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“Do you think I stand a chance?” he asked carefully, and I took a sip of my drink, nodding. I need something stronger.
“With me as your wing-woman? Definitely!”
“Oh, thank you, Brooke! I knew I could count on you.” He grabbed my hand again and pressed his lips on it.
Why couldn’t it be me?
“Any time.” I offered him a tight smile, and we discussed how he could approach Marie and show her his feelings.
I was rejected, and it hurt like hell. I should’ve said something earlier, then I wouldn’t be so jealous of my friend.
Chapter 9
Asher
“Oh, this broken heart needs mending!” I heard someone sing terribly in the hallway. “It bleeeds.” Was that a high note?
I placed my book down on the couch as I got up, switching off the television in the process. My perfect night always consisted of putting Anne to bed a bit earlier than her bedtime, and it always worked because she would be exhausted from all the games we would play, and after that, I would sit on the couch and catch up on my favorite novel while the television played softly in the background.
It had always been perfect, until now. My rowdy neighbor sang sad love songs in the hallway, with cursing cut in between, and proceeded to ruin hit love songs right after.
When she left our fun conversation, I couldn’t resist staring her body in that sundress, and she had her perfect brown hair let loose today. It had sparked my idea that she was going out on a date tonight, but now she was singing sad love songs in the hallway.
I opened my door and leaned against the frame as I watched her point an accusing finger at her locked door.
“You shouldn’t fight me; I chose you!” she slurred, as she hit the door with her bag.
Oh, she was wasted.
“I mean, look at your patterns,” she traced the engravings of her new door passionately, sniffling. “You are perfect for me. You’re pretty.” Was she begging the door to open? “Psht, pretty!”
She scoffed as she let go of the door and crossed her arms.
“I thought I was pretty, but look where that got me.” She pressed her finger on her chest as she stared at the door with her eyes wide open. Brooke was absolutely insane, and this was going into my petition.
She was loud, an almost arsonist, and a drunk. A whole package deal. Her being gorgeous could really deceive a person. Brooke tapped her fingers against the door so quickly I almost didn’t recognize it.
Asshole? Who is she calling asshole, and how does she know Morse code?
“Ugh!” she yelled as she continued tapping on the door, venting out her frustrations silently in Morse. Idiot, she said through her tapping, and when that wasn’t enough, she kicked the door with her bare foot and winced as she bent down to soothe the ache.
“Brooke,” I called out, and she stood up straight, dropping the items in her hands as she pretended to be sober.
“Asherrr,” she said as she flipped her once-perfect-now-frizzy hair over her shoulder. “What can I help you with?”
“Shut it down; people are resting,” I told her as I opened my door again, and she made a strange sound. I stopped in my tracks and watched as she put her hands over her mouth. “What is it?”
“Hmm-hmm.” She shook her head, and I approached her, wanting to be entertained by whatever was on the tip of her tongue but that she wouldn’t say.
“Brooke.”
“Since you’re begging.” She removed her hands from her mouth and tilted her head up to stare at me defiantly. “You’re hot.”
That was it?
She giggled as she stared at my torso, her hand hesitating to touch my body as she stared at my abs shamelessly.
“Do you sleep naked?” she whispered when she finally found the courage to touch my abs. I had no idea what I was expecting, but her hands were warm.
