AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The guy, tall and built, glances over at me, and my blood turns to ice. Slightly bloodshot, hooded green eyes lock with mine. They rake boldly down my form before dancing their way back up. A sinful smirk tugs on the corner of his full, cherry red lips as he shifts, his whole body facing me.
I immediately regret being fucking neighborly.
“Hi, Travis.” His voice is deep, raspy. Sexy enough to get under my skin and make my skin crawl. This cannot be happening. “So nice to formally meet you. The last time was a little… rushed.”
Rushed. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?
“Do you live here?” I snarl, taking a step back.
“Sure do, neighbor.” He practically purrs the last part, his accent making it sound like a dirty word.
How is it possible that, of all the places in Desert Creek I could’ve moved into—a town purposely outside of Pullman, where Nathaniel and I lived together—I picked the one across the fucking hall from the guy who helped upend my entire life just last week? What kind of cosmic fucking joke is this?
Shaking my head in disgust, I turn, pulling out my keys to unlock my door. “Unbelievable.”
As soon as I get the key into the lock, I feel him. The hairs on the back of my neck raise as he stands close enough that I can smell his spicy cologne and feel his hot breath on my skin.
“Mateo.” That must be his name. I don’t move, and I say nothing. “Welcome to the building, cariño. If you ever need anything—a cup of sugar, some flour, to let off some steam—don’t be shy.”
He steps back, cool air hitting my back in the absence of him. Only once I hear his door shut, do I exhale the deep breath I was holding. Cariño… what the hell does that mean? Pushing open my front door, I kick it shut behind me, furious at his cockiness. How fucking dare he.
Does he have no shame?
He is caught with his pants around his ankles—quite literally—with my boyfriend, and he has the fucking nerve to make a pass at me. And that fucking smirk… so full of arrogance. I should’ve decked him right in his smug fucking face. A face that, of course, is full of sharp lines, high cheekbones, and ridiculously perfect features. Because why wouldn’t he look like a fucking model?
With my appetite officially gone, I shove the food into the fridge before cracking open one of the beers I’m now even more thankful I got. I wish I had gone to the dispensary this afternoon… could really use a fucking joint right about now.
3
TRAVIS BARNES
Fuck!
Those twelve beers I pounded last night are coming back to haunt me. The daylight is pouring in from my bedroom window because I haven’t had a chance to hang my blackout curtains yet. I haven’t had time to do anything but get shitty drunk and feel sorry for myself. Vaguely, I remember downloading Grindr. I don’t even know why, because a random hook-up is not what I want. The app was deleted an hour after it was downloaded, anyway, because I stumbled upon Nathaniel and my annoying fucking cocky neighbor on there.
Must be how they met.
It’s actually infuriating how good-looking Mateo is, and he knows it, too. He’s gotta be Mexican or Puerto Rican, or something similar. His perfectly dark, bronzed skin tells me as much, as does his accent. He probably bags a lot of ass that way. He talks to them in his deep, sultry voice, rolls his Rs in that sexy fucking way, and suddenly they’re rolling around for him.
Asshole.
It’s not only his voice that he’s got going for him either. It’s his eyes… they’re so bright, yet pale. Almost mint green. And it’s also the tattoos. He was wearing a jacket last night, but they snaked up his neck. He even had some on the side of his head where it’s buzzed short. I just know if he were to take his clothes off, they’d cover every inch of him. He was mostly dressed when I walked in on him in my house—my old house—so, that doesn’t tell me much. His beard is short and thick, perfectly manicured, just like his eyebrows. There’s a hoop in his nose, and his lips are plump, the bottom one more so than the top, and prominently red. Kissable.
It's no wonder Nathaniel let him fuck him. He’s the poster child for tall, dark, and handsome. How could I ever have competed with all that?
My blond hair is chaotic, never sitting right. I’m sure if I glanced in the mirror right now, it’d look like I stuck my finger in a light socket. And my eyes are plain blue. Which yes, a lot of people do seem to like blue eyes, but they aren’t a shimmering mint fucking green that practically radiates off tan skin. And speaking of skin, mine’s about as pale as it can get without being translucent. I’m nearly as tall as Mateo, only an inch or two shorter, but where he’s all beefy and built, I’m lanky and lean. Now, for the sake of being fair, I can admit, I’m not totally out of shape. A vague six-pack is visible, and my pectorals are nice. But still, he’s… absolutely everything I am not.
What the fuck am I doing? Comparing myself to a fucking douchebag? This is pathetic.
Rubbing both my closed eyes with my fists, I roll out of bed and immediately regret doing so. My head throbs, like someone’s playing ping-pong inside my skull. Except the ping-pong balls are rocks. My throat is so dry, if I don’t guzzle some water soon, I’ll probably turn to dust.
After taking the world’s longest piss, I pad out into the kitchen. My glasses aren’t unpacked yet, and I don’t feel like doing that right now. So, instead, I turn the faucet on, sticking my mouth under it and drinking straight from the source. I’ve got a lot to fucking do today. I’m back at work tomorrow, and I don’t feel like doing any of this after I get off.
The grumbling of my stomach reminds me that I never ate last night. It also reminds me of the Mexican food I have in the fridge. While I heat up the chicken enchiladas with beans and rice, I scour the apartment for the phone I’ve seemed to misplace. It wasn’t on my bed or on the floor beside it when I woke up, either.
The microwave dings after a minute and a half, and I give up. I can find the stupid phone later. The aroma coming from the kitchen smells so fucking good; I’m practically salivating by the time I walk back in there. Thank God they provided plastic silverware, because I do not feel like going through my boxes to find mine.
Not even ten minutes later, I’m shoveling in my last bite, and just as I figured, it was fucking delicious. Tossing the garbage in the can beside the counter, I meander into the bathroom. May as well take a shower before I get to unpacking. Flicking on the light, I notice my phone sitting on the counter.
