T H I R T Y T W O
T H I R T YT W O
- Oliver -
S he finally answered one of my texts. With a turd emoji.
At least she let me know she was alive, which was all I’d asked. But when you send a message that implies thinking of you and it makes the other person think of poo, it doesn’t inspire much confidence.
But I couldn’t give her any more space. I wasn’t a fucking astronaut. And while the only pie I deserved was humble, I didn’t want to develop a taste for it.
She saw me loitering on the sidewalk as soon as she stepped out of our building but walked past, her pretty lips in a firm pout.
I caught up and fell into step beside her.
“You can’t keep doing this,” she said.
It was the first time she’d spoken all week. “I just want you to take back calling me a stalker.”
“That’s rich,” she said. “Considering you’re stalking me right now. Plus, it’s you who owes me an apology.”
“I’m only stalking you now to demonstrate that I know the difference.”
She started digging through her purse and pulled out her earbuds case.
“And I’d rather look at it in a different way.”
“What way is that?” She raised a palm towards a taxi driver who stopped to let us cross.
“Like I’m walking the woman I care about to work.”
“Have you hidden cameras in my apartment yet?” she asked, picking up her pace.
“Why would I do that?” I said, tapping my temple. “I have all the footage I need right here.”
She shot a disapproving look over shoulder. “Charming.”
My mind flashed back to the last time she’d looked over her shoulder at me. She’d been riding me in reverse cowgirl, her dark red tresses trailing down her back as I held her waist and let her set the pace. At one point, she fell forward and slowed down, and I stared at her smooth curves as she sank down my cock one inch at a time. I got goosebumps thinking about it.
“I’m going to get a restraining order if you keep following me to work.”
“No, you’re not,” I said, breathing in the fresh morning air. “And I don’t think that’s funny to joke about.”
“Did your stalker follow you to work?” she asked, not looking at me.
“She followed me everywhere,” I admitted. “Work. Restaurants. Gas stations.”
Her nose crinkled. “Gas stations?”
“It was pretty unsettling.”
“I can imagine,” she said, dropping her eyes to my feet. “You really can’t keep following me to work like this, though.”
“First of all, don’t flatter yourself. I’m simply also on my way to the bakery.”
She scoffed but dropped her earbuds back in her purse.
“Second of all, following you around isn’t my goal.”
She raised an eyebrow in my direction.
“I want to go out with you again.”
She shook her head at the sidewalk a few feet ahead of us, like it was a sad suggestion.
“Just once.”
She glanced at me. “Once?”
I nodded. “Yeah. So I can explain.”
She sighed. “And if I agree, then what? You’ll go back to pretending you don’t live next door?”
“Is that what you want?”
She slowed to a stop a few doors down from the café to avoid putting on a show. “How am I supposed to believe anything you say?”
I shrugged. “You look at my stats and decide I deserve another at bat.”
She crossed her arms.
“I know I struck out a few times, Avery, but you have to admit there were a few home runs in there.”
“Stop walking me to work.”
“Eat food with me once,” I said. “For old times’ sake.”
She checked her watch and looked towards the café. “You made a fool out of me, Oliver.”
“That’s not true.”
She opened her mouth to object—
“I made a fool out of myself.”
She seemed satisfied with my admission and narrowed her eyes.
“You didn’t do anything foolish,” I said, “Until you found out I lived next door and immediately put an end to the fun we were having.”
Her eyes popped wide. “Don’t you dare put this on me!”
“The blame for this is the last thing I want to put on you.”
She searched my eyes until she sensed my meaning and blushed before taking a step back. “Don’t stalk me anymore or I’ll… be mad.”
I watched her spin on her heels and march to the café, wondering what I was supposed to make of her pathetic threat. “Mad” wasn’t a very descriptive word, after all. What if she was being sarcastic and trying to use reverse psychology?
By the time I reached the café, she’d already disappeared into the kitchen. The only people in the dining area were some female members of the muted sweater club, who were clustered around croissants and cappuccinos in the corner, and Grace, who was tending the register.
“Morning, Grace,” I said, glancing up at the colorful chalkboard.
“Morning,” she said politely, though I couldn’t help but notice she’d stopped calling me by name. “What can I get you?”
“The chalkboard looks great,” I said, admiring the curly script and carefully drawn cupcakes. “Do you do that yourself?”
“No. My lovely assistant does it.”
“Well, she’s done a fantastic job.”
“I’ll be sure to pass on your compliment.”
Damn. So she was really going to hide in the kitchen.
“What can I get you today?”
“I’ll have an ice coffee to match my cold, neglected heart.”
She almost smiled.
“And…” I leaned back and scanned the lit-up dessert case from top to bottom. “Can you do a medley of croissants for me?”
“Sure,” she said. “How many would you like?”
“Two dozen.”
“What do you need two dozen croissants for?” Avery asked, appearing in the doorway donning a frilly half apron that made my imagination run wild.
“Stalking burns a lot of calories.”
She clenched her jaw and went to make my coffee.
I could tell by her brewing stance that she was boiling.
“Cash or—”
I handed Grace my card.
“Do you realize that if we knocked down the north wall, we could turn it into a huge bathroom with a jacuzzi tub and a steam shower?”
She didn’t turn around.
Grace handed my card back and started assembling a thin cardboard box. “Looks like I’m going to have to call for backup.”
One of Grace’s eyebrows quirked, but Avery dug in the ice tray and continued to feign disinterest.
“Excuse me, ladies.” I took a few steps towards the corner. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
Eight sets of eyes looked up at me. Sixteen if you counted the specs.
“I’m crazy about this woman.” I gestured towards Avery.
She looked towards the women, who watched the color drain from her face.
“And I made a mistake—”
“Whadya do?” one of them blurted.
Oh shit. They’d gone rogue. “I lied to her about where I lived.”
“Why would you go and do a thing like that?” the woman asked, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.
I looked at Avery, whose hands had found her hips.
She cocked her head like she thought it was a fair question.
“I didn’t want her to judge me.”
“That’s ridiculous,” one of the ladies said, lifting her cane four inches off the ground for emphasis. “Either she loves you for who you are, or she doesn’t, and either way, it doesn’t matter where you live.”
“I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that I messed up.”
They all nodded, like they found this easy to believe.
“And now she thinks you’re a liar,” the curly-haired member of the pack said. “Which means there’s almost nothing you can say to make it better.”
Maybe this was a bad idea.
“A jacuzzi sounds nice, though,” the one with blue hair said. “I’d forgive you for lying if you got me a jacuzzi tub.”
Better. “I tried to tell her that I’m sorry and want another chance, but she won’t listen to me.”
“What’s this got to do with us?” the one who hadn’t taken her coat off asked, eliciting nods from her companions.
“Well, I’m hoping she might listen to you.”
Blue Hair looked Avery up and down. “We’ll have to hear her side of the story first.”
“Ask her,” I said, strolling over to collect my pastries. “Make sure she doesn’t leave out a single detail.”
Yellow flames flickered in Avery’s eyes.
Grace tapped the top of my box on the counter. “Have a nice day,” she said definitively, her tone of voice suggesting it was time for me to say goodbye.
“One date,” I said to Avery, taking slow steps backwards. Then I turned to the women. “That’s all I’m asking for.” My eyes pleaded with them. “I want one more chance to give her multiple orgasms.”
Half the women’s mouths fell open.
“Well!” one of them cried, fanning herself. “If you won’t give him a chance, honey, I will!”
“Why do you look so familiar?” another asked, squinting at me. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
“I come here a lot,” I offered, feeling the weight of Avery’s gaze on me. “That must be it.”
I glanced back at Avery’s disbelieving expression one last time before disappearing out of sight, hoping I’d made enough of a scene to earn a second chance. But only time would tell.
Fortunately, I couldn’t spend the day dwelling on whether I’d done enough.
I flagged down a cab and turned my attention to my upcoming meeting with the producers Mac had opened negotiations with. Fingers crossed they’d be a lot easier to win over.