Chapter Fourteen #2
“But you’re doing it,” Dom points out. “Taking action instead of just talking about it. That’s more than most people ever do with their ideas.”
We reach my door, and I turn to face him, Cocoa settling at my feet. “Thanks,” I say, surprised by how much his support means to me.
There’s a moment, standing there in the hallway, where the air between us feels charged with possibility. My eyes meet his, and for a second, I think—or maybe hope—that he might lean in and close the distance between us.
Instead, he takes a small step back, clearing his throat. “So, same time tomorrow for training? If you want, I mean.”
“Yes,” I say, perhaps too quickly. “Cocoa definitely needs practice. We both do.”
Dom smiles, that gentle curve of his lips that seems reserved just for me. “Great. I’ll see you then. Goodnight, Nicole.”
“Goodnight, Dom.”
“So,” Nora says, narrowing her eyes over the FaceTime video. “You had your dog training sesh with your friend. I’m dying to know how it went. I literally stayed up for this.”
I glance at the clock, feeling bad that it’s nearly midnight in New York. “I mean, it was good. Really good, actually.” I lean back into the couch, snuggling under my dog paw throw blanket.
She leans in, her face filling the screen. “Details, Nic. You are seriously driving me crazy right now.”
“Okay, okay.” I hold up a hand in mock surrender. “He brought a clicker and treats, and we basically had the best date ever in the courtyard, except it wasn’t a date—and I don’t think he even likes me like that.”
Nora gives me a funny look, her head tilting in a way that causes the bun on her head to go lopsided. “So, you like him?”
“I mean…” My voice trails off for a second as I check on Cocoa, who’s snoozing in his bed. “I think he’s just nice to me because I’m his neighbor and my dog is a terror… Also, he’s way too attractive to be real. It makes no sense for him to even like me.”
Nora bursts into laughter. “Nicole, you’re gorgeous. Awkward, sure. But I think your hot neighbor might be the same kind of weird as you.”
I purse my lips together. “But like … if he liked me, wouldn’t he just ask me on a date or something? Isn’t that how it works?”
My sister goes silent for a second and then smirks. “Sometimes I forget how precious you are.”
I roll my eyes, letting out a groan. “Ugh, more like pathetic.”
“No, you’re cute. Tell me how the training thing went.”
“Oh, it was horrific.” I shift on the couch, unable to stop myself from laughing. “Cocoa went feral and took a swim in the fountain, and then I spilled the treat bag, which he promptly scarfed down like he hadn’t eaten in years.”
Nora makes a noise, somewhere between a giggle and a squeal. “Ohhhh no.”
“Yeah. Dom was teaching me how to use a clicker and positive reinforcement,” I continue. “But I kept hitting it too late. But he was so patient and … it was nice. It was so nice, Nora.” I sink a little deeper into the couch. “He never made me feel stupid. Even when Cocoa was being … Cocoa.”
Nora cocks her head. “And you’re positive he’s not into you? Because girl, it sounds like he’s into you.”
My face flames. “No, no! He’s just nice. And southern, so maybe it’s a hospitality thing?”
“Mmhm.” Nora stirs her coffee, giving me the full judgy-sister side-eye. “I’m betting on wedding bells.”
“Oh, stop,” I groan, wishing I could throw a pillow at her. “I’m way too focused on figuring my career out.”
“Yeah…” Nora’s smile fades, and I can already tell she’s trying not to show a reaction.
Ugh.
“I think I have a really good idea.” I bite my lip, debating how much to share. “I printed out a whole proposal. I even did a spreadsheet and everything. I think it’s a good idea. Dom even thinks so.”
“You did a spreadsheet?” Nora lets out a low whistle. “Nic, spreadsheets are the gateway drug to adulthood. That’s serious. Lay it on me.”
My heart thumps as nervous laughter slips from my lips. “I want to build luxury apartments for athletes. Intentionally designed for the way they live. Not just souped-up dorms, but real homes. With community and wellness and soundproof walls so nobody can report your karaoke to the HOA.”
My sister grins, a real and proud one, that softens her whole face. “That’s … actually brilliant. Even Mom and Dad would have to admit that’s a business move.”
“It’s early,” I say, brushing off her praise. “But it feels kind of like the right thing.”
“Are you going to ask Dad to look at it?”
I sigh, slowly letting the air out. “I don’t know. I want to, but I also want to prove I can do something without him. I’m tired of letting him down.”
“Well, you know—”—she wiggles her eyebrows—“it’s integral to your new friend, too.”
“Oh my gosh, stop.” I burst into full laughter, my head falling back on the couch. “He probably wouldn’t even sign up.”
“I bet he would.” Nora flashes her signature smirk, eyebrows lifted. “Keep me posted on the hot neighbor. I expect hourly updates. And if you ever get married, I want credit for the prediction.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling when she hangs up and the screen goes dark.
Cocoa whimpers as he stretches from his bed.
“I guess it’s time to call it a night,” I say, standing up and stretching my arms over my head. “We have a training session coming up tomorrow.”
He snorts and then hops up to follow me into the bedroom.
I move quickly through my nighttime routine and then climb into the queen-sized bed with a bright pink duvet. I lean back on the pillow, Cocoa hopping up to lie beside me, and then I reach for my phone.
Just a quick scroll and I’ll go to bed.
I can already tell my brain is wired from the sisterly pep talk, and now the whole apartment feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting to see if I can stick to my own hype.
Nora thinks it’s a good idea. And that means something. It means I might actually stand a shot this time.
I smile to myself as I’m halfway through a meme account’s daily dump, when I see it…
A stock photo of a hot guy standing at a grill, drink in hand, his jawline visible from space. The meme reads: When your neighbor is a total snack and all you have is a microwave.
My mouth drops open, and I don’t just snort. I lose it. I physically have to cover my mouth to keep from waking the dog.
Because it’s so relatable. I have a microwave. And my neighbor is … well, Dom.
I screenshot the meme, then instantly think of sending it to Nora. She’d appreciate the subtlety. I click share, and my messaging app pops up.
I tap. The screen blurs. Sent appears in blue, and for a split second, I have no idea what I’ve just done.
But then… Then I see it.
The little circle with Dom’s profile pic sits there, smug. A single line underneath, the meme in its full, unfiltered glory.
Oh no… No, no, no. You have to be kidding me.
My entire body goes cold, then hot, then back to cold so fast it’s like my nervous system short-circuited.
I slap a hand over my mouth and let out a sound I’ve never heard myself make before, a kind of whimper mixed with a laugh.
I fumble the phone and it slips off my leg and clatters to the floor. Cocoa’s head instantly pops up.
“No, no,” I whisper, diving for the device. I jab at the screen, desperate to see if there’s an unsend option.
There isn’t, of course.
And it’s delivered.
Cocoa watches me, completely invested. I feel like he’s judging my digital skills, and frankly, I deserve it.
I pace the apartment, phone in both hands, muttering, “Maybe he won’t see it. Maybe he has notifications off. Maybe he’ll think it’s a mass meme.”
I check the screen. A full-body cringe sets in. I’m half a breath away from launching my phone into the nearest garbage disposal when I remember that it’s my only lifeline to the outside world.
And also, Nora would never let me live it down.
I flop back onto the couch, clutching the phone to my chest. “What do I even do?” I ask Cocoa. He blinks at me, then burrows back into the pillow, unhelpful as ever.
I could have seconds to prepare for whatever happens next.
Should I own it? Should I pretend I sent it to the wrong person? Should I move, change my name, and start a new life in a city where the only hot neighbors are cacti?
I stare at the screen, sweat prickling down my back, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But as my eyes burn into the screen, it doesn’t.
He’s probably sleeping.
I seriously consider getting up, breaking into his apartment, stealing his phone, and deleting it. But knowing me, I’d get caught, and that would be such an embarrassing phone call to Nora.
I sit on my hands, forcing myself not to check my notifications for a full thirty seconds. When that’s done, I peek, just to see that it still hasn’t been read.
I splay out on the bed and groan as Cocoa snuggles up next to me. “We are never showing our faces in public again.”
For the next several minutes, I rehearse every possible response in my head. I consider pretending I was hacked, or that it was a dare, or that I’m performing psychological research on memes relating to modern masculinity, and he just happened to be a subject.
Or … I could just go with the truth.