Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1) (9 page)

She flung one arm my direction, clearly giving him an earful about me, and how in the hell could I blame her? She smiled an evil sort of grin and made a move to walk back my direction. Before she could get very far, he lunged and grabbed her arm, whirling her back to him. His face was only inches from hers. His jaw tight. His body tense. I had no way to know what he’d said, but the brunette shrugged and crossed her thin arms once again.

“Oh my god,” I whispered to myself. I glanced down at myself and straightened my slightly rumpled clothes. Shame rolled over me like a tsunami. I wanted no part of this. At all.

I glanced back at the elevator and made my decision.

I ran.

Graham

Feel Again

I
could have strangled Halley for fucking my night up. From the time she was shitting herself, dragging her baby dolls on the ground and sneaking to my room at night when she’d have a bad dream, she’d been screwing my life up every chance she got.

Damn her for messing things up for me tonight! Flor. What a beauty. A beauty that had been haunting me since the moment I first laid eyes on her. Like an unsubdued impulse, visions of her beneath me terrorized me day and night. The ache in my gut to have her seemed only to grow exponentially by the day, and I had given serious consideration to just finding someone to mollify the ache for a night or two. I couldn’t go on like this. I needed to have her or forget her, and it needed to happen quick or I’d fucking combust…or drink, and I’d rather end up in smithereens than disappoint the people who loved me one more time.

The phone rang three times before Martin’s voice came over the line.

“Something tells me this is no good.”

“I’m going to kill Halley,” I confessed to my mentor and the only man capable of talking me down from anything, especially drinking.

“Are you ever going to stop calling her Halley?”

“Why would I? That’s the exact name my folks should have given her. Halley, an icy-cold bitch orbiting in space who could devastate and destroy with her ice and dirt if she chose to.”

“When did you name your only sister after a comet, exactly?”

“Openly? Right before rehab. The first time, but me and Tommy shared that little inside joke for years.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in that way that he always did when he was encouraging me to think about whatever was just said. “So what did Margaret do now to make you threaten death?”

“There’s this woman,” I confessed, knowing full well that Martin would grab hold of that confession and start about his gentle lecturing.

“Go on,” he prompted, and I flopped down in my office chair to explain myself.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Where did you meet?”

“Indigo.”

“Graham, bud, I hate to say it, but that doesn’t sound like the beginnings of a positive relationship for a recovering alcoholic.”

“I know, but she just seemed different.”

“Aren’t they all?”

“All right, all right. I get it, but the point is, I really wanted to hang out with this woman tonight. Things seemed to be going in a really good direction and in walks Halley in all her ice cold death and destruction. She ran her off.”

“Maybe Margaret is scared that you’ll fall off the wagon.”

“She can’t act like that because she thinks I’ll drink again. She’s an idiot if she thinks that her methods are effective because right now, after her stunt, I could use a drink in the worst way.”

“You’d hate yourself tomorrow. Trust me, bud.”

“I know that, but…damn!”

“Spend an hour or two in the gym, give it hell. You’ll feel better afterward and if you don’t…” he lead.

“Call, come over, just don’t cave,” I recited our little mantra on a sigh, but I did already feel better. The urge to grab a bottle, drain it, and then use it to bludgeon my sister with it wasn’t as all-consuming as it was before my talk with Martin.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are we still on for tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, bud.”

“Night, brother.”

“Gym,” he ordered.

“I am. I am.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Graham.”

“’Night, Martin.”

Sweat drenched for reasons other than what I had hoped for tonight, I dragged myself to my bathroom, peeling off my clothes as I went. I flipped on the water and let the spray slip down my body. My legs and arms felt like jelly, but it was a good thing because I had no energy left to feel sexually frustrated over my ruined night with Flor.

She had been so pliable in my arms. Fuck! Her body, small as she was against me, fit perfectly. I looked down at my cock that, in spite of physical exhaustion, had decided to perk right up as thoughts of Flor filled my mind.

A disgruntled growl clawed up my throat, making me want to go right back to my gym and work my frustrations out all over again.

I stood under the water and considered texting or calling her, but I thought it better to explain and apologize face to face. I’d just need her to agree to meet me again, which I knew would likely be pretty damn difficult given the way she looked at me from inside the elevator. Disappointment never tasted so foul.

Once my muscles were relaxed, my body washed and my hair shampooed, I reluctantly pulled myself from the safe haven of my shower and went right for my phone with a towel wrapped around my waist.

Goliath: I’m sorry about tonight. Can I take you to lunch tomorrow? I need to explain.

I went about getting ready for bed and pretended to not check my phone every few minutes. Not a word from Flor. Her message beneath my feeble text said she received it and read it, which only made the bite of disappointment a little sharper since she chose not to respond.

I climbed into bed, resigned to the fact that I’d try again tomorrow and if that failed, I’d just find her and make her hear me out. The last thing I needed was an enchanting woman like her thinking that I was some kind of asshole. That would haunt me in a way that would make having a drink more tempting than I cared to admit. I’ve earned that title in the past, but not this time. This was all Halley’s fault and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to set the record straight. If she wanted nothing to do with me once I apologized and explained my sister’s bullshit, then so be it. At least I’d know that I tried.

My alarm came early—too early. In spite of my body’s protestations, I dragged myself through my morning routine. Coffee, shower, dress, emails, feed the fish…

All the while, Flor was on my mind. I had to explain. It was a Sunday and I was sure she would be off work. I wondered what she was doing right then. I wondered where she lived. If I knew her address, I’d send flowers and chocolate and then myself right to her door.

I was supposed to meet Martin for an AA meeting then go grab lunch, but I needed to take a drive first. I’d go back to the gym, but my muscles were still recovering from the damage I’d done the night before. I snagged my helmet, keys, and riding jacket from the closet and made my way to the parking garage. A ride on my Ducati was in order. It was always great therapy, and I needed to clear my head and let anger toward Halley roll off my back.

The thing about riding a motorcycle is you’re forced to pay attention to just riding. The weather, the roads, the traffic… There isn’t any room for worries or doubts, anxiety or temptation. There was only me and the road and the machinery carrying me from point A to point B.

As much as I would have liked to believe I was focused on just the road, that wasn’t entirely true. There was still a small segment of my mind bent on anger toward Halley and a slightly bigger segment bent on lusting after a gorgeous woman who I was insanely attracted to—the same woman who also walked out on me the night before. The hurt in her eyes had made me feel so small.

Traffic was light, the weather wasn’t quite suffocating yet, and I shifted gears, propelling myself down the road faster. My bike ate up the pavement beneath me and I breathed the city air deeply. It felt good. It was a great distraction from those two segments of my mind that refused to go away.

I vaguely heard the squeal of tires, the screech of metal, and the scent of scorched plastic and leaking fluid from an engine. I tried desperately to open my eyes, to see, but I couldn’t or if I did, the blood running down my face cloaked the world around me. My body went limp and I waited. For what? I didn’t know. All I knew was my ears buzzed, my heart was pounding, and sticky heat was dripping down my face and into one ear. People were yelling, though I couldn’t make out what was being said, and behind my eyes all I saw was a petite brunette with flecks of red in her hair, mesmerizing gray eyes, and lips that I could still feel against my own—lips that I wanted to feel again.

Flor

Impromptu Dinner Invitation

I
t was Friday and I’d taken the day off. I had taken the time off to work on illustrations. I never took a day off. Ever! But I figured if I was going to use any of my paid time off, I’d better do it while I could.

The landscape of the magazine was being morphed, wind swept into something new and my gut told me that my time there was limited.

I told Chris, the boss lady at Social She, that I needed the long weekend to work on my books, but in truth, I needed a break. Sitting in the office felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time Chris’s head popped out of her office door, my impulse was to duck under my desk. I didn’t think I was alone in that feeling. I watched my coworkers scurry around, staying busy because lingering meant worrying. It was awful.

It certainly didn’t help that I fought back and forth with myself about texting Graham back. I last heard from him on Saturday night after the disaster at Four-19. Nearly a week had passed and I still felt drawn to call him. He’d apologized and my heart squeezed, but I was still fighting the dirty feeling that getting involved with a married man had created. A hot shower wasn’t enough to wash that away. It also wasn’t enough to wash away how much I still wanted him.

But there it was. He was married. The way the tall brunette in expensive clothes had absently (or maybe not so absently) worried her wedding ring about her left ring finger had painted a clear picture. She had made her point. She meant to warn me off, humiliate me for being there, and make me feel sorely lacking by comparison. She had succeeded. I felt very lacking.