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Pushing his raven-black hair away from his face, he closed the lid on the garbage bin and spared me one final look before he marched up the stone footpath to his porch. The screen door swung open and closed at once, and his huge frame disappeared within the house.
If Griffin hadn’t been my neighbor from hell, I’d have half the mind to consider him attractive.
With a build like that, taut with muscle and tattooed to high heaven, I had no doubt he could have his pick of women. And he likely did.
While I didn’t exactly see him chauffeuring local women into his home each night, I couldn’t help but wonder if it happened when I was asleep or otherwise preoccupied. Or maybe he met them elsewhere?
It seemed unlikely, since he was usually home each night, kicked back on his porch. He used every power he had within himself to get on my nerves.
Regardless of any nefarious dealings he might or might not get up to, he didn’t need to be so cranky with me. I only wanted to be a decent neighbor, and who could blame me for wanting his trash off my lawn?
The more I thought about it, the more irritated I became. My magic sparked from beneath my skin, triggered by the continuous anger that coursed through my system. But I urged it down. It wasn’t serious enough to call my powers in.
With a steadying breath, I continued into the house and tried to forget about him.
Even if he was ridiculously shredded and easy to look at, he was ignorant and unapproachable. Besides, he was too old for me. That was reason enough to remind myself it didn’t matter. I didn’t need him to like me, but at the very least, a friendly conversation now and again wouldn’t hurt either of us.
Chapter 2 - Griffin
I love my mom … I love my dad … My parents mean well…
The more the words circulated through my head as a reminder of why I was stuck sitting at a table covered by a sickening red cloth with wine and breadsticks, the more reluctant they seemed to feel. The more I wanted to get out of there.
I was on date number eleven—another attempt by my parents to find me a mate.
I’m sure the woman sitting across from me was a fine person, but I just wasn’t interested. She spoke so easily to me like it was second nature for her, yet I was in agony on the inside.
While she rambled on about something that had to do with her work—she was a receptionist, which she let me know more than once—my mind wandered.
Again and again, I thought about different ways I could get out of it. I could sit and hope Rowan would text me and pretend it was an emergency. Fake an allergy. Or I could be as repulsive as possible and have her run off all disturbed-like.
Yet, I committed to none of those ideas. Instead, I remained in my seat across from her and sipped my wine which was not at all my taste. I nodded now and again and began to question what her name even was.
There was virtually no connection between us, even if I was the only one at the table who could see it. She was more than happy to chat and pick at the breadsticks, but I was far from hungry.
“And so, I told Liz from the office that I just couldn’t take it anymore. Between the stressful shifts and the constant fighting, I had to call it off with Liam. I quit my job not long after too, and while that looked bleak for a while, I had a friend named Thomas give me a call…”
Despite being beyond old enough to know how to shut someone down, there was something in me that wouldn’t let it happen. I had so many chances to let her know I didn’t want to be there, but I could already hear my mom’s voice.
She’s a great girl! Give her a chance.
I nodded along when I needed to in order to look engaged and I gave her the occasional small smile, but my attention was not in the room with us.
“I’ve been working at the office ever since, and it has been the best change for me. In fact, your mother is actually a patient of Thomas’. That was how I met her, and she told me all about you.”
Another forced half-smile. “I’m sure she did.”
My date’s eyes glimmered as if I had gone above and beyond with my small participation, and she spoke against her glass, “I’m not normally one to believe in fate, but I have the feeling she came in for her appointment at the right time.”
My money’s on that she just had an appointment—nothing more. No hidden meanings. No fate involved.
As another long-winded story popped into her head, I could hardly muster the strength to sit in that chair and listen any longer. My foot tapped against the floor, and I wanted nothing more than to get up and bolt out of the room.
Listening to her talk was like watching paint dry. Agonizing. Torturous. I felt antsy, and I needed an out no matter how I found one.
“Excuse me, sorry,” I murmured, stopping her story before she could even finish it. “I need to visit the restroom.”
“Oh, no problem!” she said with that overly wide grin, painted a far brighter red than I appreciated.
