How fortuitous.
With a wobbly smile, I take it from him and fill out the check, giving the man every last penny to my name.
He clicks the top before stuffing both the pen and my check into his pocket. “Happy New Year.”
“Yeah, same to you.” I watch him leave, that weight in my stomach growing so heavy I can barely drag myself over to the cube of tiny mailboxes outside our apartment block.
So much for letting loose this weekend.
Not that there’s much I could have afforded to do anyway.
More good news waits inside in the form of a late notice for my credit card payment that I could’ve sworn I scheduled.Dammit.These interest rates are criminal. Whoever thought it’d be a good idea to let eighteen-year-old college freshmen sign up for credit cards should be thrown in jail.
I shuffle through the rest of my mail—mostly junk, thank goodness. All except for the final envelope from a bank I’ve never heard of. Probably because it’s not my bank, but Elliott’s.
I seriously hope he has more money in his account than I do.
I trudge up five flights of stairs, stopping by Elliott’s apartment to slip the mis-delivered letter under his door. Right when I kneel down to dop it off, his red door suddenly swings wide open.
Elliott glances down at where I kneel, letter in hand, his eyes wide and a slow smile curving over his lips. “How did you know it was my birthday?”
Wait. Does he think I’m leaving him a birthday card? “What are you talking about?”
“You’re on your knees at my door, Loren. I think you can see where I’m going with this.” He waggles his brows, his grin growing.
What an idiot. How I’d love to offer a sarcastic remark in response to that, but I’m all out of moneyandhumor. “Hilarious.” I shoot to my feet and shove the letter at his chest.
He catches it, then my hand. That smarmy smile no longer anywhere to be seen. “Hey. You okay?”
No, I’m not.
“Sorry for the tasteless joke,” he says. “It was inappropriate.”
“You’re the only tasteless joke I see.”
His grin returns, and he drops my hand. “There she is. For a second I thought I offended you. We still on for this weekend? I’ve been looking forward to crab cakes all week.”
Crap. I completely forgot that with all the holiday craziness we had to postpone our dinner.
Josh may have apologized for playing the jealousy card, but my neighbor clearly bothers him. It feels dishonest to cook for Elliott the moment Josh heads out of town. “Actually, I can’t tonight. Something came up. Sorry.”
“Sure, sure.” He winks at me, which shouldn’t make my stomach jump, but it leaps anyway. “Whatever you say. You let me know when you feel like ‘cooking.’” His air quotes irritate me a hundred times more than his stupid joke.
Part of me wants him to press, to try and convince me. But he doesn’t. He winks once more, turns on his heel, and heads back into his place.
I slip inside my stuffy apartment and throw open the windows before dropping onto my bed and praying for a breeze.
When Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf,” drifts through the adjoining wall, I can’t help but smile. That is until I realize that, in denying Elliott his crab cakes, I won’t have anything to eat later either.
The knock at my door is as unexpected as the snow that’s fallen outside on the balcony, dusting the concrete and the trees beyond in white fluff.
I pause the episode ofAntiques Roadshowand mosey over to the door, completely stupefied when I whip the door aside to see Elliott down on one knee, a box in one hand and a sheepish smile on his face.
“Well, well, well.” How the tables have turned. “You know, it’s not my birthday but I do appreciate a man on his knees. Unfortunately for you, I have a boyfriend.”
He pops back to his feet with a grin and a teasing, “Unfortunately for us both, you mean.”
Okay, that was… well, it was the kind of banter I would normally die for. Single-Loren would clap back with something even more inappropriate; however, coupled-Loren thinks all these innuendos feel a little too close to flirting.
