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Jamie
There’s something about my next-door neighbor that makes me want to get to know her. I mean, she’s sexy as fuck even though she hides her luscious curves under saggy sweatshirts and bulky sweats, and she’s as sweet as they come. Too sweet for me, that’s for sure. But I know there’s something hidden under those baggy clothes and under those eyelashes she’s always lowering whenever I’m around.
I like to flirt with her and I like to tease her, and she’s fucking adorable when her face turns red and her cheeks huff and puff and her Bambi eyes bug out of their sockets. She thinks I’m a shit and I am, more times than not.
Ididn't always used to be.Five years ago I’d been busking on the streets of Dublin when I met a young American socialite who’d claimed to have fallen head over heels in love with me. We married in Ireland and I’d come back to the US with her, only to discover I was the button she used to royally piss off Mummy and Father.We tried to make it work, but about a year and a half ago I got divorced, received my ID, and took off for the West Coast. LA, baby. Those years had been fucked up, but they’d taught me a few things, most importantly being that people put up facades and you can’t trust them worth shit.
But those facades come down when people get pissed off. Which meant I liked pushing buttons. I liked watching the facade fall away, the fake, sugar coating melt off, and the forced niceties die, leaving just the real person before me.
I liked pissing people off, because I liked seeing the truth. And I need the truth. We all do.
So I liked calling Tessa every name in the book but her own just to get a rise out of her, trying to see if she’d show me the real her. But while she'd clearly been annoyed or frustrated with me, she'd never let go of her composure--until earlier when she'd beenpounding on my door like a goddamned jackhammer. When I'd seen her, her hair a mess and her cheeks flushed and her eyes flashing like some wild bronco, I realized this was the moment I’d been waiting for. Finally, she’d shed her Good Girl façade and let me see the real her. Who could have known that all it took was not holding the elevator for Tessa to finally lose it? And full disclosure—I did try to push the Open button but my elbow slipped and the damned door closed before she could get onboard.
Clearly that was a good thing, because as much as I would have liked being in the elevator with her, I liked opening the door and seeing therealTessa in front of me even more.
I liked the way she buzzed with electricity as if her hair was going to stand up straight from her head at any moment with static. I liked the way she railed at me, holding nothing back, letting me see her fire and fury. And I especially liked how unguarded and piercing her eyes were. She was showing me something fucking beautiful, honest, raw.
I couldn’t stop staring at her. I hadn’t thought the meek little mouse had a lion in her, but fuck me if that wasn’t a goddamn roar.
And then—holy hell, she’d put her hands on me while taunting me with how much she wanted and needed me. She was pissed, but I also saw the genuine desire in her eyes. I’d tried warning her to back off, and when she didn’t, I’d kissed her. I melded my mouth with hers, tasted her, licked her, feeling her chest racing, her heart beating. I’d caught her by surprise, but by the time my cymbal came to a crashing halt on the floor, I felt her tongue twist around mine.
Well, who the fuck would have thought? The quiet, respectable girl next door had some spunk.
I grabbed her ass and lifted her up, taking two big steps until her back hit the opposite wall. She was grinding against me and I was getting hard and the kiss was turning into a precursor to sex, but then the elevator door clanged and our apartment manager Henry had to ruin everything.
I'd always disliked the guy. Now Ifucking hated him.
Tessa had shoved me away, cheeks flushed and breath heavy. She’d been embarrassed by Henry catching us, but I caught her touching her lips where the ghost of my lips certainly lingered. I hoped it lingered all night. I hoped she slipped one hand down beneath the sheets while she kept the other on her lips and touched herself while she remembered me.
I should have gone back inside. Left her and Henry to talk, but I’d been feeling protective, and possessive. She’d looked at Henry with something akin to dread, so I figured I’d wait and see what the guy wanted. Then Henry dropped the bomb on Tessa.
I’d been evicted enough times to know how fucked up it is when you hear you’re about to lose your home. I watched every single emotion play crystal clear across Tessa’s face as she realized what was happening. She was an open book for me in that moment. She’d forgotten to put back on her polite smile, her ‘everything is just fine’ smile, her ‘just smile, just keep on smiling’ smile.
I liked her better without it. I liked the real her. I liked the real her a lot.
I was determined to see that real her again.
And I was determined to do something about her getting kicked out of her apartment. I mean, her studio was a shit place to live—I’d told Henry when I moved in that I needed a place away from other residents because I had to practice at all hours, so I’d had the fifth floor to myself until Henry let Tessa rent the room at half-price, with the understanding that I’d be pounding away on my Ludwig drums and clashing my Zildjian cymbals twenty-four/seven. Maybe I could convince Henry to give her another chance if I made her rent current. Granted, it wasn’t like I was rich, but I had a pretty good savings considering all I did in life nowadays was eat, fuck, and play my music. If my neighbor needed a loan to cover a month, I’d figure out a way to make it work.
But as I saw her eyes dim and her expression crumble and embarrassment at her public humiliation started to come over her, I knew it was time for me to go. I didn’t want to make her feel even more shitty about her life, so I headed into my apartment. I’d offer her the money later.
God, who would have thought. I didn’t just want to bang my neighbor.
I liked her. Fucking hell—me, the Irish lout, liked the girl next door. How fucking suburban of me.
Throwing the cymbal back onto the table, I sat down naked at my drum set. Then I composed a song.
A song for her.
A song forTessa.
Chapter 3
Tessa
Twenty minutes later, listening to Jamie pounding away on his drums, I stared into the bottom of my ramen cup, squinting at the leftover bits of noodle and two peas and wondering if they could tell the future.
Maybe the peas were the balls and the noodle was the shaft and I was supposed to go cut Jamie’s irritatingly impressive dick off. Or maybe it meant that this was the closest I was going to get to getting laid for a long time. I swallowed the balls and sucked up the limp dick noodles and sighed.
