removed the box from the kitchen. Or regifted it to Avery.
Not that I’d do that, but damn. She’d look so moreish in that sheer black negligee. Hell, she’d look even better without it. “Tonight’s the night,” I said, knowing a spicy, romantic meal would be the perfect foreplay for a feisty woman like her.
“The night for what?”
“The night you invite me up for a drink, and I offer you a place to sit.”
“Whoa.”
Her reaction came back so fast I had to laugh and adjust myself.
“Guess you’ll have to play your cards right,” she added.
Could she sense I was feeling lucky? “Guess you should know I only play if I’m prepared to go all in.”
“So much for holding ’em close to your chest.”
“Yeah, it’s much too late for that,” I agreed. “But you already know I’m not taking you out because I want to hold my own hand.”
The dots danced across the screen as she typed. “Punny,” she said. “Do you gamble much?”
I considered making a joke about playing the slots but resisted the urge. “Not when a woman’s heart is on the line.”
“You think you can win my heart?”
Something stirred in me as I blinked at the screen. How was I supposed to answer that? Was that what she wanted? I took a deep breath. “No.” My chest tightened as soon as I hit send, and I knew I couldn’t leave that thousand-pound response hanging between us without an explanation. “I don’t believe hearts can be won.” It was a fun idea perpetuated by fairytales, but winning was so final, whereas someone’s affection was… “I think hearts are earned.” Again and again and again. Perhaps there was a time I felt differently but, in my experience, thinking you’d won someone’s heart only led to complacency. I stared at my phone, part of me wishing I’d kept it light, but all the other responses I could’ve given seemed cheap and insincere.
“Interesting.”
I shook my head towards the ceiling and took a deep breath.
“And how exactly do you earn a heart?”
I’d never felt so torn. On the one hand, I wanted to say what she wanted to hear. But more than that, I wanted to be honest with her, wanted her to know me. “By playing your cards right,” I said. “Over and over again.”
She answered with a blushing smiley-face emoji.
I set the phone down and taped Elaine’s box back up, but you could tell it had been tampered with. Oh well. At least I hadn’t sampled the lube. Then I’d have an even bigger mess on my hands.
Speaking of avoiding messes, I hoped being so honest with Avery wasn’t a mistake. I doubted she’d go to the tabloids, but there was always a risk, and making headlines was such a headache. One teeny crumb about my personal life seemed to be all the paps needed to publish pathetic stories about how jealous I was of my dad’s success and how determined I was to break out from under his shadow. But nothing could be further from the truth.
Granted, I got into the industry because of him, but that’s because his cooking spoiled me rotten, and I knew by the time I was sixteen that I never wanted to have another bad meal. Ironically, I’d had many as a result of my career path, but I was batting above average with the added benefit of getting to try lots of new places.
But if I’d learned anything since meeting Avery, it was that new places were far more exciting and inviting when you had someone to share them with. So I was determined to show her an incredible night.
Because something told me she was worth risking my bachelorhood for.
And even though she was too good for a scoundrel like me, she made me want to be a gentleman, and I was grateful for the chance.