T W E N T Y N I N E
T W E N T YN I N E
- Avery -
M y mind was a mess of ugly questions and my body was… still squeezed in the stupid negligee that was supposed to be a nice surprise. For him . He was supposed to be surprised tonight. Not me. Not like this.
Which Oliver was even real? The one who gave me a leash? Or the one who laughed at my jokes and licked my…
It didn’t matter. I could never see him again.
If I had to have that stupid leash cast in bronze as a reminder, so be it.
It was remarkable really. I didn’t think there were any ways left that a man could make a fool out of me, and yet here I was. Dressed like a doll who was shocked she was being played with.
I thought of him next door, eating those cupcakes earlier today. He must’ve thought he was so clever. My stomach growled as I slunk towards the couch. Damn it. I’d really been looking forward to the spicy sweet potato fries at that steakhouse.
I snatched the cupcake he’d refused and took a big bite of it. Despite the fact that they really were one of my tastiest concoctions yet, there was nothing joyful about spitefully eating a cupcake meant for someone else. Even if that someone else was a jerk who’d betrayed you. How could he be my neighbor? What the actual?
I scoured the table in front of me to see if he’d scribbled anything with my generous selection of gel pens while he was out here. All I needed was a few letters to latch on to so I could compare them to the notes from the asshole next door, and… what? Confirm what he already told me? That he really was too good to be true? No. I was not the psycho here. Besides, he’d left no trace of his presence.
Except for the bad taste in my mouth.
I collapsed back on the couch with a groan. It was so unsatisfying to slam the door in someone’s face knowing they were only five meters from home with your cupcakes waiting on the counter to greet them. Ugh.
What was that bullshit I’d said to Kayleigh when I was up on my high horse thinking I’d finally nabbed one of the last decent bachelors and earned the right to give other women advice? Ah yes. “The truth will set you free.” What a load of crap. Turns out the truth only sets you free if you tell it the right way. And at the right time.
Whatever. Surely, she knew better than to take advice from me. I just hoped she knew better than to mention Oliver’s name again because I dreaded how discussing this disaster would go.
“How’d your date with Oliver go?” she’d ask.
“Fine until I found out he was a lying sneak.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he used to have a stalker, but now he is one.” I shook my head. Boy did I know how to pick ’em.
To make matters worse, I didn’t deserve any sympathy. It was public knowledge that the guy gave donkeys a bad name. There was mounds of evidence! Hundreds of hours of TV footage. Thousands of scathing tweets. Countless cruel articles. He was literally known for leaving wreckage in his wake.
And I willingly ignored all of it.
Because apparently I had learned nothing since I was a teenager. Oliver Harrington was just another bad boy I fell for because the scraps he threw me made me feel special.
The thought of going to the press with his sexy texts crossed my mind, but I’d never betray his trust like that. Then again, did he ever really trust me? If he did, why wouldn’t he tell me he was my next-door neighbor?
Okay, so I get that he might’ve been embarrassed about the whole situation. Lord knows I was. That first note I sent him should’ve been signed PMS instead of Number Seven. In hindsight, I could clearly see that, but… embarrassment was no excuse. We’d slept together, for crying out loud.
Which I had. Quite enthusiastically. Frankly, I would’ve cried even louder if I’d known it was going to be the last ti—
A knock at the door interrupted my stewing.
I sat up like a shot. Had he been there the whole time? Did he think I was going to let him back in?
Another knock.
“Go AWAY.”
Silence.
Why do I not hear footsteps?
“I’m falling in love with you, Avery.”
“Don’t you dare spout nonsense right now.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Get off my stoop!” It wasn’t really a stoop, but I was too stressed to worry about semantics.
“After seeing you in that negligee. You’ll need wild horses at the very least.”
I almost smiled.
“This isn’t over.”
“Wrong!” My tone rang out more juvenile than I intended. “It is very much over.”
“We can’t be strangers.”
I set my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands. If he’d known what I had planned for him, he definitely would’ve scarfed that cupcake and kept his mouth shut. But now, because of our mutually terrible judgment, I was busy choking on his bullshit instead of on his—
“We already aren’t.”
I stared at the peephole from across the room, realizing my adrenaline had turned to exhaustion. I’d been planning this seduction for days, and for what? For a man who obviously saw me as a mouse he could dangle over his smacking lips for sport. Thank God I found out who he really was before things went any further.
“You started all this with your hostile welcome note.”
My body boiled. “Don’t you dare put this on me.” I marched to the door and threw it open, wishing I hadn’t as soon as I saw him. “You were deliberately deceptive, slept with me, and stayed quiet about where you lived because—”
“Because you didn’t want that guy.”
I stared at him through wide eyes. “You’re the same guy!”
“It’s not that simple.”
I clenched my jaw. “If you can’t see how deep in the doghouse you are right now—”
He splayed a hand across the door. “There’s nothing wrong with my vision.”
“How about your feet?”
He furrowed his brow and glanced down.
I grabbed the leash off my shoe rack and threw it at his feet. “Take a walk.”
“It’s like that?” he asked, his dark eyes searching mine.
I closed the door in his face again, and it felt even worse than the first time.
Still, his footsteps didn’t start down the hall.
I dropped my forehead against the door, wishing I could go back in time. Or forward. I wasn’t picky. Anywhere but here would do.
“Don’t forget,” Oliver said a moment later. “I know your secret… Elaine.”
I scoffed. “Good thing secrets are safe with you!”
He didn’t answer.
I squeezed my fists and eyes shut. Who would’ve guessed the only thing more infuriating than fighting with him through the door was him not fighting back?
“You’ve got me there,” he said finally.
I inched to the right and looked through the peephole, surprised to see him staring back at me. But he wasn’t actually looking at me. Just at the door. Looking genuinely forlorn.
“I should’ve been clearer,” he said. “That first night. When I let you think I lived on the sixth floor somewhere else. That was the moment I should’ve set the record straight.”
“Go home, Sherlock.”
“Funny you mention that.”
“Why? You thinking of starting another case just so you can crack it?”
He sighed and his gaze strayed down the hall. “No. Because I’m going to solve this.”
“There’s nothing to solve.”
He looked back at the peephole. “I was looking forward to tonight.”
So was I. I chewed my lip, marveling at how na?ve I’d been. How lucky that my situation with the neighbor improved the day after I slept with him? What a happy coincidence!
“I fixed the sticky door before we slept together.”
My lips fell apart.
“For what it’s worth.”
For what it’s worth? What could it possibly be worth? DIY skills don’t make dating the devil a good idea.
“I just don’t want you to think I’m a complete asshole.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Just 98%.”
Thanks for the useless info. I’ll be sure to spend it wisely.
“The other 2% of me is solid.”
I swallowed the sadness that threatened to close my throat. “I need more than two percent.”
He nodded. “You deserve it, too.” He patted the door like he always patted our cabs when we got out. Like it had been fun taking my apartment for a spin, but it was time to say goodnight.
As much as the scorned woman in me wanted to threaten him with my daddy’s shotgun, my softer side longed to give him one last hug, just to feel his body flush with mine again. We fit together so well. It was such a shame he ended up being everything I needed him to not be.
“Taking you out is the most fun I’ve ever had.”
I felt the weight of his words on my bottom lip.
“So if you miss me—”
“I know where you’ll be,” I snapped, frustrated that he was still there, draining me in all the ways that didn’t feel good.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is…”
I pressed my lips together and rose up on my tippy toes.
“I’d rather be on your arm than on your shitlist.”
My breath left my chest when he walked away, and the slow seconds that passed between his departure and the door down the hall swinging shut were some of the longest I’d ever experienced.
But it was a fitting end.
After all, the sound of closing doors had become the soundtrack to my love life.