Penny stayed quiet, clearing her throat and giving me a suspicious nod with a small, sharp dip of her chin. I chose to ignore it for now. Maybe dating wasn’t a good idea.
I finished wrapping up, grabbed my things, and we stepped outside, turning to glance back at the shop one last time for the night.
“Let me just drop this in my truck real quick.” I nodded toward the alley. Penny trailed close behind as I led us down the sidewalk, rounding the corner where my truck sat tucked between the buildings.
A square piece of paper caught my eye—light brown and fluttering slightly in the breeze, perched on the center of my windshield.
“What’s that?” Penny asked, pointing.
“I don’t know,” I murmured, approaching with mild suspicion.
It looked like a napkin. I peeled it off, unfolded it slowly, and blinked at the unfamiliar handwriting scrawled across the inside.
Neighbor who I annoy,
I thought it would be beneficial for you to have my number. You know, just in case I do something to piss you off again. You can just text me instead.
Your very sorry neighbor
I scoffed softly, a surprised laugh catching in my throat. Of course. Ofcourseit was him.
Folding the napkin, I shoved it into the back pocket of my jeans and glanced up. Penny was already watching me, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
“What?” I asked innocently, trying to play it cool as I tossed my bag into the backseat of the truck and slammed the door shut.
“Don’t ‘what’ me,” she said, following me like a bloodhound. “What did it say?”
“It was from the annoying neighbor guy.” I brushed it off as we made our way back toward Petal Pusher. She was close on my heels, nearly tripping over my boots with how fast she was trying to keep up.
“And…?” she pressed, not about to let this one go.
I opened the front door, heading upstairs to the apartment, my fingers fumbling with the key ring.
“I’m not going to stop asking, you know.”
“Fine,” I relented, pushing the door open and stepping into the mostly empty space. “It was his phone number.”
Penny gasped dramatically, walking to the stack of boxes in the middle of the living room.
“Oh my God. That’s dangerous.”
I turned to face her, brow raised. “How is that dangerous? It’s just a phone number.”
“Are you going to do anything with it?” She tossed her tote to the side and popped a hip out as she studied me.
I didn’t have an answer.
Was I going to use it?
Maybe. Maybe not. What would it matter if I did?
He was cute. No denying that. Not my type, though… but maybe that was the point. Maybe not being my type wasexactlywhat I needed.
Something unfamiliar could be good for me. A little chaos to shake things loose. I’d spent too long boxed in by the expectations of this town, letting its comfort become a cage.
Men here felt like clones—predictable, performative, and polished just enough to make you think they cared. But someone new? Someone from the city, with messy charm and arms that looked like they could throw me over his shoulder without breaking a sweat?
Nowthatsounded like a damn dream.
