“Is that meant to turn me off?” I ask her, wrinkling my nose.
She laughs and says, “No, I guess not. So what’s the next move? Wait until he asks you out for a drink?” She laughs harder, then adds, “Should I warn him that you don’t like doing day dates?”
My cheeks heat as she pulls up a fact I’m not exactly proud about. For first dates, I’m a little picky. Sitting through a lunch with someone you just met can be awkward, as is trying to eat, chat, and look hot at the same time, so I prefer evening or night dates. It’s less pressure, and I can order tequila without looking like an alcoholic.
“Remember when that Dave guy asked you out for coffee on that dating app, and you freaked out and deleted the whole app?” she says, throwing her head back and laughing. “Oh God, that was hilarious.”
“That was the first date I was going to go on after Eric,” I say defensively. “Of course I freaked out! I’d never really dated anyone else.”
She stops laughing, trying to contain herself, but her twitching lip gives her away. “Yeah, but on the weekend before, we went to that male strip club and you licked that stripper’s abs.” She pauses for emphasis. “In public.”
I laugh with her this time, remembering the night she is referring to. “I blame it on the tequila.”
“You’re hilarious, Bree,” she says, wiping a tear that escapes her eye. “If creepy hot guy asks you out for a day date, what are you going to say? Dates involving alcohol only?”
“It sounds so bad when you say it like that,” I mutter under my breath. “And it’s not like I’m meeting a random guy from online. I’ve already met and spoken to him. And you’re acting like this is a done deal! There’s no way he’s going to ask me out. He barely talks to me.”
“We’ll see,” she says, then walks around the counter just as a group of people walk in.
There’s nothing wrong with needing a little liquid courage every now and again.
Chapter Four
I’m taking my dog for a walk down the block when I come to a standstill in front of a two-storey house. Two men are standing out the front by a truck, and one of them is very familiar. They both turn to look at me standing there like an idiot. Sylar doesn’t smile, but the man next to him does.
“And what do we have here?” I hear him say as he approaches me. “Hello, beautiful. How are you doing today?”
“Fine, thanks,” I say, taking in the man. He has the same colouring as Sylar, dark hair and blue eyes, but is very well put together, dressed in dark jeans and a shirt. His hair is short and styled and there is a little stubble on his cheeks, probably because he likes it that way, not because he’s been too lazy to shave.
“I’m Spencer,” he says, giving me a once-over. “And you are?”
“Bree,” I say, looking down at my pug. “And this is Snoop.”
“Snoop?” he asks, eyes going wide. He looks down at him, and I can tell he’s not very impressed by my companion, but I don’t really care. I rescued Snoop from the shelter, and if I hadn’t taken him in, he would have been put down.
“Yeah,” I say, flashing him a small smile. “I’m just taking him for a short walk. I guess I’ll… uhh... nice to meet you.”
They literally live down the road from me. How did I not know this? I saw the For Sale sign on this property about a month or so back, but I didn’t know that it sold. The people who lived here prior were always travelling and hardly here.
I look behind him to Sylar, who is standing there like a statue, watching the interaction between me and Spencer. “Nice to see you, Sylar.”
“Wait,” Spencer says, looking between the two of us. “You know her? You’ve been hiding this beauty away, brother?”
Brother?
Yeah, I guess I can see that. Sylar is taller and more built than Spencer, but the features are somewhat similar. The difference is Sylar seems to want to hide his, while Spencer flaunts them. Spencer’s eyes are also not as blue at Sylar’s.
“Brothers, hey?” I say, looking from one to the other. “Who is the oldest?”
Spencer nods to Sylar. “He is. How do you two know each other exactly?”
“Well, we don’t.” I clear my throat. “I mean not really. Sylar comes into my café to get coffee most mornings.”
I’m feeling really awkward, mainly because Sylar hasn’t said a thing to me. It’s like he really doesn’t want me here right now, but I have no idea why. I wish I hadn’t taken this route today. I should have gone the other way. Change sucks.
“I see,” Spencer murmurs, an undefinable emotion flashing in his eyes. “Interesting.”
“I better get going,” I say, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. “Nice to meet you, Spencer.”
“You too, Bree,” he says, smiling warmly. “I’m sure we’ll run into you and Snoop again.”
He makes it sound like a promise. I wave awkwardly then beeline it out of there, walking down to the bottom of the street at a quick pace. It’s only when I get to the bottom I realize that I have to walk back past their house, because the street is a cul-de-sac and I can’t get through without jumping someone’s fence, which honestly sounds like the better option.
Shit.
I don’t think Snoop would enjoy that much. I’d have to carry his chubby self because there’s no way he can do any kind of jumping. Maybe they’ve gone inside now, and I can quickly jog by without having to face either man again.
How does this shit happen to me?
I walk extra slowly around the cul-de-sac then back up the street, staying on the opposite side of the street, next to the bush. As their house approaches, I chance a glance out of the corner of my eye, and… they are still there. Staring at me. Oh my God, they probably think I’m an idiot. Do I wave? Do I pretend I can’t see them? What is less awkward? I end up going for the second awkward wave of the day, because I don’t want to be rude. They know I can see them; there’s no point pretending otherwise. I can see Sylar just watching me, arms crossed, while Spencer waves back. I smile and look down in front of me, quickening my pace, if that’s even possible, making poor Snoop walking faster than he ever has in his life.
I hear Spencer laugh, and I want to crawl inside a hole and die.
For the first time ever, I hope he doesn’t come in tomorrow morning.
*****
“Are you wearing makeup?” Elijah asks, narrowing his eyes and bringing his face closer to mine to inspect. “You are. To work. What’s the occasion?”
I purse my lips. “Can I not look nice at work without an interrogation?”
So I put a tiny bit of effort into my appearance today. What’s the big deal? I just added a little contouring to my face, and filled my eyebrows in. It’s not like I came into work looking like a cake face. Not that there’s anything wrong with girls who choose to do so.
“If you’re trying to look nice for me, you don’t have to, babe,” he says with a seedy wink. “You have a natural beauty that appeals to a man like me.”
I turn to Charlie, who is smirking in my direction. “How does he still have a job?”
“Because our boss is a very patient woman,” he says, shrugging. “And there’re no other cool people in this town to hire. So really he’s here by default.”
“I make a mean sandwich,” Elijah says, squaring his shoulders. “And don’t get me started on my coffee skills. Oh, and I’m also extremely overqualified for this job.”
While the two of them continue their argument, I think about Sylar and the fact that he never came in this morning. I know in my head I’d wished that he wouldn’t, but now I’m feeling a little let down that he didn’t show up. I had this whole spiel ready. I was going to say a charming line to play off yesterday’s incident. Something about living down the road from me. I don’t know. Something witty that might earn me another lip twitch, or heaven forbid—a smile.
Why is he so difficult?
I don’t even know if he is or not, really. I don’t know anything about h
im, but it sure seems like he is.
*****
“A guy just sent me a dick pic,” Christina says, not even batting an eyelash over it. I suppose since she’s a regular on several dating sites, it’s something she sees often enough that it doesn’t even faze her anymore.
“And?” I ask her, peering over her screen, trying to get a glimpse. “Is it anything to brag about or not?”
I’ve never received a dick pic before, and I don’t know what is sadder, that no one wants to show me their dick, or that it’s now the norm to do so.
“Eh,” she says, shrugging and putting her phone down. She shoves a chip in her mouth and looks back at the TV screen.
“What did you reply to him?” I ask, wondering what exactly the etiquette is in these kind of scenarios.
“Nothing,” she says, smirking in my direction. “What was I meant to say?”
I roll my eyes. “At least a thank you, surely!”
She starts laughing, shaking her head. “You’re hilarious, you know that? Why should I thank him for sending a pic of his cock? I didn’t ask for it. He sent it for him, not me. He wants me to make a comment on how big and great it is, or something along those lines, to give his ego a boost, but you know what?”
“What?” I ask, wondering what else is going to come out of her mouth.
“I’m not a liar,” she states with a straight face.
I suddenly can’t stop laughing.
“Dick pic 101,” she says, winking at me. “Maybe you should get online and experience some of this shit with me.”
“Because it sounds so great?” I fire back, sticking out my tongue at her. “If I wanted to see penis, I’d just go watch some porn.”
“These dicks are available in real life though,” she says, picking up her phone and waving it in the air. “Only one message away. Except the only guy I want to contact me, still hasn’t.”
“You still haven’t heard from him?” I ask, knowing she’s been waiting for the guy who took her number at the petrol station to call. Something hits me. “You know the way you described him sounds exactly like Spencer.”
“Creepy hot guy’s brother?” she asks, eyes going wide. I told her all about what happened yesterday when I was walking Snoop, even though I didn’t want to relive it. As expected, she laughed at me first before assuring me it wasn’t a big deal, and not as embarrassing as I think it is. She’s clearly being a good friend by lying to me to try and make me feel better.
“Yeah,” I say, tilting my head to the side. “And this town is small enough for it to be true.”
“How do we find out?” she asks, leaning closer to me. “Maybe we should take Snoop for another walk past their house.”
I purse my lips. “By all means, take my Snoopy, use him as your wingman, but there is no way in hell I’m walking past that house again.”
** Thirty minutes later **
“I hate you.”
“You’re a great friend,” Christina says, beaming as she gets her way, while I’m going to be left looking like a total dickhead in front of Sylar.
Again.
Him not coming into the café yesterday spoke volumes. He’s not interested, and to be honest, he never gave me any indication that he was. I don’t know why I feel a little down about it, but I do. I have horrible taste in men, always have, and probably always will, and it’s probably for the best that he stops coming into the café. I don’t need to look forward to seeing anyone every day, and I sure as hell don’t need to be intrigued by a man who looks like he plays a villain in his spare time. As we approach the house, I exhale in relief as I don’t see the men out the front. Maybe I’ll catch a lucky break this time, and won’t have to see either of them.
“That’s the house,” I tell her hesitantly, nodding further up to the right.
“I have a plan,” she says, glancing down at me. “It involves you hiding in the bushes.”
I do a double take of my best friend, not sure that I heard her words right. “Wait, what? What are you going to do exactly?”
The sad part is, I don’t think I’m opposed to hiding in the bushes. As long as they never see me, I’m good to go. And I’m still being a great partner in crime by being here. It’s a win-win situation.
“I’m going to go knock on his door, and then act surprised when I see him,” she says, glancing down the street and back. She looks down at her boobs and cups them, pulling her bra up, making them look nice. “These two need to look perfect in case he answers the door.”
“And why are you going to say you’re at his door?” I ask, hoping her plan has more substance to it than that.
Her brow furrows in thought. “I’ll tell him I’m looking for my cat or something.”
I blink a few times. “You don’t have a cat. In fact, you don’t even like cats.”
“He doesn’t know that,” she says, and points to a large bush across from his house. “You and Snoop should hide there.”
“Are you sure this is the best plan of action?” I ask her, picking up Snoop and stopping in my tracks. “I really don’t want Sylar to see me at his house again.”
He’ll probably think I’ve turned into a stalker or something. Great, just what I need. And knowing Christina, this plan is going to be an epic fail anyway. She doesn’t get embarrassed, and will play any situation off. I, on the other hand, would rather not have to explain to Sylar why I’m in the bushes near his house. However, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can leave.
And I want to leave.
“No one will see you,” she promises, patting Snoop’s head. “I’ve got this.”
“You’ve also got no shame,” I tell her.
She nods. “I know. This dating world is rough though, so it’s time for drastic measures. Why take my number and then not call? He’s practically asking for this.”
I sigh and point to the bush. “I’ll be behind there.”
As I lower myself to the grass and make sure all of me is hidden behind the bush, I wonder if this is the lowest point in my life.
Sadly, probably not.
Chapter Five
I watch from in between leaves as Christina knocks on the door, and silently pray that no one is home.
“Come on,” I whisper, hoping for the ideal situation, one where we go home after this and never have to walk past this house again. A drama-free outcome.
I’m not that lucky. The door opens, but I can’t see who she’s talking to, if it’s one of the brothers or someone else.
Please don’t be Sylar.
When she moves aside a few minutes later, Spencer walks out and looks along the side of his house. She follows him and glances out over his front yard. I’m wondering what they’re doing when it hits me. Is he helping her look for her cat? The one that doesn’t exist?
Jesus Christ.
When Spencer has his back turned to me, she waves in my direction and gives me a thumbs-up.
This woman is going to be the death of me.
With a sudden, quick move, Snoop jumps out of my arms and I accidentally let go of the lead. Before I can reclaim it, he bolts, his version of bolting anyway, and heads straight in Christina and Spencer’s direction.
Oh, fuck.
I stay hidden, knowing Christina will grab him and watching as she does so. Spencer must have said something hilarious, because she starts laughing, Snoop against her chest, then puts him down and holds the lead. Spencer lifts his head and looks right at me. Right at my bush. Oh my God. Does he know I’m here? Can he see me? Or is he just wondering why a chubby pug ran out of a bush all of a sudden? Crap, he knows it’s my dog, too. And he knows I know where he lives, so he probably must have figured out that Christina showing up at his front door isn’t a coincidence. She should have just said that she was taking Snoop out for a walk and lost him, but it’s too late now. My dog is on Sylar’s property, and Christina’s fake cat will never be found. This whole scenario is a huge disaster, just like I knew it would be.
Ho
w do I even get into these situations?
When I see Spencer pointing to where I am, I know that he either sees me, or knows someone or something is behind this bush. Maybe he thinks it’s the cat? You know, the one that doesn’t exist. Christina takes his hand in hers and distracts him by leading him to the other side of the yard. Should I take this chance to make a run for it? He’s bound to see me, though. Oh God, am I going to just have to sit here until it gets dark or something? Or until they go back into his house, or whatever it is the two of them are going to do next.
“What exactly are you doing, Brielle?” comes a deep voice to my right.
I freeze.
I know that voice; it’s the one I don’t want to hear right now.
Where did he even come from?
I turn my head and look into Sylar’s eyes. He’s watching me, eyes narrowed, arms crossed against his broad chest. He looks different. I think because he’s actually wearing fitted clothing, a sleeveless T-shirt and track pants. He must have been out running, and happened to stumble upon me hiding in the bush, staring at his house like a total creep. How can I even explain this situation to save myself? I don’t think I can.
“I’m… tying my shoelace,” I say, shrugging and standing up, facing him. “And looking for a cat, apparently.”
I picture myself as he must see me, my blonde hair in a braid down my back, face free of make-up except the mascara on my lashes. I’m in workout clothes, leggings and a loose-fitting black top with the arm holes showing off the sides of my stomach.
“Brielle—”
“You didn’t come in to get your coffee,” I blurt out, unable to stop myself. As soon as I say the words I regret them, because they give so much away. They tell him that I noticed, and they tell him that it bothers me. I don’t know this man well enough for it to bother me, yet it clearly does. I never give so much of myself away, yet with him it’s like all bets are off.
Why?
I take in his features, his beard, those blue eyes I can’t seem to stop thinking about, and then his mouth. Those lips. I’d like to taste them, but I know that one taste will only leave me hungry for more. His lips are tainted with something I should run from, but instead am actively seeking. I think this says a lot about me.
See No Evil: Part One (See No Evil #1) Page 3
