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I unhook the chain latch, turn the lock, and school my expression into something that I hope looks unimpressed before I throw open the door. He’s wearing a worn gray T-shirt with some vaguely familiar logo on it and equally worn navy sweatpants. I’d like to say he looks a lot better in his underwear than he does clothed, but that might be a lie.
The T-shirt stretches across his broad chest, contouring to the muscles. His pants, which might be baggy on a different body type, hug his muscular thighs.
“Oh look, you do actually own clothes.” I’m going for bitchy-slash-sarcastic to offset the fact that I have openly ogled him.
“Uh, yeah. I just don’t like wearing them unless I have to leave my apartment.” He thumbs over his shoulder.
That’s an interesting thing to admit to someone he hardly knows. “So you’re what? A home nudist?”
The image of him this morning, holding his trouser snake—and subsequently peeing all over my toilet seat—pops into my head. I have enough of a visual, minus what his ass looks like not covered in fabric, to almost perfectly imagine him swinging free.
“If my brother didn’t live with me, I might be.” He slips his crutches out from under his arms and leans them against the wall. “Anyway, I wanted to bring you a peace offering.” He braces a hand on the doorframe and grimaces as he bends forward.
That’s when I notice the pizza box from Sammy’s Pizzeria and the potted plant on the floor by his feet. I’ve ordered from there a couple of times in the past week because there was a brochure stuck to the fridge with a magnet that boasted a free pizza. “Why don’t you let me get that?”
“I can do it,” he grunts. He’s folded over, trying to bend at the knees and lower himself enough to pick the stuff up.
“Even if you can, I’m going to go ahead and say you probably shouldn’t.”
He ignores me and manages to catch the edge of the potted plant. He rights himself and thrusts it at me with a groan. “This is for you.”
“You’re giving me an aloe plant?”
“I noticed you didn’t have any plants in your apartment. My brother has a green thumb, and we have like fifteen aloe plants. They’re hardy and useful.” His eyes dart around, and the tips of his ears go red.
“Okay. Well, thanks?” I can’t decide whether it’s a thoughtful gift or just convenient. Either way, it’s unconventional. And possibly a little odd that he noticed my lack of plants.
“You’re welcome.” He starts to bend again.
I crouch and pick up the pizza box before he gets too far and ends up face planting into my feet. “Do you need help getting into your apartment with this?”
“It’s for you.” His cheeks have turned the same color as his ears.
“You brought me an aloe plant and a pizza?” I set the plant on the side table by the door so I can take a peek inside the box. It’s the exact same kind I’ve ordered both times since I moved in: pepperoni, bacon, ham, pineapple, green olives, and hot peppers. It’s an odd combination, but the sweet of the pineapple with the salty of the olives and the heat of the peppers is delicious. At least I think so. The question is, How the hell does my neighbor know exactly what I like on my pizza?
He must read the question on my face, because his goes even redder, if that’s even possible. “I saw a couple of boxes from Sammy’s in your recycling, so I called and ordered whatever had been delivered last.”
That’s a lot less creepy and a lot more resourceful than any of the other scenarios I entertained, like him going through my garbage and performing a sniff test. “Thanks for bringing me dinner and a plant?” I don’t know what else to say to him. It’s a nice gesture, even if it’s a strange one.
“I ordered the pizza like an hour ago, thinking you’d be home earlier, so you might need to reheat it.”
“Okay.” I don’t make a move to close the door, and he doesn’t make a move to leave.
He chews on the inside of his lip like he’s waiting for something. Maybe he expects me to invite him to share the pizza with me. Or this is supposed to be his way of wiping the slate clean.
“Is there something else?”
He blows out a breath. “I, uh . . . I could kind of use a favor.”
Well, that explains the plant and the pizza. “A favor?”
“Yeah. Uh, my car is still at the arena, and I left a bunch of stuff in it that I need, but I can’t drive.” He rubs the back of his neck. “If you’re not busy, maybe I can ask you to come with me to drive it home?”
