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Because Gabriel Everhart is a stubborn, flightless bird. At home, he acts like he's the only one living in this building, and at work, he drags his feet so slowly I can see the snail trail behind him.
And I already warned him. So now I’m putting my foot down.
With a decent shirt and my sleeping shorts on, I march out of my apartment, take the elevator, and head for Gabriel's apartment.
I rear back, fist folded tight, and ram it against the door three times. It opens almost immediately, and “Blondie” stands in the doorway.
"Oh," she says. "It's you. I'll get Gabe."
I don't bother telling her please or thank you. At this point, I want him and everyone else out of this building.
Gabriel comes out a minute later, wearing an unbuttoned flowery shirt and khaki shorts. Without my express will, my eyes linger on his chest and his well-defined muscles long enough that it takes him clearing his throat for me to drag my eyes away.
"You are having another party," I say in an accusing tone. "Do you have no consideration for your neighbors?"
"The music isn't as loud as the last time," he says as his smile drops.
"Well, guess what? Your guests do not need the music to make a ruckus. I can hear their conversations loud enough that it's interfering with me getting anything done. If you want to party, why can't you just go out like other people?"
He shrugs.
"Because most of these people are my friends?"
Friends? Who would be friends with a grumpy, insufferable person like Gabriel Everhart?
I sneer. "Friends? Have you asked them what they think about you, or do you throw parties so you don’t have to be alone with your thoughts?"
I watch as his face contorts into something unpleasant, and it takes everything to keep the smile from appearing on my face or the laughter from spilling out. Both fade away as soon as Gabriel steps into my personal space.
"Let me ask you something," his voice is gravelly and low and I shiver. "Do you have a social life, or were you the weird kid in school that no one talked to? The kid that sat alone at lunch and wished someone would invite you to their table?"
Anger boils inside me as he hits a raw nerve.
"Let me guess," he goes on, "when you got to college, you thought all that would change for you. But it didn't. Instead, you were the college kid who got to class before everyone, and never went out or made friends just found solace in your books."
He's not entirely correct, but he is not far from the truth. And I hate that he can read me that well.
"Are you the clown at a kiddy party?" I retort.
"Why would I—"
I laugh. "You're pretty slow sometimes, Mr. Everhart. Or should I say every time? Because you always get your way at work you think that applies to everyday life."
"And you, Miss Quinn, are arrogant. You want to get everything done in your timeframe. That's why you live with your dog."
I frown. What does having a dog have to do with my habit of making sure everything works according to a specific timeframe and keeping to a schedule?
When I see the smirk on Gabriel's face, I open my mouth to speak, but he walks away, leaving me standing in front of the door, having lost the last word. I grind my teeth as I watch him go, wishing I had an invisible cloak. If I did, I would tiptoe over and smack him in the head.
"Stubborn, flightless bird," I mutter.
His head whips around sharply as if he heard me, and I slam the door while he's still looking.
"There," I dust my hands off, "I got the last word after all, Mr. Everhart."
***
"Don't tell me you'll make me go alone?" Mira, my best friend who lives miles away but somehow found herself in the city, says as she tugs on my arm. "Please, Harper?"
