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What the hell! Did they make a pack to torture me with sexual innuendos?
They did! I know it. There is no way the universe produced a male version of Harper. One is enough.
This is her doing. She’s trying to ensure I laugh and feel when she flies back home.
One might think it’s a loving gesture if they were the devil.
Why couldn’t she have found a sweet old lady to keep me company?
I deliver a swift kick to Harper that silences her next comment that would have struck me: DOA.
My new neighbor turns, a glass of water in his good hand. A black sling wraps around his neck, cradling his other hand to his chest.
As I watch him walk, my breath flutters and his eyes focus on me again. I glance down, only to feel a magnetic pull drawing my eyes back to his. I've never seen a man like him. He's not a polished, lying politician. He's rugged and says exactly what he thinks. He was willing to drag my movers out of the elevator. My ex never would have done that; he'd do something more backhanded.
His eyes are deep grey with a slight blue hue. They are cold yet calming, like a thunderstorm.
I lick my lips. I'm turned on. It's been so long since I truly felt giddy.
His jaw is strong and clean-shaven. His brown hair is also shaved short, giving him a ‘don’t fuck with me or I’ll kill you, motherfucker’ attitude.
He is the complete opposite of Andrew. That is the biggest turn-on.
He kneels in front of me, glass in hand. My lips part.
What I must look like. Sweaty, messy, dirty hair, a stained shirt. Fuck! Harper was right. I need new clothes. I want to look like a Lululemon catalog right now.
Did I just think that? I did. Again.
I haven’t wanted to look sexy for a man in over three years. Not since that night. Thus, the baggy clothes.
I watch as his eyes roam over my face. What does he see? Why do I feel his eyes don’t care if I am dressed to the nines or rocking homeless chic?
My hazel eyes continue to drink him in; his eyes devour mine. I don’t fully grasp what is happening here, panicking over the spark of chemistry my brain is surging through my body.
I want to trust those eyes, but it’s hard. Trust isn’t easy. My first instinct is to run far and fast.
Why do I want to trust him? I don’t even know his name.
“Here you go,” his voice is deep, the slight hint of a Texas accent hugging his final words.
He hands me a large glass of water, his fingers brushing mine as I accept it, and like a fairytale, I feel a spark. My insides clench. It feels like it’s just the two of us. Eye to eye. He’s surveying me, and I’m in awe of him.
“Thank you,” I whisper in a hurry to take a sip. I don’t know what is happening in my mind right now, but this sudden change freaks me out. I stand and extend the glass back to him.
I don’t want to rush into anything. I want to take this new chapter of my life slowly. I don’t want to make a mistake and trust the wrong person again.
“I need to go.” Why does my voice sound so weak?
“Sit down, Poppy.” He orders me.
I sit. Just like that. Not from fear. It’s the hormones again. The fact that his steel eyes are still watching me. Seeing me. If he ordered me to lay down on his bed, I would obey. It’s not out of fear like it was with Andrew. This is something else. Chemical? Physical? I don’t know, but I'll call up a Nobel Prize-winning chemist to figure it out.
“How do you know my name?” I whisper.
He leans against his wall, one leg crossed over the other. “Harper told me.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” I nod, my eyes leaving him to see Harper fully engaged with Kent. She giggles as they leave the apartment, walking out the front door.
