Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Joey
DFW @BodaciousBuckaroo211
Valentine’s Day is coming, and I hate how incredibly single it makes single people feel.
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JoeyB @JoeVSVolcano
And why, exactly, is that? It’s just another day of the week. Real love doesn’t need an occasion to be commemorated. It should be celebrated every single day. Valentine’s Day is just a marketing ploy set up by jewelers and greeting card companies.
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DFW @BodaciousBuckaroo211
Says someone who’s obviously never had a girlfriend.
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JoeyB @JoeVSVolcano
You’re right. I haven’t had a girlfriend. But that doesn’t change the facts.
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I blow out a cleansing breath as I close the Cackle app. I’ve had about all I can take of Buckaroo this morning. It’s no surprise he’s single. His negativity toward love and romance, in general, would chase away anyone who might want a relationship with him.
And what was that bit about me never having had a girlfriend? Was he probing to find out if I’m into girls, or something? Like he could use that as some kind of weapon to explain why I don’t like him ? As if I would ever like him.
Gag.
Twisting on the couch, I stretch out on my back and hold my phone above me. Tapping the icon for my contacts, I pull up Dallas’ number. My thumb twitches as I hesitate, and then I take a big breath and tap the icon to open a new text thread. Blowing out the breath, I swallow thickly and start to type.
Me: Hey, Dallas. It’s Joey .
Shaking my head, I delete the words and stare at the blinking cursor for a few beats before trying again.
Me: Hi. It’s Josette. Your neighbor. From across the hall.
“Jesus, Joey, how many Josettes do you think he knows?” I murmur as I delete that message, as well.
I start to type again, and a knock echoes through my otherwise silent apartment. Startled, I shriek and lose my grip on my phone. Gravity takes over, and I grunt as the device bounces off my cheekbone before tumbling to the floor.
“Ow. Shit,” I mumble, rubbing away the pain in my cheek.
There’s another knock on the door, and I freeze. Who could that be?
“Josette, you home? It’s Dallas.”
My eyes flare wide as his words trail off, and I leap to my feet. Turning left, then right in a panic, my mind screams at me to decide before I stop, take a deep breath, and pick my phone up from off the floor.
“Coming,” I call out loud enough for him to hear and use my free hand to smooth back my hair as I shuffle toward the door.
Taking a deep breath as I grab the lever for the deadbolt, I blow the air out in a slow stream while twisting the lever and grabbing the doorknob. Gritting my teeth, I swing the door open.
“Hi,” Dallas says with a smile that nearly knocks me off my feet. “Sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to borrow a cup of sugar.”
I blink up at him, shocked out of the stupefied trance his smile threw me into. A cup of sugar?
“Seriously?” pops out of my mouth, and he laughs.
“I know it sounds cliché, but I forgot to buy some at the store, and I’ve been seriously craving some sweet iced tea. It’s great fuel for unpacking, you know.”
I stare at him, my gaze falling back to his boyish smile, which I just noticed is end-capped by crater-deep dimples. Jesus, could he be any cuter? Like seriously. This man is perfection.
His smile drops as I just continue to stare at him in silence, and he backpedals, saying, “I’ll just pop out to the store. Sorry to bother you.”
“Wait!” I shout as he starts to turn, and he whips back around. My cheeks heat as I wave for him to come in. “Yes. Yes, I have sugar.”
He pauses for a moment, asking me without words if I’m sure it’s okay for him to come in. I jerk my head toward the interior of the apartment before turning to lead the way to the kitchen. My heart beats erratically until I hear the door click closed and his soft footfalls behind me. Don’t get me wrong. It’s still beating fast. Just not quite as irregular.
“Wow. Your apartment is the mirror image of mine,” Dallas says, and I look over my shoulder.
I meant to say something––perhaps something funny or brilliant––but the second my eyes meet his, my mind goes completely blank. I can’t remember what I was going to say. Not a word of it. So, I just laugh like he said something funny. I jerk my head forward and flinch, praying to all the gods in the heavens he hasn’t just decided I’m some kind of weirdo freak.
I head straight to the cabinet where I keep my sugar in a large plastic container so as not to attract ants. Using a two-cup measuring cup, I fill it halfway and put the large container back into the cupboard, all without looking at Dallas once. Taking a deep breath, I pick up the measuring cup and hold it out before finally lifting my chin to meet his gaze.
“Thank you,” he says as he takes it, donning another wide smile that showcases those impossible dimples.
God, how did I not notice how gorgeous he was the first time we met? I mean, I did notice, I guess. But in the week since, I’ve convinced myself I imagined the star-quality level of his attractiveness. I remembered accurately how tall he is––my neck is starting to cramp as I continue to stare.
And, oh God, I’m staring.
I look down quickly, and I swear, I hear him chuckle under his breath. But no fucking way am I chancing another peek at his face to confirm. Those dimples should be registered as a deadly weapon.
The only problem is that, now, I’m staring at his muscled chest beneath a slim-fitting t-shirt. He’s not overly huge like he pumps iron at a gym seven days a week. The muscles look natural on him like he labors for a living. My mind conjures up an image of him, that tight shirt soaked in sweat as he…I don’t know…carries kegs of beer, or something.
“Have you called the super about that?” he asks, jerking me out of my blue collar fantasy while my face heats with embarrassment.
I look up at his face, and he tilts his head toward the row of cabinets on the wall behind me. I follow his line of sight. My forehead wrinkles at the once-solid structure that now gapes away from the wall slightly. It’s not so bad. I can still store stuff in them. Lightweight stuff that won’t put too much stress on it, anyway.
Looking back at Dallas, I clench my back teeth together before forcing them to relax as I say, “No. I don’t want to bother him with something so minor.”
My teeth grind together once more as I wait for his response. That’s his job, Josette. That’s what he gets paid for. This is his responsibility. It’s part of your rent.
I could go on as I’ve heard them all before. From my sister, Callie. From Twila. Raven.
But as he watches me, Dallas’ face smooths out before he shrugs his shoulder lightly. “I can fix that for you.”
“Wh-what?” I stutter, my eyes widening.
“I’m a carpenter. I can fix it, no problem.”
I guess I now know how he came by all those muscles.
“I can’t ask you to do that,” I say quickly.
“You didn’t ask. I offered. Please let me do this for you. Otherwise, I’ll be worrying constantly about those cabinets falling down and crushing you.”
One corner of his mouth quirks up as his eyes travel down the length of me and back up again. I fight my own smile as I arch a brow at him, silently daring him to comment on my short stature. Hell, compared to his own behemoth size, I probably look like a toddler to him.
“We can call it payback for the sugar, if you want,” he says, and I shake my head.
“That hardly seems like a fair trade.”
“You don’t know how badly I’m craving sweet tea right now,” he says with a grin, then he dips his chin and adds, “Please, Josette. Let me do this for you.”
I find myself nodding, and those dimples make another appearance as he holds up the cup of sugar in thanks and spins around, leaving before I can rescind my permission.
“What just happened?” I whisper to myself as soon as the door gently closes behind him.
I feel like I got steamrolled by kindness. I look back at the sagging cabinets and sigh. Dallas insisted on fixing them. I didn’t ask, and in fact, declined his offer before he talked me into it. I’m not inconveniencing him or annoying him. This was his idea.
It’s fine. It’s going to be fine.
Blowing out a long sigh, I open the cabinet doors and begin pulling down all of the plastic plates, cups, and bowls I have stored in there. I do have real dishware, but the heavier items were relegated to a box in my closet when I noticed the cabinets pulling away from the wall. I guess it’ll be nice to eat off real plates and drink out of real glasses again.
When I finish piling everything on the small island, and the cabinet’s mostly empty, I look down at myself and realize how I’m dressed. My threadbare sweatpants have a bleach splotch on the right thigh, and my two-sizes-too-big t-shirt sports a picture of an angry-looking cat with the words “Fluff Around and Find Out.”
“Oh, my God,” I hiss as I run into my bedroom to find something to change into before Dallas returns.
Picking out a pair of jeans and a teal button-down blouse, I quickly text the girls before dropping my phone and changing while I wait for one of them to respond.
Me: My new neighbor popped by today to borrow a cup of sugar.
My text alert chimes before I can even step into my jeans, and I pick up the phone to see who replied.
Raven: Why does this sound like the beginning of a porno movie?
Me: Not helpful, R. He noticed the situation with my cabinets and insisted on coming back to fix it for me.
Callie: Thank God. I’ve been having nightmares about those shitty cabinets falling off the wall and crushing you.
Twila: I concur. Does he even know how to fix cabinets, though?
Raven: Hot handyman! This IS the beginning of a porn flick.
Me: I never said he was hot, did I? And T, apparently, he’s a professional.
Raven: A professional, huh? Has he won any AVN awards?
Callie: Leave her alone, Raven. And J, we know he’s hot because you told us. Twelve out of ten, remember?
Oh, yeah. I totally forgot about that conversation for a second. I get dressed in a flash and decide to leave my feet bare. I mean putting on shoes would be overkill, right? Taking my phone, I text them back as I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Me: What do I do when he comes back?
I set the phone down and brush my teeth a little too hard while watching the screen for a response. My eyes widen when I look in the mirror and see the rat’s nest my ponytail became while I was lying on the couch earlier.
Fuck. I’m surprised Dallas even wants to come back over after seeing me looking like that.
Spitting the toothpaste foam into the sink and rinsing my mouth, I pull the elastic from my hair and run a brush through the long tresses. It’s a bit frizzy after the brushing, so I pull it up into a bun on top of my head with a couple of loose tendrils near my temples.
My phone dings twice, and I look down at it.
Raven: Let him hammer you.
Raven: I meant your cabinets. Let him hammer your cabinets.
Oh, my God.
Picking the phone back up, my thumbs fly over the screen as I respond.
Me: Stop it. He’s just being friendly. Yeah. A friendly neighbor. That’s all.
Raven: If you say so.
Callie: Of course, he is. It’s really nice of him to do this for you. Make sure you thank him.
Raven: Yeah, Joey. THANK HIM. Thank him reeeaaal good .
Twila : Knock it off, R. Can’t you tell she’s nervous enough already? Joey, it’ll be fine. This is a really considerate thing he’s doing, and you just need to relax.
Raven: Yeah, sorry, Jo. I was only teasing you. Love you, girl.
I narrow my eyes at Raven’s last message. If I had to guess, my sister texted her on the side and ordered her to stop with all the sex jokes. Normally, I’d be fine with it, but here and now? When it’s about my hot new neighbor? I’m kind of a wreck.
A knock echoes through the apartment, and I freeze up. Only my thumbs move as I send another quick text.
Me: OMG. He’s here. What do I do?
Twila: Answer the door.
Me: Right.
Me: Gotta go. Text you later after he leaves.
Callie: You’ve got this, girl!
Raven: XOXO
I tuck my phone into my back pocket and head for the door while attempting to take long, calming breaths. Stopping just in front of the door, I exhale slowly before twisting the knob and pulling it open.
My throat closes up when I see Dallas on the other side, holding two glasses of iced tea while wearing a wide smile and a toolbelt.
Holy shit.
Is this actually a porno?
I feel hot all of a sudden, and Dallas’ smile starts to fade. I know I should move. Say something. Anything. But damn, why did he have to change into a tank top that revealed all those muscles?
“Hey,” he says softly, and my gaze snaps up to meet his.
Fuck. Did he see me checking out his biceps?
He clears his throat and asks, “Um, can I come in?”