dreams about my overly attractive and overly confident neighbor. And sure, said neighbor had heard these dreams and commented on them,
getting the last word in an already extremely bizarre evening.
But I could handle this. Of course I could. I’d just acknowledge it before he could—take the wind out of his sails, as it were. He didn’t always
have to have the last word. I could recover from this and keep our ridiculous little truce going.
I’m totally screwed.
Just then I heard the alarm go off next door, and I froze. Then I recovered and slipped back under the covers, leaving just my eyes peeping
over.
Wait, why was I hiding? He couldn’t see me.
I heard him slap at the alarm clock, and his feet hit the floor. Why was he up so early? When al was quiet, you truly could hear through these
wal s. How the hel did I not realize before that if I could hear him, he could obviously hear me. I felt my face color as I thought of my dreams again,
but then I got control. This was further aided by Clive head butting the smal of my back in an attempt to physical y push me from the bed to give him
his breakfast.
“Okay, okay, let’s get up. God, you’re such a little jerk sometimes, Clive.”
He fired back a reply over his cat shoulder as he stalked toward the kitchen.
After getting Mr. Clive fed and running myself through the shower, I headed out to meet the girls for brunch. I was leaving the building while
looking at my phone, answering a text from Mimi, when I col ided with a wet, hot wal of Simon.
“Whoa,” I cried as I teetered backward. His arm shot out and caught me just before I went from flustered to flat-out wrong and on my bottom.
“Where are you running off to this morning?” he asked, as I took him in. Sweaty white T-shirt, black running shorts, damp curly hair, iPod, and a
grin.
“You’re sweaty,” I word-vomited.
“I am sweaty. It happens,” he added, sweeping the back of his hand across his forehead, making his hair stand straight up. I had to physical y
block the neurons from my brain trying to get to my fingers with instructions to lift and nestle. Lift and nestle.
He stared down at me, his blue eyes twinkling. He’d make this painful if I didn’t go ahead and out the giant sex elephant in the room.
“So listen, about last night,” I started.
“What about last night? The part where you were berating me about my sex life? Or the part where you were sharing my sex life with your
friends?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and raising his T-shirt to wipe his face. I drew in a breath that sounded like a wind tunnel as I stared at abs
that could almost be speedbumps. Why couldn’t he be a soft, fat neighbor?
“No, I mean the crack you made about the sweet dreams. And the…wel …the thin wal s,” I stammered, avoiding al eye contact. I was suddenly
fascinated by my new shade of toenail polish. It was lovely…
“Ah, yes, the thin wal s. Wel , they work both ways, you know. And if someone were to, say, have a very interesting dream some night, wel , let’s
just say it would be quite entertaining,” he whispered. My knees went a little wobbly. Damn him and his voodoo…
I had to get back in control. I backed up a step.
“Yes, you may have heard something I would have preferred you not hear, but that’s not the way things always go down. So, you got me. But
you won’t actual y ever have me, so let’s move on. You got that? And brunch, by the way,” I finished, concluding my diatribe.
He looked confused and amused at the same time. “Brunch, by the way?”
“Brunch. You asked where I was off to this morning, and my answer is brunch.”
“Ah, got it. And are you meeting your girls that were out with my guys last night?”
“I am, and I wil gladly share the scoop with you if it’s any good,” I laughed, twirling a piece of hair around my finger. Nice. Flirting 101. What the
hell?
“Oh, I’m sure it’s good scoop. Those two look like man-eaters,” he said, rocking back on his heels as he began to stretch a bit.
“Are we talking Hannibal?”
“No, more like Hal & Oates.” He laughed, looking up at me as he stretched his hamstrings.
Christ, hamstrings.
“Yes, wel , they can definitely work a room when they need to,” I said thoughtful y, beginning to back away again.
“And how about you?” he asked, standing straight.
“How about me what?”
“Oh, I bet Pink Nightie Girl can work any room she wants.” He chuckled, his eyes twinkling.
“Eh, work this,” I fired back and walked away with a twinkle of my own.
“Nice,” he added when I shot him a look over my shoulder.