I’ve been here before.
I know how it ends.
With her breaking my heart.
With me in pieces.
Chapter Five
Vince
Since I wordlessly fled Carly’s apartment the other night, I haven’t seen her. I’ve worked longer shifts these few days so I worried I might run into her on my way in or out of my apartment, but I’ve managed to avoid her.
And I am avoiding her. I mean, usually she shows up on my doorstep so it’s not like I seek her out anyway, but I feel like it’s going to be weird when I see her again and I don’t wanna deal with it. This is exactly why I don’t fuck pretty neighbors. I didn’t even fuck this one and I still might have to deal with the weirdness. Damn sure got the short end of that deal.
I’ve been home for about an hour Saturday night when the knocking starts.
I don’t even bother to greet her, I just lean an arm against my doorframe and lift an expectant eyebrow.
She grins at me, as bright and cheerful as always. “Hey, neighbor. What are you up to tonight?”
“Research.”
She schools her pretty features into a covert expression. “For your criminal mastermind degree? Awesome. Need help? I could be your sidekick. I’m really good at doing research. Do you know why pound cake is called pound cake? Someone asked me once, so I do. Wanna know why?”
“Nope.”
“But it’ll back-up my research assistant credentials,” she says, like I’m being unreasonable.
“It’s an unpaid position,” I inform her.
“Can I wear a lab coat? I think I’d look really hot in a lab coat. High heels. Red lipstick. Maybe nothing underneath.”
Motherfucker.
She flashes me a grin and a casual wink, then moves on. “Anyway, I ordered a pizza that’s way too big for me to consume by myself, so I thought I’d see if maybe you could help a girl out?”
“I’m always helping you out,” I tell her.
“I know,” she says, swaying forward and playfully touching my arm. Her gesture is obviously flirty, and I have no idea whether or not to take it seriously. She doesn’t make me decide though, she just moves right along. “You’re like my own personal Superman. I get in a bind, there you are to save me. Too bad we didn’t know each other for Halloween. I could’ve been your Lois Lane.”
“I’m not looking for a Lois Lane,” I state. “And trust me, I’m the furthest thing from Superman.”
“Maybe you’re red kryptonite Clark. Did you ever watch Smallville? It’s this old Superman show I used to watch with Laurel, and oh, my god, I had such a crush on red kryptonite Clark. I guess the red kryptonite was a bad influence, it made him get all moody and sexy and he broke laws and went all bad boy—but with super powers. Laurel was like ‘he’s such a jerk’ and I was like ‘If I could give a fictional man my phone number, I swear to God.’ Regular Superman is a bit too good for me, but you’re a secret criminal, so you’re perfectly balanced. Save my kitten from a tree during the day, pick my lock and break into my bedroom after dark—swoon.”
This girl is fucking crazy.
Grinning, she nods toward her apartment. “Anyway, your place or mine? Where are we plotting?”
“Neither. I wasn’t joking; I really have stuff to do tonight.”
“Research stuff?” she questions.
“Yes.”
“I’m really good at researching. Can I help?”
“No. You’ve distracted me enough; I need to get back to my own shit.”
“What kind of shit? I’m really bored. I still haven’t found a job so I have a lot of time on my hands. You’d be doing me a favor.”
“Nothing you can help with.”
“Well, then why don’t you take an hour off and come eat pizza with me? It’s free food and good company; just say yes.”
I need to tell her no. I need to make her leave—and I should be mean to her so she doesn’t come back.
Thing is, I just don’t want to.
That’s why I should, though.
“Why?” I ask.
Cocking her head to the side as if confused, she asks, “Why what?”
“Why do you want me to come over?”
Blinking a couple of times, she drawls, “Because pizza. We covered this already.”
Looking down at the dirty, splintered threshold, I decide to offer up a little more forthright honesty than I typically offer girls these days. I’m not sure why it’s different with her. I’m not sure why I feel like I owe this girl—who I’ve never so much as kissed—any kind of explanation when I’ve given far less consideration to girls I’ve actually fucked.
“I don’t know what you’re looking to get out of this,” I tell her. “But I don’t have anything to offer you.”
I expect a cheeky comeback but she just watches me, waiting to see if I’ll go on. Kinda makes me feel like I should.