Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1)

by J. L. Mac

  I made cookies! He knew it was me!

  The closer I drew to the apartment building, the more tension bunched in my shoulders. I let myself in and peeked around the corner to check the hall. I didn’t know why, but I felt him there before I saw him.

  The moment I saw him sitting in his wheelchair right outside his door, I felt angry, nervous and a little sad. He looked awful. I felt awful. We were a real motley crew.

  As if he’d felt my eyes on him, he sat up straight as I made my way in his direction.

  Dammit!

  “Hey! Wait! Flor, wait!” he pleaded as I breezed right past him with my gaze fixed on my apartment door.

  “Nope! Sorry. I’m on the no assholes bandwagon.” I heard a brief laugh from him, and it only angered me further.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not really on the gluten-free bandwagon,” he offered weakly as I dug for my keys.

  “Oh? Funny, because I am on the I don’t actually give a shit bandwagon.”

  “Ouch!” he cried out as I heard a big thud from beside me. I turned and my eyes bugged out of my head at the sight of him on the floor.

  “Oh crap!” I hurried back to where he’d fallen. “Hold on. Don’t move. I’m going to help you up. Bear your weight on me. Deep breath.” I hooked my arms beneath his and tried with great effort to lift Goliath from where he’d fallen. “Holy shit you’re heavy,” I grunted, pulling him up from the ground with my hands splayed wide across his back.

  He situated himself back into his wheelchair and looked into his brother’s apartment then down at his hands where a fresh scuff across his hand had split open. Deep red blood seeped from his banged up hand and I sighed, knowing that I was going to help him.

  “I’ll help you in,” I said grasping the handles on the back of his chair. He enfolded his hands, which were both quite busted up and allowed me to push him.

  I parked him in the middle of his brother’s living room and looked around for something to bandage his hands with. Noticing a little plastic tub of medical supplies, I grabbed it and came back to where he sat. I sat down on his couch and motioned for him to wheel himself closer to me.

  “How long do you have to have that thing on?” I asked grasping both his big hands. I placed his palms on both my knees like I was ready to give him a manicure and began ripping open a packet of gauze and a small bottle of saline.

  “A while,” he said with dismay. His hands were so warm. Even through my jeans, I could feel heat radiating off of him.

  I nodded my head and blotted up the blood across his knuckles, then poured sterile solution onto another piece of clean gauze and continued cleaning. I focused on the task at hand, but I could feel his intense eyes on me. I kept my head down and worked until his hands were clean and wrapped in fresh bandages just around his knuckles.

  “I added an extra layer for padding,” I said, finally looking up at him. His eyes were fixed on me as though he were studying my every move. Against my will, butterflies sprang up in my belly.

  “Um. Okay, well, what else do you want? I mean, need. What do you need? Do you need something? I don’t assume you were sitting in the hall for nothing.” I swallowed hard and looked away to the wall of wide bookshelves holding countless vinyl albums, hoping that he hadn’t caught the blush on my cheeks.

  “I wanted to see you. I knocked on your door but no one answered.”

  “I was at the bookstore, and Matt is with Cal.”

  “Calvin and Matt?”

  “Mhmm.” I pursed my lips and nodded. “So, I guess I’ll go make sure no one has stolen my purse off the floor in the hall.

  “Flor, I’ve been eating apples and oranges for two days. I don’t want to bug you or anyone else for that matter,” he said shaking his head. How did he make this wounded man thing look so good? “Some food would be nice.” He smiled ruefully and it about killed me. But then there was that broken record…

  “I tried giving you cookies,” I shot back, my eyes slightly narrowed on him.

  “Right. I’m sorry. You caught me on a bad day.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Right. Okay. Food. I can do food. What do you like?” I pried his hands from my knees and carefully stood up. I stepped to the side and waited for a response.

  “Um, I’m not sure what’s in there but I don’t think there’s much. My assistant hasn’t been by with food yet. He’s pretty swamped. With me not working, he’s had to cover everything on his own.”

  “I have food at my place. Do you like bacon?”

  “I have a penis, so yeah, I like bacon.”

  Don’t I know it.

  My cheeks burned as I nodded and looked toward his kitchen. “Be right back.” I hurried for the door and paused in the corridor to take a deep breath.

  Why in the hell am I helping him?

  I shook my head as I let myself into my apartment and went straight to the kitchen and began gathering what I needed to make BLTs. If he thought I’d spend a bunch of my time in my kitchen making something special, he was wrong. I’d already done that once for him and it backfired.

  Sandwiches with a side of cold shoulder was what he was getting from me, and that was it. He still hadn’t explained anything to me, and the fact that he was avoiding what needed to be done bothered me. Staying away from him was the safest thing to do. As tempting as he was, I would not get involved with a married man. Not again, anyway.

  Once I had his food prepared, I knocked at his door, feeling a little nervous.

  “Come in!” I let myself in and found him thumbing through a DVD case in the living room.

  “You have quite the collection. It would be a bit expensive, but you should really go the digital copy route. Matt and I have been slowly transitioning from actual discs to digital copies we buy online. Saves space and it’s so much more convenient,” I said, noting the thick binder of discs on his lap.

  “Oh, these are my brother’s. One of his prized possessions,” he said, holding it up like a trophy and silencing me. I knew that look. Those DVDs were important. I hadn’t figured out why yet, but his brother’s absence was beginning to paint the picture for me.

  I sat his plate down on the coffee table beside him and nodded. “May I?”

  “Sure.” Goliath handed me the heavy binder and I sat down to thumb through his brother’s prized possession.

  “Wow, he has everything. Varied,” I praised. “Westerns, black and whites, musicals?” I laughed thinking of watching The Sound of Music with Matt.

  “Yeah. Tommy has always been the movie guru of the family. He was, that is,” he confessed and my heart stopped cold. I looked up at Graham who was picking crust from the edges of his bread.

  Picture painted. He lost his brother.

  “Well, I love his collection,” I offered as condolence.

  “Me too.” The sad look in his eyes made me want to hug him but it wasn’t my place to comfort him. That was a job for his wife. He took a huge bite of sandwich and moaned appreciatively. I was flattered in spite of my back and forth agitation with this enigma of a man.

  “Good?”

  “You have no idea,” he muffled out with a mouth full of food. “Where’s yours?”

  “Oh. I left my plate on my counter. I should actually go eat. Um, if that’s all you need, I’ll get going.”

  “Don’t go.”

  “Graham, I’m not sure what’s going on with your wife, and really it’s none of my business, but I can’t—”

  “My wife?” He choked and coughed. “Wait. You think I’m married?” His chocolate eyes were wide, his brows rose.

  “Uh, you aren’t married?”

  “God! No! No. Why would you think I was married?”

  “I… The woman at your club, the same one I saw at a restaurant last Friday night. She told me to stay away from you, said to stay out of her clubs too. She practically rubbed that rock of hers in my eye.”

  “Jesus Christ, Halley,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair, and I instan
tly bristled.

  “My name is not Halley.”

  “No, that’s her name.”

  “I don’t appreciate being lied to. My Google search said her name is Margaret Stone, so you can cut the crap,” I snapped.

  “True. Margaret Gail Stone, also known, by me, as Halley, also known as my little sister. Most certainly not my wife. She’s married, but she chose to keep her maiden name.” Seemingly pleased with himself, he picked up his abandoned sandwich and mowed down another large bite. “This is really amazing, thank you,” he muffled.

  My mouth had gone dry.

  What in the actual fuck just happened?

  “Why do you call her Halley if her name is really Margaret?” I folded my arms over my chest.

  “Because she can be as cold as ice and she’s the embodiment of death and destruction, just like the comet. Inside joke between me and my brother, Tommy.” His eyes twinkled, the dimples in his cheeks popped up and my heart leapt.

  Damn that twinkle all to hell!

  “Well, why in the world did she…attack me like that?”

  “I’ll make you a deal. Go grab your plate, eat with me and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  “I’ll make you a deal. Tell me what I want to know and I won’t march my butt out of here with the rest of your dinner.”

  “You’d have to take it from me first.”

  “Fine. I’ll eat. You explain and we can be done with all of this.”

  The predatory glimmer in his dark eyes that I recognized from our previous encounters shone brightly and my stomach was reduced to a flock of butterflies. He wasn’t done with me, and I was fooling myself to think otherwise.

  Based on the way he had been tearing through the sandwich and chips I had given him, I figured it was best to bring the remaining bacon with me when I returned to his brother’s apartment. He smiled a damaging boyish smile when I handed over the plate of bacon.

  “Thank you.”

  “Welcome. Now, who is Halley slash Margaret and why does she hate me?” I kept my eyes down. It was easier to stay focused when I wasn’t staring right at the obscenely handsome Goliath.

  “I told you, she is my younger sister. She’s also my business partner and she’s a massive hemorrhoid on my ass. Always has been.”

  “Okay. Noted. Thanks for the visual, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And why exactly does she despise me?”

  “Well, it’s hard to say.”

  “Try.”

  “Okay, okay.” He held his hands up in surrender and seemed to ponder what he was going to say next. “She thinks that me getting involved with anyone that I’ve met in one of the clubs is a bad idea for me. Thinks it’s tacky. Bad for business. Risky,” he mumbled quietly then took a bite of bacon.

  “But we met in an art gallery, so technically—”

  “Exactly. And aren’t we…what was it you said? Very good friends?”

  “Yes. That’s what I said.” I took a bite of my sandwich and seized the opportunity to think. “You shouldn’t have let her act like that.”

  “Flor, I’m sorry. I really am. I wanted to explain and apologize. I wanted to see you again…”

  “And here I am,” I said biting the inside of my bottom lip.

  “You are.” He smiled that charming smile and my resolution to remain guarded, faltered, tripped, stumbled and fell flat on its face. “Can we start over?”

  “I don’t know.” It was true. I didn’t know. I was still attracted to him but the sudden influx of new information had my head spinning. A niggling feeling in my chest had me thinking that what he’d said wasn’t all there was to his story. I had that apprehensive feeling that made a person feel as though they were being lied to. Was I being paranoid or was there more? I was still attracted to him. I was also still angry over the fact that he knew it was me next door and he sat on that information. Who was he to decide what information I was privy to?

  He’d been the perfect candidate for a standard abandoning hookup, but this felt very close to home—too close to home—as in right next door! This made things far more complicated than I could manage to sort out right then and there. “I—”

  “It’s okay. Thank you for feeding me. Maybe I’ll repay the favor sometime?”

  “Okay. I better get home. I have to work.”

  “I promise to be quiet.”

  “Thank you.” I laughed despite the heaviness that had blanketed our evening. “I write, and noisy neighbors aren’t exactly helpful.”

  “What do you write?” He looked at me inquisitively.

  I sighed heavily. “I’m working on a series of children’s books. I hope to publish them one day, but I have to finish them first.”

  “I’ll buy the first copy.” He nodded confidently as if there were no question about whether or not I’d be successful. He never could have known just how much what he said had meant to me.

  In that moment, a tiny portion of my heart was lost to me. I felt the subtle snap in my chest as it broke free and fluttered off of its own free will to live with the Goliath next door. I can’t say that I wanted it back.

  “Goodnight.” I showed myself out, wondering if and when I’d ever let myself come back in.

  Graham

  Huge Words

  I had the chance. The opportunity was right there. All I had to do was get it over with. But I backed down. Tonight was different though. I needed to tell her. I had to tell her. There was no way around it.

  Graham Stone: Come over? I want to talk to you.

  Florence Randall: Can’t. Have to video chat with my mom.

  Graham Stone: After?

  Florence Randall: I’m probably going to work for a while afterward.

  Graham Stone: Work here.

  Florence Randall: I can’t even work from over here because of your noise. What makes you think I’d be able to work sitting in the same room?

  Graham Stone: I’ll be quiet. Promise.

  Graham Stone: Please? I can give you some suggestions for your book.

  Florence Randall: …

  Florence Randall: Fine. You’re persistent, if nothing else.

  Time dragged slowly by. I wheeled around Tommy’s apartment wondering exactly how long it took to video chat with one’s mother. What in the hell could they be talking about for over two hours?

  With time to burn, I sent Martin a quick text to check in with him.

  Me: Hey, brother. Just checking in. All’s well here.

  It was customary for us to send a text at least once a day even if we were busy. Accountability to someone other than yourself was central to sobriety. I stayed accountable to Martin and he stayed accountable to me, and I think we both slept better at night for it.

  I channel surfed for something decent to watch and ended up on a cooking show that had my stomach growling in a matter of minutes. It did nothing for my mood, which had been on a slow decline anyway. Cabin fever had settled in, the pin sites on my leg were killing me; I had a serious craving to bury my cock in my beautiful neighbor, the same neighbor who had gone from hot for me to frigid and disinterested as far as I could tell. I still wanted to strangle Halley for her bullshit.

  I sat there feeling sorry for myself for some time. My phone rang within the pocket of my shorts and I fished it out.

  Flor.

  “Hello?”

  “Still want me to come over?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Are you hungry? Need anything?” The all-business tone to her voice was depressing. I wasn’t sure how I’d win her interest, but I had to try.

  “Have you had anything to eat? I could order something for us.”

  “I’m not hungry but if you are hungry, go for it.”

  “Flor?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just come over.”

  “Okay.” She sighed and her voice took on something that sounded a little like sympathy. I didn’t usually care much for sympathy from others but
in this case, I’d take it. It was better than that remote, disinterested tone she was putting off. I didn’t like it and I’d hoped it wasn’t genuine. I’d hoped that somewhere in there was the feisty, sexy, beautiful woman who had offered herself to me inside the elevator at my club.

  I left the door unlocked for her, so when she knocked, I shouted for her to come in. It was easier than trying to answer the door, which required more maneuvering than I felt up to doing. It seemed like I scuffed my hands nonstop in Tommy’s small apartment, and though I preferred being here right now, I was beginning to miss the space that my place offered.

  Leaving for my apartment wasn’t an option, though. Flor was here. Right next door. She was my Aphrodite and small space or not, I was staying put. I knew that if I left, I had little to no chance of convincing her to spend time with me at my place.

  When she came in wearing her jean shorts, sandals, and tank top, my mouth watered to taste her on my lips again. Memories from the night in the elevator were a sore spot. You’d think they would be something I enjoyed looking back on—and if things had gone well, I would have—but things hadn’t gone well at all. Those memories were giving me a serious case of blue balls and relief wasn’t in sight.

  “Hey,” she’d said, switching her weight from one foot to the other.

  “Hey. Come in. Sit down. I was just about to order some food.”

  “Oh. I actually brought you something. I just tossed it together real quick,” she said as she began digging in her leather shoulder bag. She produced a paper sack and stepped forward to hand it to me. “It’s nothing special or anything.” The scent of her perfume, soft, sweet and subtle, hit my nose and I breathed it in for fear it wouldn’t last as soon as she stepped away from me.

  I opened the paper bag to find a whole pile of thick cut potato wedges covered in bacon and cheese nestled in a bed of foil. They were still hot. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. She was acting disinterested but she’d brought me something good to eat, something she’d made herself. That had to mean something, right?