by Jolie Day
As the elevator arrived, I stepped inside next to him.
In the quiet ride down, I tilted my head slightly and looked at him.
He eyed me back.
“Prick,” I said with a nod of my head, as if I was bidding him a good morning.
He smiled politely.
Ding.
“Miserable shrew,” he returned my greeting with sarcastic kindness.
As the elevator doors opened, we went our separate ways, none too quickly.
That evening, I arrived home to a quiet apartment. That wasn’t exactly unusual, but normally, Daisy would come running from wherever she’d been sleeping. Frowning, I set down my things and started searching for her. I was on my hands and knees, looking under all the furniture, when there was a knock on my door.
I opened it to find Miles standing with little Daisy tucked under his arm and an extremely pissed-off expression on his face.
“Oh, my word, there you are!” I exclaimed as relief rushed over me, and I took my little cutie pie from his arms. “Where have you been?” My high-pitched mommy-baby talk was loud as I held her to my face and kissed her furry head.
She purred and purred and purred, then looked into the apartment and meowed loudly as she leapt from my arms and ran inside.
Miles stepped forward, staring into my eyes as he pointed his finger at me. “You know perfectly well where she’s been,” he grumbled.
“Huh?” I asked, confused.
“I know you did this. You knew she’d rip up my shit, so you put her in my apartment. My couch is ruined! My pillows—shredded. Smells like cat piss. Everywhere.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Calm down. You saw me leave this morning, and, besides, I wouldn’t do that to her.”
Miles shook his head and continued pointing his finger at me. “I don’t buy it. You know what? This is Game. Fucking. On.” He turned and left, back to his apartment.
“Yeah, whatever,” I said to his retreating back.
I didn’t really care what he thought. I went to feed Daisy and to get some much-needed downtime. The international marketing campaign for the organic makeup line was still to be decided—well, thought up, really. Luckily, I had several ideas cooking but nothing concrete or set in stone just yet.
Later in the week, I arrived in the lobby late in the evening after work, and as usual, stood waiting for the elevator. I’d ended up working much later than usual today, trying my best to get the marketing campaign off the ground. I was looking forward to a meeting with the creative team.
As luck would have it, Miles came waltzing in with two women.
He smiled at me. “Oh, hello, neighbor.” He appeared incredibly smug.
“Hi, Miles. Party at your place tonight?” I asked with fake kindness, knowing the answer, and already dreading the night ahead.
“Oh, yeah, you know, I’m being more responsible and shit. No paparazzi in my apartment, you see. So, really, you should support this. Hey, why don’t you join us?” His smile was wide and evil, it seemed, because he knew he was getting on my nerves.
I looked him straight in the eyes and said, “I’m good.”
Spotting my unintended opening (as if I introduced myself and “good” was my name), Miles chuckled and said, “Rose, this is Eunice, and this is Eugenia. My two decorators. And this is Rose. My neighbor,” he added. “I’d be happy if you came over.”
“Nice to meet you.” I nodded to the women and directed my attention back to Miles. “I’m good,” I repeated.
At that point, the elevator arrived.
I stepped in, followed by the threesome. They stood behind me, leaning against the back wall, but with all the mirrors, I could still see them.
“Well, it’s just us then.” I knew Miles was trying to rile me up, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Mr. Humphries, we can handle it,” Eunice said and moved her body closer to him.
The other girl, Eugenia, clearly very tipsy, smiled and added, “Definitely. We have a lot of work to do today, and we need to stay… focused.”
“Actually, I’m expecting a few more guests for drinks later.” Miles glanced at his watch. “Hmm. They might be here already, looks like we’re late.”
“Better late than never,” Eugenia sang, moving her head into his neck and nudging him playfully.
Miles shook his head, but he had a smirk on his face as he leaned his head back against the mirrored wall. I could clearly see he was watching me.
I tried hard to remain composed, but the darn truth was that Miles looked good tonight. Better than good. He’d obviously taken his motorcycle out today, because he was in his leather jacket and boots. The stubble along his jawline was slightly longer than usual. His hair was combed over, but slightly tousled. I hoped from his helmet and not from one of the girls.
Why? I whispered to myself. Why do I care? Maybe because he’s got a whole G-Eazy look going on tonight, a voice in my mind whispered back.
When the doors dinged open, I wanted to thank the heavens.
Music greeted us, coming from Miles’ apartment.
How typical of the guy to be late to his own party. Two tall, handsome men, both of which I recognized as his biker buddies, came out to greet him. The taller one had black hair and glasses, and the other was a dirty blond with a friendly face.
Without sparing them another glance, I attempted a composed walk to my side of the hallway, but I couldn’t get away fast enough. As I closed the door behind me, I heard Miles’ low chuckle floating in my direction.
It was 3 a.m.
The music had not stopped. I’d managed to ignore the first half of the party by putting my headphones on and playing calming noises while I sat, trying to meditate in the farthest room from our adjoining wall. It helped for maybe an hour, but since I’d gotten into bed, all I could hear was the music, the laughing, and the giggles.
And now, wait—was that a moan? And another one? Na-ah.
Decorators my ass!
I was angry as hell. Hell no. The noise was one thing, but music continuing until three a.m.? That was just plain rude. I threw the blanket off my body and got up to go over and shout at him.
This had to stop. Now.
I stormed across the hall to his door and realized, with surprise, it was half-open. I pushed and walked in, slowly. The place was dark, except for a few blue luminous LED light strips he had in the cornices of the ceiling. The low blue light made it appear like a hip night club. I couldn’t see anyone, though. Everybody was gone. I squinted and listened for sounds, however, except for the loud music, I couldn’t hear anything.
That’s when I noticed Miles’ silhouette in the darkness of the balcony.
He was alone. His body was leaning forward against the railing, his wide back facing me. What was he doing? He seemed to be deep in thought. Was he enjoying the late night air? His hair was completely tousled—not from his helmet—standing all over the place.
But more importantly, I noticed something else.
He was naked. Mostly.
Boxer briefs. Black and tight. Maybe dark blue or dark gray—it was hard to see. But nothing else. I held my breath and backed up three steps toward the front door, where there was complete darkness, where he wouldn’t see me. I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d decided to hide from him all of a sudden.
It wasn’t like I’d never seen a man in almost nothing before.
But this was Miles. I’d never seen him in almost nothing before.
And, to be honest, the view he presented to me froze my brain. Why did I even come here again? I couldn’t remember.
What I did remember was that I needed to get a better look at this mostly naked man. I raked my gaze over every inch of his body. His back was tattooed—some kind of black animal, I couldn’t make out details in the darkness, except for its big, bright eyes—and he was rippled with muscles, and his shoulders looked huge. Miles’ ass seemed so tight under the fabric of the underwear, and as my eyes continued do
wnward, I noticed that his thighs were thick and strong, with equally muscular calves.
To my surprise, he suddenly stood up straight and began turning around. I moved quickly to hide behind the door—but peeked around nonetheless, hoping he couldn’t see me in the darkness.
Miles headed to the speakers and turned the music down. Then, he shut it off completely.
You might think this would have woken me out of my daze. It did not.
Now, he stood under the blue glow, and I froze at this new sight. His messy hair hung over his face, the shadow accentuating his chiseled cheekbones and chin. For a second, I wondered how his lips felt and whether they tasted like honey. A tattoo of barbed wire spiraled around his biceps and across his chest, with red roses in between the spikes. Were they covering scars? It was hard to tell. His pecs were swollen and bulging, his abs were defined. I knew from his frame and how the suits fit him that he was a muscular man, but seeing him and his naked torso had not been what I’d expected.
To make matters worse, I couldn’t help but drop my eyes, and I stopped breathing completely. In his boxer briefs was the biggest bulge I’d seen. What the actual hell? Those were definitely not socks. Or else they were really long and thick socks. His dick wasn’t even erect, but the swell was clearly substantial—the line of its silhouette proved it.
My body responded quickly. I’d already stopped breathing, and now I felt a deep, warm throb spread through my lower abdomen. My pussy clenched as I realized I was getting wet. Fuck. No!
Over him? Miles, the biggest dickface on the planet? Not. Happening! Down, girl.
I pulled back and quickly snuck out of his apartment.
There was no point in giving him hell about the music now that he’d turned it off. Besides, I couldn’t bring myself to shout at him, not in his undressed state, and my completely turned-on state. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to get out a sensible word.
Once I was back in bed, my mind was reeling. I was horny, yes, but I hated the idea of giving him the virtual satisfaction of getting me off. It would never happen. Ever. I sighed and leaned over, pulling my vibrating dildo from the nightstand. He’d never know.
The next morning, I called up my best friend, Juliette. Some girl time sounded like a great idea. We met at a café a few blocks from my building.
“Oh, my God. Hey, Rosey.” Juliette’s high-pitched voice called across the room as I arrived, turning just about every head in the room. “What?” She scanned the other patrons, challenging them to say something.
I laughed as I reached her. “Hey, Jules. Thanks for meeting me.” I sighed as I removed my jacket and sat down. “I need to vent right now.”
Juliette was a fun, bombshell of a woman. She was curvaceous and had long blonde hair. We’d been friends since childhood, mostly because our parents ran in the same circles. Well, used to, anyway. My dad had told me it was important to go to all the fancy charity or business events with him. “It’s a family event,” he’d always said. I’d never understood, because as soon as we arrived, he’d be off talking to everyone else, and I had to sit with the other kids. None of them had ever been “family events,” and most of the other kids were mean.
One evening, I’d been feeling particularly bored, and I’d taken a seat in the corner of the huge room. Just when I began pulling out my hair clips—completely ruining the odd hairdo my nanny had spent a half hour getting right—I noticed a commotion next to me.
Laughter. Several other girls had walked over to me and were cackling.
“What’s… that?” I heard, cattiness fully implied. Two of the girls pulled at my hair, and it stood all over the place.
“And look at what she’s wearing.”
“Some sort of weird old dress.”
“Stop that! Now.” I started to tear up, trying to bat them away, my face all red, which I hated, but they only snickered and teased me more.
Suddenly, a brazen hand pulled their hands away from my hair and somebody moved between us. It was Juliette. She was wearing the most colorful dress I’d ever seen, with huge pink and yellow flowers. She even had a matching braid and yellow shoes. Yellow was Juliette’s favorite color, it seemed.
“Who are you? And what are you wearing? Look at those ugly colors!” One of the girls started to tease her, too.
“Ugly! Ugly!” another girl sang. “You’re both ugly!”
“Leave us alone!” Juliette had shouted at them. “There’s nothing wrong with being ugly. Your dresses are proof of that. But don’t worry.” She’d given them a sickly-sweet smile. “Better ugly than dumb.”
“That’s right! Better ugly than dumb!” I’d shouted, energized by her words.
The girls had been surprised by Juliette and me—we were usually such good little daughters. They ran to their mommies, complaining about us.
Since then, Juliette and I had been inseparable.
True BFFs.
We had each other’s backs, and as we’d gotten older, and the other girls got bitchier, we would get bitchier, too (so fun!), but ultimately, avoid them, and not even care.
Fast-forward all these years, and we had our own fun at the open bars. I’d often stay at her place when my dad had gone on business trips. Juliette always gave great advice, even though she should take her own—her words, not mine. Such as, move out of her parents’ house. But she liked the perks of the penthouse they owned—again, her words, not mine. I loved her to death.
“What happened, love? Is it that sexy neighbor of yours?” She gave me an excited smile, waiting for my confirmation.
“He is not sexy,” I corrected, before giving the waitress my coffee order. “Well, okay, he is, but that’s not the point. He’s also the biggest asshat, and that makes him completely un-sexy.” Naturally, I’d told her about him in frustration before, and she liked to hear the stories of our snarky banter.
“So, you saw him again?”
“Yes,” I said with a bland expression. “He had me up until after three this morning,”
“Until past three? Oooooh, yes!” Juliette shrieked enthusiastically. “You finally slept with him.”
“God no. The music was still pumping then. I went over to shout at him.” I told her about how I’d accidentally met him in the elevator with his two “decorators.”
“And? What did he do?” She watched me with wide eyes, as if this was the best telenovela she’d seen in a while.
I looked at her guiltily and could feel myself blushing. “I couldn’t do it.”
“Couldn’t do what?”
“Well, yell at him.” I shrugged.
“What? Why?”
“He was practically naked,” I whisper-shouted.
“So?” Juliette scrunched her face with an “And?” expression.
I sighed and leaned forward onto the table. “He’s like… good looking.”
“So?” she repeated, lifting a perfectly arched brow.
“Insanely good looking,” I clarified.
“Gorgeous and ripped?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Tattooed?”
“Yes.” I dragged out the word.
“Hung?” She waggled her eyebrows with a goofy grin.
“Ha-ha, Juliette! Maybe… but maybe not.” I nodded, then shook my head.
“What’s the problem, girl?”
“I just found myself panicking and backing out.”
Juliette drew away, smiling. “I told you. You want him, the banter is only a cover for the sexual tension between you two.” After I gave her a scowl, she continued. “What’s the big deal, anyway? You’ve had a dry spell for, what, two years now? You work way too hard. You need to release some of that tension you’ve got going on.” She drew an air circle around my face. “It’ll give you wrinkles, girl. Just sayin’. And sex is the best possible way. Especially no-strings-attached sex.”
I frowned, playfully swatting her arm. She was full of shit, but I loved her. “I don’t have wrinkles. Anyway…I don’t think I’m ca
pable of that, Jules. There’s always strings attached. ’Cause, you know, I have a heart.”
Juliette laughed and said, “Okay, look at it this way, if you screw the living shit out of him, you’ll get him out of your system. You probably won’t get so riled up about him anymore.” She sipped her coffee and awaited my response.
Smiling at her, I shrugged. “I love you, girl, but I can’t do that. Besides, I need to get him back for last night.” I sat back and tapped my index finger against my lips, considering what my next move would be. A devilish grin crossed my face. “Say, Jules, how about you help me get back at him?”
Her eyes widened. “Hell yes! What are we doing?”
“Well, let’s keep it simple. We do it in the exact same way he got to me last night.”
“Okay, whoa, girl, stop right there. I love you, too, but you don’t know if the girls weren’t really his decorators. My spidey-sense tells me they were, and that nothing happened. Didn’t you say he had more friends over? And before I get your hopes up, I’m not even pretending in that way.” Her mouth pulled into a straight line, and I burst out laughing.
“No!” Still grinning, I tried to explain my plan.
6
MILES
It was a Friday evening, and, I was at home.
I’d had a few drinks with the guys after work, but I’d decided to take it easy tonight, because of Damon and my plans to join Oliver on his yacht tomorrow morning for our guys’ weekend. I was still having my fun—of course—though, I had to admit, the other night was purely to piss Rose off. Her stupid white cat had used my couch as a scratching post, and I swear it pissed in my shoes. I’d left the music pumping until long after my guests had left.
I wasn’t entirely sure if I hoped she’d come storming over, but she’d been suspiciously quiet. Was I disappointed about that? Maybe. I sure wouldn’t have minded seeing her.
It’d been fun, our “little war,” but clearly, she had surrendered.
Just as that thought crossed my mind, I heard the faint sound of giggling.
