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“Oh. Wow, um…wow.” She looks nonplussed, and I internally kick myself for coming on too strong. But a moment later, she fishes her phone out of her purse and unlocks it, then hands it to me. “For, uh, your number.” Her cheeks darken as she watches me put myself into her contacts.
When I hand her phone back, our fingers touch and a jolt of energy races up my spine. I almost drop her phone and she giggles at my clumsiness. Our eyes meet and my pulse races as a moment of weighted silence passes between us.
Touch her. Taste her. Take what you need.
The tension breaks as Grace returns. Her mischievous smile from earlier has been replaced by a crestfallen expression, her eye makeup smudged like she’s been crying. “Grace, what’s wrong?” Mona asks, rushing to her friend’s side.
“Zack posted on Instagram that he’s engaged. Toher.”
Mona grimaces and pulls Grace into a hug. “Shit. I’m so sorry. What a bastard.”
I turn away, not wanting to insert myself into something so private. When they part, Grace sniffles and moves back toward their booth. Mona gives me an apologetic look. “Her ex-husband,” she explains. “Sorry, I should go make sure she’s okay…”
My heart goes out to her friend, and I push back the disappointment at the abrupt end of our conversation to give her a smile. “Yeah, of course. Don’t let me keep you.”
Mona crosses the bar and settles back in her booth with Grace, squeezing her friend’s hand in support. At least I know her name now.Mona. I wonder how often she gets asked if she’s named after the Mona Lisa. It fits her enigmatic allure. I’m already desperate to talk to her again.
Shit, I should have asked for her number. I have a sinking feeling that she was just humoring me by letting me give her mine. Probably for the best, given my reaction to her. I debate going over to ask for her number once Grace is calmer, but movement at Lydia’s table makes the decision for me. She’s hugging one of her coworkers and slipping her jacket back on, so I head out to my car, sparing one last lingering glance at my siren before I leave.
7
Clutching my apartment keys, I prepare myself before getting out of my car. I hate getting home after dark. Not because I think anyone plans on attacking me. No, because of the creepy sentinel who lives below me. He must get bored at night, because I’ve caught him watching me through the small window that looks out on our shared stoop if I make too much noise or take too long opening my door. Nothing like looking down to fish out my keys and back up to see him lurking there with a dead-eyed stare.
I should report him to our landlord, but what would they do? Send him a politely worded letter to stop looking at me? God, I can only imagine how much worse that’d make things. So as long as all he does is stare, I’ll keep sneaking into my own home at night.
Thankfully, I slip inside without incident tonight. My entryway is little more than a landing with a set of stairs up to my apartment, so I can hear muffled conversation through the walls. Sounds like he has someone over, though I can’t imagine voluntarily spending time with him. I hope he didn’t abduct them.
My phone vibrates as I get to the top of the stairs, and I see Grace texted.
Grace: Home now. Sorry about tonight. I didn’t mean to ruin the fun.
Poor Grace. She’s working so hard to move on after her husband left her six months ago, but finding out he’s engaged to the woman he cheated on her with must be devastating. I wish I could curse his dick off. I’m sure Rachel’s already tried multiple times.
Mona: You have nothing to apologize for! Glad you’re home safe. Please text me if you need anything. Even if it’s the middle of the night. I love you so much and I’m sorry you have to deal with that piece of shit.
Grace: Love you, Mona. Don’t know what I’d do without you.
Mona: Good, because you’re stuck with me.
Grace: So Mr. Smoldering Stare isn’t going to steal you away from me? Because he was hot enough that I wouldn’t blame you.
I kind of hoped she’d forget about the guy at the bar.Max. God, he was pretty damn hot. And into me? My skin prickles thinking about the way he looked at me, those sparkling eyes full of dark promise. I don’t think a man’s ever looked at me like that before, let alone one as handsome as him. I’m still confused by it.
Mona: I did get his number, but I doubt it. He’s probably just looking for a quick hookup with an easy target.
Grace: YOU GOT HIS NUMBER?!? OMG you have to text him!! Even if he just wants sex, you could stand to get laid.
Mona: Thanks for the reminder. But I’m not good at casual sex.
Now that she brought it up, I can’t get the image of him bending me over and railing me from behind out of my head. I bet he’d be rough with me. Why does that thought turn me on so much?
Mona:…I’ll think about texting him. Not tonight though! It’s too late and if he wants to hook up, I need more time to prep. Shaving on its own will take me a few days.
Grace: I bet he’d be into your sasquatch look.
I laugh as I say goodnight to Grace, then plug my phone in before the battery dies. The sound of yappy barking outside makes my chest tighten. It sounds so much like Nugget’s barks when he was young and full of shrill exuberance. I move to the window, glad that I forgot to close the blinds again so I can watch as a fluffball pomeranian shouts out into the night with no regard for its owner’s attempts to quiet it. As it heads down the sidewalk, the dog draws my eyes along with it while memories of Nugget run through my mind.
The bittersweet longing in my heart fades when I notice a gray sedan parked on the street with a man sitting inside, illuminated only in the dim light of the streetlamp nearby. My gut clenches with a sense of wrongness. I watch as the man holds a camera up to his face and points it toward my building.
