Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1) (20 page)

I pepper sprayed him in the face, something that still made me cringe. I still had that niggling feeling that Graham wasn’t being completely forthcoming. It lingered in the back of my mind and I hoped, really hoped, that whatever it was, he’d decide to trust me enough to reveal whatever he was keeping from me. I just hoped that it wouldn’t be one of those catastrophic secrets like that he dressed like a woman on occasion. I half heartedly laughed to myself in the corner with my lunch.

My head was spinning. So much had happened and keeping up with it all was daunting. Keeping up with my feelings about it all was even more daunting. I truly loved seeing Graham, but I also truly hated the unbidden feeling that he was holding something back. For all I knew, he was holding a lot back.

A selfish little part of me wanted to go on ignoring that niggling feeling and soak in everything that seemed to be developing between us. All my adult life, I’d been cautious with my heart without even truly realizing it. I had my share of relationships but they were short term. Even if the guy was great I somehow managed to run him off before things had an opportunity to flourish, and if the guy didn’t run, I did. That block feature on social media was handy and I used it. I felt that Graham wouldn’t make me regret dropping my guard a little. I couldn’t imagine him doing anything that would hurt me. Then again, a small but persuasive voice deep inside warned that if Graham Stone, my Goliath, turned out to be a gargoyle, I would never recover from it.

I glanced at the time on my phone and noted that I still had twenty minutes before I needed to be back at work. I opened Facebook and scrolled through my messages. I found Graham’s message and smiled at what he had typed the last time he’d messaged me.

Graham Stone:
For the record, this is Graham Stone, your neighbor, your “Goliath.”

I wondered what he was doing in his brother’s apartment right then. I wondered if he had eaten anything for lunch.

Florence Randall: Hi.

Graham Stone: Hi, beautiful.

Florence Randall: Have you had anything to eat?

Graham Stone: Yes. Con came by with lunch and a pile of work that I fear is going to keep stacking up.

Florence Randall: Feeling okay today? Pain?

Graham Stone: My leg hurts a little, but I’ll be fine.

Florence Randall: You have prescription pain killers in the pharmacy bag that Conrad brought over. I think it’s in the bathroom.

Graham Stone: I’m fine. Really.

Florence Randall: Okay. Would you like anything special for dinner tonight? I can grab what I need from the store after work.

Graham Stone: The only thing I want for dinner isn’t in some grocery store.

Florence Randall: And what is it that you want?

Graham Randall: You. Every bit. Every morsel.

Florence Randall: I’ll see what I can do. ;) Gotta run. See you tonight.

Teasing him gave me a little trill of excitement. I smiled like an idiot as I made my way down the sidewalk, back to Social She. I counted the minutes until the proverbial whistle blew and I got out of there.

I walked right past his door and got cleaned up and changed before going over to see him. I stood in the kitchen that I shared with Matt and wondered what to make for dinner that night.

Matt came through the door just as I was dumping a box of pasta into a pot of boiling water.

“Hey!”

“Hey to you too, stranger!”

“Me? How about you? And for fuck’s sake please update me on what’s going on with that yummy neighbor of ours.”

“Hands off, sir!”

Matt raised his hands like he’d touched something hot and smiled. “You are
so
hooking up with him.” He shook his head.

“What?” I squeaked. “I am not.”

“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, doll face.”

“You’re ridiculous. Even if I did want to roll around with him, I can’t—or I shouldn’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because he offered me a job. He needs help while he recovers, and it feels a little like charity, but it’s way better than working for my dad and…he has an idea for this slump I’m in with the books.” I stopped working and looked up at Matt who motioned his hand for me to get on with it.

I hurried to my bag and pulled out the list Graham had given me. Matt looked at it quizzically. “What’s this?”

“Goliath over there had a point. He said that I can’t write the series because I skipped my childhood. You know how my mom was.”

Matt bugged his eyes in that
I know
way.

“So, he made this list of stuff that children do. You know, mischief and such. He thinks that if I relive my childhood, the one I didn’t really have, I’ll connect with the books. What do you think?”

“Where’s the girl stuff?”

“What?”

“It’s a fab idea, babe, but there is no girl stuff here,” he said, flipping the note over then back again. I looked at him blankly, waiting for him to spell it out for me. “Oh my god! You
know
, manicures, pedicures, sleepovers, chick flick marathon, tea parties… girl stuff.” He shrugged as if it was all so simple and I was being dense.

I hummed, thinking that Matt had a point. “So I’ll add girl stuff. What do you think though?”

“I think it’s pretty damn genius. Can’t hurt, right? It should be fun at the very least.” He handed the list back to me and I stuffed it into my back pocket.

“I hope so,” I breathed as I tossed a baguette in the oven.

“What about the job? Sounds easy enough and it would keep you from worrying about work while you get the books wrapped up.” He raised his brows and cocked his head slightly as he went over the pros and cons of Graham’s proposition.

“I know.” I sighed. I tapped a wooden spoon against the saucepot and turned to face Matt. “I think I’ll take him up on his offer, and I’m really hoping I don’t end up regretting it.”

“You won’t. It will all be fine and you’ll be a published author in no time!” Matt pecked me on my cheek and headed toward his bedroom to call Cal, no doubt.

I worked efficiently, preparing spaghetti carbonara for dinner, only checking my phone a few times. I needed to hurry if I planned on having dinner at a decent hour. My phone chimed and my tablet dinged from somewhere in my bedroom. Based on the sound of the chime I knew it had to be a new message.

Facebook.

I opened my messages to see a new one from Graham.

Graham Stone: So, hypothetically speaking, of course, if I sent you a “dick pic,” should I expect to get pepper sprayed. Again?

As much as I would have liked to just ignore his childish message, I couldn’t. I laughed. Heartily. In spite of my back and forth frustration and fascination with him, my fingers went to work, typing out my response.

Florence Randall: If it’s as weird looking as the last one someone sent me, then yes. Yes. Absolutely. I will pepper spray you until my finger cramps or the can runs dry, whichever comes first.

Graham Stone: Baby, I can assure you that my cock isn’t anything you’ll find repulsive. I predict it would have the opposite effect.

Florence Randall: Are we having computer foreplay right now?

Graham Stone: We are so having computer foreplay right now. Feels good, huh?

Florence Randall: Actually, my hands are cold from typing and I’m pretty sure I’m scorching the sauce.

Graham Stone: I could make this a whole lot better… Come over already.

Florence Randall: Graham.

Graham Stone: Flor. Come over.

Florence Randall: I can’t.

Graham Stone: Why not?

Florence Randall: It’s not a good idea. Dinner is on the stove.

Graham Stone: Good ideas are overrated. Come over and cross something else off your list. “Make out with the boy next door.” Unless you were interested in Mrs. Gardot.

Florence Randall: That was a self-serving addition to the list, Goliath. I’m onto you. How’d you know I have a thing for the elderly?

Graham Stone: Flor, come over or I’m coming to get you.

Florence Randall: Ha! You can’t. You’re crippled.

He didn’t say anything else for a minute or two and I got back to work on dinner. I really needed to hurry along. My empty stomach was growing impatient. I dipped a spoon down into the sauce and brought it to my lips, hoping that I got the seasoning just right.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I jumped, causing me to drop the spoon on the stovetop. It clanged and flung creamy carbonara sauce on the front of my blouse.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

My door jolted under his fist. I squeaked like a wounded rabbit and instinctively ran and hopped up on the couch in my living room.

“Go away!” I yelled.

“No!” Graham shouted.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Open up, Flor!”

“No!”

“Please?”

“No! Go home, Graham! I’ll be over in a bit!”

“Fine! Have it your way!”

Silence.

I jumped off the couch and tiptoed to the door, careful not to make too much noise. I peered out the peephole and saw that he’d left. The hall was clear. I would have been a big fat liar if I said I’d hoped he would have kept trying. For how long? I had no idea. But the young girl in me loved the idea of being chased, sought after by her crush. What woman wouldn’t?

I pressed my ear to the door to see if I could hear him clattering his way back into his own apartment. Nothing. I’d hoped he hadn’t fallen again. If he did, surely I’d hear it. He weighs as much as a Prius. I stood still for a moment considering a whole host of terrible things that could happen.

I unbolted the door and swung it open, ready to save the day if necessary. It wasn’t necessary. Graham wheeled toward me fast, swept his arms out wide, giving me no place to go, and I landed roughly in his lap.

“Gah! Dammit, you’re an ogre!”

“Oh, you know you loved
Shrek
. Seems to me, you laughed throughout the entire movie.”

“I liked the donkey better.” I glowered. “Let me up.”

“No. Kiss me.”

“I will not! Do all the ladies fall for this shit?”

“Don’t know. I’ve never spent this much time with any of them.”

“Oh. Well if that was meant to make me feel better, it doesn’t. It only means you’re a major man-whore.”

“Used to be, but as it were, I haven’t been laid in quite some time. None of that matters anyway because I’m seeing someone.”

“Since when?”

“A while.”

“Who?”

“Look in the mirror, baby. Because if you have any notion in that beautiful head of yours that you aren’t mine, you’d be wrong.” He tightened his arms around my waist and leaned forward, burying his nose in my hair.

“I’m no one’s, Graham,” I whispered without conviction, my eyes closed.

“Think so?” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

“That’s funny because your mouth says one thing but your eyes are screaming something else. Sorry, but you’re all mine, baby.”

“Graham, don’t say stuff like that. It isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny.”

“Graham… I don’t…” I stumbled over my words, not really sure what exactly to say. He was right. I knew he was right. I felt like I belonged to the big ogre and at the same time, I didn’t. Did I?

“Now, tell me you aren’t mine. Tell me that you don’t know the truth like I do.”

“I…”

“Exactly.” He smiled a boyish lopsided smile that made me want to kiss him right then and there but I didn’t. The sauce was going to burn.

Graham

Satisfaction

I
couldn’t resist teasing her. Winning a smile or a laugh from her had become my new favorite thing to do. That laugh, that smile, they were prized possessions, sacred in their own right.

I dug into the pasta she prepared and watched as she smoothed a rumpled piece of paper on the coffee table and wrote on it between bites of pasta.

“What are you doing?”

She scribbled something else on the paper, looked up at me and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I have decided to accept your challenge.” A lazy smile crept across my face.

“…but! I have some changes, additions to make,” she amended, holding one finger up.

“Like?” I scooped up a fork full of pasta and sighed as the flavors burst across my tongue.

I could get used to this.

“Well, after looking over this list, it occurred to Matt and me that these are all things boys do.”

“Not true.” I shrugged and shook my head. What was she getting at?

“Most of it is very boy-ish. I’m a female, Graham.”

“Don’t I know it.” I licked my lips and eyed her head to toe before taking another bite of my dinner.

“Stop it.” She laughed and threw her pen at me. “I’m serious.”

“Okay. Okay,” I conceded and put on a serious expression, one that meant business. I reluctantly set my fork down and gave her my undivided attention.