T W E N T Y F O U R
T W E N T YF O U R
- Oliver -
I was wondering the best way to tell her I lived in her building when she asked if I’d come up for a drink and waggled her eyebrows at me.
“If you insist,” I said, reaching for my wallet.
“I got it,” she said, handing some money to the taxi driver.
I scolded her with my eyes.
“Oh relax,” she said, shooing me out the car. “You got dinner.”
“Next ride’s on me.”
She shot me a smile so sassy I felt it in my knees as I stepped onto the curb.
“Home sweet home,” she said, swinging the door shut.
I tapped the top of the cab before letting my eyes drift up the apartment building before us. My apartment building. Just say you live here , I thought. “What floor do you live on?”
“Six,” she said.
My stomach twisted.
“Why?”
“I live on the sixth floor, too.”
“What are the chances?” she asked, pulling the door open and leading the way inside.
I was about to elaborate when she continued.
“Hope you’ve had better luck with your neighbors than I’ve had.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, wondering if she knew Elaine. Maybe she could return the package? Scratch that. Probably best to avoid telling that story.
“I mean, if you feel like smashing any plates or screaming my name through the walls tonight, you only get extra points for annoying the guy next door.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, the elevator rising with my mounting nerves.
“He’s the worst neighbor I’ve ever had, and I’ve never even met him.”
“Wow.” I leaned back and fought the urge to fidget. “What did he do that was so awful?”
“I don’t even want to talk about it,” she said, getting off the elevator. On my floor. Was this made bed already ripe for lying in or what? How could I possibly tell her now? It would definitely ruin the evening, especially after what she just said. But if I kept quiet a while longer, we could both carry on enjoying the night and—
Avery stopped in front of Elaine’s door and pulled out a key.
Shit. “This your place?” I asked, the stupid question stinging my ears.
“Yep. All three rooms,” she said, pushing the door open. “And that’s where the grump who makes me want to buy stock in voodoo dolls lives.”
“You want me to have a word with him?” I don’t know what came over me. It just seemed like the right thing to say. But she wasn’t even in on the joke. And what if she said yes?! My mind raced, but relaxed when I realized how easy it would be to walk four yards to my door, act surprised “he” wasn’t home, and then talk some more smack… before moving out in the middle of the night to avoid any more awkwardness.
“Absolutely not.”
My chest loosened.
“You coming?” she asked.
“All three rooms, you say?” I followed her inside. “I need to see this for myself.” It was a strange sensation, being behind enemy lines. “How did you get the name Avery?” I asked. Or should I say, Elaine .
The first thing that struck me about her place was how colorful it was. From the painted coffee table to the pillows on the couch to the… dog leash draped over the skinny shoe rack by the door. I swallowed. It felt like a different building. Her living room was half the size of mine and included her open kitchen, but she’d made the most of the space using strategic furniture. A hollow ottoman. A mirrored dresser. Those hanging air plants that don’t need water or floorspace.
“My mom liked it,” she said, heading towards the kitchen. “And my dad said she could name me anything she liked except for Horace.”
I laughed and closed the door before leaning towards the high table in the entryway to steal a glance at her stacked mail. God forgive me. One slip into postal deviance and now I was in free fall, but I had to be sure her name was Avery. Which it was. At least her electric company thought so.
I hated myself for even looking. For being such a lousy neighbor. All I wanted was for things to feel simple with this woman. Should I make an excuse and leave? Tell the truth? Stay incognito and have a drink with the enemy? Interesting. When I put it like that, there was only one reasonable choice to make. “Thanks,” I said as Avery handed me a glass of red wine.
“Hope you like cheap pinot.”
My lips pulled towards a smile.
“It pairs well with my tattoos.”
I raised my brows.
“Though for the record, I firmly believe no one should be judged for decisions they made as a teenager.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said, clinking my glass against hers.
“Do you have any?” she asked, her eyes dripping down my body and dancing back up.
I let her question hang in the air as I took a sip of wine. “No,” I said finally. “Not a fan of needles.”
“I see.” She walked over to the beige couch and rearranged a few of the soft teal and orange pillows.
I followed her over and took a seat beside her. “So what’s the first one you ever got?”
Her coasters were shaped like tiny vinyl records, and I imagined she’d like my collection. Hell, I could show it to her if she knew I lived next door, but the Elaine thing was still niggling at me. Was her secret pseudonym just for buying lube, or was there something more sinister at play?
She extended the inside of her wrist towards me and pulled her mess of silver bracelets away, revealing the tiny silhouette of a bird.
“A swift?”
She nodded. “They spend most of their lives flying. They even sleep on the wing.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“Not for swifts,” she said. "They find it harder to sit still.”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“It’s like they know their restlessness is a strength, rather than a weakness.”
“Interesting.”
“Did you know a flock of swifts is called a ‘scream’?”
“I didn’t,” I said. “So is that why you got it? You like the bird?”
“Yeah. That, and I thought it would piss my mom off.”
“The ironclad logic of a teenager.”
She looked down at the little bird and sighed. “I was so wise then.”
“Wise?”
“Ignorant,” she corrected. “But it felt like wisdom.”
“I knew everything when I was 19,” I confessed. “But it didn’t last, unfortunately.”
“No matter,” she said, her sparkling eyes searching mine. “Knowing it all is overrated. Better to know what’s important.”
I held her gaze. “Now that’s real wisdom.”
She blushed.
I lifted my chin. “What’d you get next?”
She pointed towards one of her ribs. “A juicy peach.”
“Because?”
She shrugged. “I find peaches aspirational.”
Aspirational? “How so?”
“I like that they’re soft and sweet on the outside but strong in the middle.”
“Like you?”
She smiled. “On my good days.”
“Your juicy peach sounds nice.”
“There’s one more you haven’t seen.” She reached around to her lower back.
I raised a brow.
“It’s the only one I regret.”
“I’ve seen it.” Was that so hard? Doesn’t it feel good to tell the truth?
Confusion twisted her expression. “What?”
“The first time I came into the café,” I explained. “You were bending over behind the counter, and I caught a glimpse.”
She feigned a scowl. “Cheeky.”
“Like I said, I’ve wanted to sleep with you since I first laid eyes on you.”
“Then what?” she asked, reaching towards the coffee table for her wine glass.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, after you sleep with me, is the jig up?”
“What jig?”
“The chase.”
“Ahhh.” I relaxed back on the couch and dropped my eyes towards her hips. “Why the vine?”
“Because the artist couldn’t draw a pretty fern, which is what I really wanted.”
“Why a fern?”
“For protection and everlasting youth obviously.”
I laughed. “I take it back. I didn’t get a good enough look at it.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Show it to me.”
She stared at me for a moment and swallowed when she realized I was serious. Then she stood up.
My jaw clenched with anticipation as she spun around slowly, her fingertips stretching towards the bottom of her short dress. And just when I thought she might change her mind, she peeled her dress up like a second skin, her beautiful ass blooming before me.
“Exquisite,” I said, admiring the way the delicate vine seemed to climb between her sexy back dimples.
She looked over her shoulder. “And the peach,” she said, spinning around to face me as she hoisted her dress a little higher up her hourglass body.
I was stunned by her beauty, by the unapologetic way she owned it and shared it with me. “You only get more beautiful,” I said, scooting to the edge of the couch and reaching for her. Her waist was warm under my palms, and I let her feel the weight of my hands on her hips as I dragged a thumb across her fuzzy peach, eliciting a little giggle that revealed she was probably more sensitive than she let on. “I had a dream like this once.”
She bit back a smile. “Are you saying I’m your dream girl?”
“I know you are,” I said, smoothing my hands over her hips as my mouth watered.
“You never answered the question,” she said, letting me pull her into my lap, my dick swelling between us as she straddled me.
“What question?”
“What happens when the chase is over?”
I scoffed. “That’s the kind of question you ask a boy,” I said, pulling her dress off over her head.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not chasing you just to chase you.” I lifted my gaze to hers and slid the straps of her black bra off her shoulders like I was slipping a delicate ribbon off a fancy package. “Nor am I chasing you just to catch you.”
“Then why, pray tell, are you chasing me?” she asked, exhaling softly as I freed her breasts and took them in my hands.
“Because I want to keep you.”
She looked down at me, her fiery hair framing her face as her shallow breathing made her breasts swell against my palms.
Then I reached up and cradled the back of her head, inviting her to bend down and bring her lips to mine. And as her sweet tongue sent warm shivers through my body, I knew I wouldn’t rest until I’d tended to every inch of her tender, tattooed temple.