Neighbor Dearest(11)
“I don’t know. I don’t want to even think about it.” The shock must have worn off a bit, because the first teardrop fell from my eyes.
Damien let out a deep breath when he noticed me crying. “Fuck. Don’t cry.”
“I’m really sorry about this.”
Damien left the bathroom and began going around and opening all of the windows. Still dressed in only a towel, I followed him around like an idiot.
“The apartment needs to air out. It’s not good to breathe this shit in,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Do you eat pizza?” he asked.
That was a random question. He was so unpredictable.
“Yes.”
“Get dressed then come next door. Give the smoke a chance to dissipate.”
Damien grabbed the extinguisher and left the apartment just as fast as he’d barreled through it.
Did he just invite me over for dinner after I almost burned his building down?
Coughing, I ran to my room and changed, choosing a tiny black sundress. I felt stupid for even attempting to get dolled up when Damien was just offering me shelter and food after my near-disaster. But for some reason, I wanted to look good.
Could this night have been any stranger?
My palms were sweaty as I stood outside his door.
Get it together, Chelsea.
Knocking lightly, I took a deep breath in.
The door opened sooner than I was ready for.
“Well, if it isn’t Firestarter,” he drawled. “Come on in.”
“Firestarter and The Omen…between the two of us, we make a couple of terrifying old movies. Did you invite me over here to mock me, by the way?”
Damien lifted his brow. “Did you expect anything less? Yet…you still came.”
He’d changed into a fitted gray sweater and dark jeans and smelled like he’d just sprayed on a fresh coating of cologne.
“You changed,” I stupidly said.
“Well, I smelled like a chimney. So, I kind of had to.”
“Right.”
He wasn’t wearing the beanie anymore, and for the first time, I noticed that his dark hair had a slight curl to it. He also had some sort of white powder on his cheek.
“What is that all over your face?”
Wiping his cheek, he said, “It’s flour.”
“I thought you were ordering pizza.” I looked over at his kitchen counter and saw some chopped up vegetables and jarred sauce. “Wait…you’re…making it?”
“Yeah. Homemade is better and healthier. I use whole grain dough and low fat cheese.”
“So, are you like a health nut or something? You do work out a lot. I know that much.”
“I try to take good care of myself, yes.”
“Me, too. I try. I don’t always succeed, but I try.”
“Right. Frozen lasagna and all.” He winked. “I’d say that was an epic fail all around.”
“I’d probably have to agree with you.”
We smiled at each other. I was relieved that he was making light of everything. When his eyes lingered on mine for a few moments, I felt flush. It actually became uncomfortable because I worried that my attraction to him was somehow transparent.
Needing to distract myself from his gaze, I looked around and said, “It’s so quiet here without the dogs.”
“I know. I don’t like it.” Damien walked to the other side of the counter and began pouring sauce over the rolled-out dough.
“You miss them when they’re gone at night?” I asked, taking a seat on one of the stools.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve seen her dropping them off. What’s her name?”
He hesitated then said, “Jenna.”
“Hmm.”
He stopped what he was doing for a moment. “What, Chelsea?”
“What do you mean?”
“You look like you want to ask me something else.”
“Nothing…it’s just…what happened between the two of you?”
“For the record, she isn’t my stepsister.”
Jerk.
“Well, thank God for that.”
“She’s my cousin.” He laughed.
I reached over, took a little of his flour and flicked it at him. “Clearly, you don’t know how to be serious.”
“I was being serious when I told you how much I miss my dogs when they’re not around.”
“You know what? It’s none of my business.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Did you break up with her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She wanted things I couldn’t give her.”
“Like what?”
“She wanted to get married and have kids.”
“You don’t want those things?” When he didn’t answer, I asked, “Or you didn’t want them with her?”