I really thought Josh was perfect. It’s like he distracted me with his smile and his shoulders, and my brain malfunctioned?—
From what I heard in there…
Elliott’s comment strikes like lightning.
My hand tightens, squeezing the bottle almost hard enough to shatter the damn thing. “What do you mean, what you heard ‘in there?’”
Elliott leans closer, resting his elbows on the railing between our units. “Let’s just say that the next time you decide to have sex, you should probably close the window.”
Looks like this nightcanget worse.
I drink until the final drop of beer splashes down my throat only to realize this isn’t going to cut it. I need something stronger and then I need to pack up my things and move far, far away from this guy. “I can’t believe you listened to me having sex.” I thought him overhearing my conversation was embarrassing.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were having sex too. All I could hear was your boyfriend moaning.”
“You’re a creep. You know that, right?”
With a chuckle, Elliot pushes off the railing and disappears inside his apartment. I wait for him to return, but he never does.
When I head back inside, Josh is still asleep in the middle of the bed, so I end up curling up on the floor with a spare blanket. A couple minutes later, Radiohead’s “Creep” seeps through the shared wall.
I really shouldn’t smile, but my lips don’t get the memo.
I guess I can’t be too annoyed that Elliott overheard me. I mean, I’ve heard him and his plethora of women more times than I care to remember.
I only wish I’d been the one moaning instead of Josh.
CHAPTER 9
ELLIOTT
MOM
If you don’t answer, I’m going to report you as a missing person
Don’t think I won’t
Your uncle is in the sheriff’s department and he owes me a favor
I stand in my kitchen,coffee mug in-hand, literally banging my head against the wall as my mom’s syrupy voice oozes through my phone’s speaker where I’ve abandoned it on the counter. It was either that or squeeze the damn thing so hard the screen cracks.
“Your Dad’s making himself sick over this. He could really use your help.”
Thump. Thump. Thump.Hello, wall, so good to see you again. “I’m busy, Mom.”
“With yourjob?”
She knows saying it like that makes me angry. That’s why she does it.
I let my forehead fall, unable to hold myself up any longer. Even my bones are tired, which, according to my darling mother, is my own reckless fault for not sticking to finance.
I could be CFO by now—her words, not mine.
But no. I had to go and throw it all away on some fool-hearted venture. That her brother willingly invested in said venture should’ve been enough to prove I’m not a fool. Instead, it drove a wedge between them.
We both know what’s coming next: The guilt trip.
You’re our only child…
