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MACI
I’d successfully avoided speaking to Connor for two days. Okay, successfully avoided might not be the right words. More like: he wasn’t talking to me, and I couldn’t figure out what to say whenever I saw him.
When I’d gotten home from having breakfast with Amber and then going to see my mom for a few hours—since I’d told Connor I was hanging out with Bryce—he’d been locking up his apartment and turning to leave just as I reached my door.
He’d stopped to just stare at me. His intensity filling the space between us for those long seconds before he’d slowly closed the distance between us, those bright blue eyes never once releasing me from their hold. But just when I’d started apologizing again for whatever I might have done the night before, he’d grabbed my left hand, glanced at it, then dropped it before walking away.
I’d all but fallen against my door once he’d disappeared out of sight, struggling to catch my breath from one of the more powerful interactions I’d ever had with him. And there hadn’t even been any words.
Since then, we’d crossed paths a few more times as we’d come and gone. Each time, the looks had gotten longer, and the air had gotten thicker. But I was still afraid to learn what I’d done while drunk, so I was taking the easy way out by not talking to him.
At least I’d gone back to work yesterday, so I now had a legitimate excuse for not being able to talk to him.
My alarm went off again, and I groaned as I tapped the screen of my phone to shut it off. I’d already snoozed it twice to stay in the dream I’d been having of the man next door, but I needed to get to work before my brothers came looking for my “boyfriend.”
With a heavy exhale, I practically fell out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. A pathetic sort of longing building in my chest to go back to sleep so I could be in a place where I could stare at those blue eyes whenever I wanted. Where I could imagine the way his lips felt against my neck as he pressed me against a wall.
I wonder if I can get away with saying I have cramps so I don’t have to go to—wait, I did that last—
“God—holy shit! What the fuck?” I screamed as I jumped away from my toilet when it popped like gunfire beneath me. Thank God I hadn’t started peeing yet, but, seriously...what the hell just happened?
I cautiously reached for the toilet seat as if the inanimate object might jump out and bite me. With a determined huff, I grabbed it and pulled it up.
“Connor,” I screeched and ripped the bubble wrap off the toilet bowl. “You son of a bitch, I know you can hear me!”
Pulling up my underwear and sweats, I stormed through my apartment, unlocked my door, and flung it open. A cry tore from my chest, and I instinctively jumped away as a water-filled trash can fell into my apartment. Mouth and eyes wide open, I stared at the water covering my entryway and living room for long seconds before my mind started working again. I took off for my bathroom, nearly falling into the splits multiple times from running on the wet hardwood.
“I will kill you for this,” I yelled, knowing full well he could hear me. “You flooded my apartment.”
Grabbing all the towels in the bathroom and linen closet, I ran back to my living room and started throwing towels everywhere as I continued screaming at, and cursing, Connor Green.
Not five minutes into trying to dry everything so there wouldn’t be permanent damage, two different neighbors stopped by to see what the fuss was about and graciously lent me piles of their towels too.
“What happened?” the older guy who lived across the hall from Connor asked. “And what’s with the trash can?”
I gritted my teeth as I gathered soaked towels to take them to my laundry room. “All I’m saying is, if you hear my neighbor yelling tonight...just know he’s getting what he deserves.”
The man’s head shifted back in surprise before he resumed trying to pat dry my throw rug. “The guy across from me?”
“The very one.”
“You’re saying this is because of him?” he asked doubtfully, his head shaking. “There’s no way. That’s the quietest neighbor I’ve ever had, and isn’t he law enforcement?”
All emotion drained from my face as I stared at him. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean for me right now?” I asked irritably. “I grew up with him. Pranks are a phase we go through every now and then.”
“Just doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.”
And I kind of wanted him to leave if he was going to side with Connor, but he was helping me dry my apartment. So, instead of responding again in a way that was sure to come out shitty, I walked to the laundry room and threw the towels into the washer.
Once we were done, I went to Connor’s apartment but wasn’t surprised to find him gone. With how long he’d been off, he was probably at work. But as I stepped back into my own apartment, I realized I was smiling.
Part of me was happy there’d been a prank at all—a very, very small part—because it meant the weirdness between us was hopefully ending. But I was absolutely livid he’d almost given me a heart attack before flooding my apartment, and there would be hell to pay for it.
Shit just got real, Connor Green. I’m going to enjoy pissing you off.
* * *
CONNOR
