Page 2

Author: Cheryl McIntyre


Yes. Yes it does. I open my mouth with full intentions of flirting, but I’m cut short by Jessie’s victory shout. I look up just in time to see him lean over the railing from the floor above, water cooler in hand. I gasp as ice cold water drenches my body, head to toe, as well as the stranger standing in front of me. He drops the box, and by the sound of it, breaks whatever is inside.


I blow water off my lips and push my hair out of my face, pointing a finger up. “That’s who I thought you were,” I pant.


Sexy stranger runs a hand down his face and cocks a brow. He lifts the tiny squirt gun from my hand. “You were taking on that,” he gestures upward with the gun, “with this?” He waves it in front of me and grins. “Doesn’t seem like a fair fight.”


I smile back at him, relieved he’s being cool about the whole thing. “It really isn’t, but what’s a girl to do?”


He observes me for several seconds before handing my worthless gun back. “Get him while he’s sleeping,” he says. “Not with that,” he adds quickly, nodding at my hand. “Go big.”


I look up at him and smile slowly in an obvious way. “I like big.” And then I turn around and run up the steps to my apartment to change.


“He got you again?” Bree, my best friend and roommate, asks, laughing.


“I will seek my revenge,” I vow as I continue into my room. Jessie is sprawled out on my bed, the picture of ease with his feet crossed at the ankle. His hands clutch a towel behind his head. I don’t miss the smug smile on his face.


“You look damp, Lu,” he says casually.


I prop a fist on my hip. “Don’t act so proud of yourself, Jess. The only way you can get a girl wet is by dumping a cooler of water on her.” I attempt to tug the towel out of his hand, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he pulls on it, dragging me down on top of him. I push myself up so I’m straddling him. Prying the soaking wet tank top out of my bra, I ring it out over his head.


Jessie grabs my wrists and pushes me back until I’m on my back and he’s hovering above me. “You got the new neighbor,” I say.


“Oh, yeah?”


I nod. “Soaked him.”


Jessie hops off the bed. “That’s nine—nothing.”


“Only because you’re a cheater.”


“I don’t cheat,” he huffs, insulted. He rests a hand on the door knob. “You are just terrible at this game.”


“That’s just what I want you to believe. You better watch your back.” I smirk at him and lift my brows. “You never know when I might strike.”


“Lulu, I look forward to getting you wet again.” He winks at me and breezes out the door. “By the way,” he calls over his shoulder, “the new neighbor is my roommate—and trust me when I say he deserves an ice bath.”


“Wait,” I yell. I peer around the doorway. “You know him?”


“Yeah. Since grade school.”


“He’s really cute. Does he have a girlfriend?”


Jessie smirks at me and shrugs. “He has a lot of girls. I don’t know if any are actually his friends.”


My brows pull together. “What does that mean?”


He shrugs and chuckles as he turns on his heel, heading for Bree. He smacks a kiss on her cheek. “Bye baby.” She throws her hand up, patting his neck, but doesn’t look away from her laptop. Jessie strolls past me, back into my room, and ducks out the window. He pauses on the fire escape, glancing back at me. “It means you need to stay away from him.”


Hmm. Interesting.


“At least tell me his name,” I say.


He shakes his head and grabs onto the railing. “It never ceases to amaze me,” he murmurs. I lean out after him.


“All I want is a name to go along with the memory of his gorgeous face.”


“Something to think about at night?”


“Maybe,” I sing.


He shakes his head again, but laughs. “His name’s Park.”


2


Park


I slosh into my new apartment with my wet, mangled box. I should be pissed that Jessie poured gallons of ice water over my head, but I can’t muster the appropriate anger. He’s nowhere to be found, which doesn’t surprise me. The chicken shit knows he deserves an ass beating for that one.


I drop the box on the coffee table and look inside. Come on. Son of a…


“Hey, man,” Jessie says, coming around the corner. I look to the front door then back to Jessie. Where the hell did he come from? He casually lowers himself into the recliner and throws his feet up next to my box that holds my now broken Nintendo. I know it’s old as hell, but I love my old school game systems.


I stare blankly at him. “You owe me a new console.”


He chuckles lightly and lifts his head. “I don’t think you want us to start cashing in I.O.U.’s.” He gives me a sharp look.


Good point. The fact I’m standing here right now speaks volumes as to the uneven scales of our friendship. It still sucks I’m out a vintage Nintendo. “Maybe I can fix it. After it dries out.”


He smirks at me, resting his folded hands behind his neck. “Casualty of war, my friend. Right place, wrong time and all that.”


I grunt. “Hm. Yeah. Do I want to know what that’s about?”


He drops his feet and grins. “If I have to explain why I spent my afternoon chasing the hot neighbor around with a bucket of water, then your issues run deeper than I was aware of.”


I nod. No more explanation needed. That hippie chick was hot. Especially wet. “Which apartment’s hers?”


He points at the ceiling. “Next floor.” Slapping his hands on his knees, he pushes himself up and stretches. “You need help bringing up the rest of your shit?”


I’m pretty sure he just tried to intercept my interest in the neighbor, but I let it go. If he’s got dibs, I’m not about to step on his shoes. “If you don’t mind.”


I open the door to a nice round ass in cut off shorts. Jessie groans as he pushes past me. “Need some help?” he asks, his voice strained.


“Damn shoe just came untied.” She flings her long, damp hair behind her shoulder.


That’s a lot of hair.


She follows Jessie’s gaze, glancing back at me. Her big gray eyes crinkle as a smile spreads across her heart-shaped face. She stands up and I notice she has great legs. They’re a little on the short side, but they’re lean and toned—a runner’s legs. I’m usually more about T and A, which she has plenty of, but I find myself having a hard time taking my eyes off her calves. She offers me her hand and I snap my attention to her face. She has that natural look going for her. No make-up—she doesn’t need it. Her skin is tan, her cheeks holding a natural glow. And her lips. Her fucking lips are a work of art. Her upper lip is fuller than the bottom, and the way it curves up… I think it’s called a cupid’s bow. It’s amazingly kissable. I shake her hand and she lets her eyes fall over my wet and clinging clothes.


“I’m Lucy.” She points up, her other hand still in mine. “I live in 3B.”


“Park.”


“Yeah. I know.” She pulls her hand away and tucks a strand of golden hair behind a heavily pierced ear. She already knows my name? I eye her up and down as I wonder if she was asking about me or if Jessie was talking shit. “You haven’t changed your wet clothes.”


“All my stuff is down in the car.” I’m still watching her, mostly because she’s nice to look at, but partially because I’m trying to figure out if she’s got something going on with my new roomie.


Jessie clears his throat obnoxiously, drawing my attention back to him. He really doesn’t like me talking to Lucy. It makes me want to do it more if he’s going to be a dick about it.


“Let’s get your shit. I have to work tonight,” Jessie states and turns toward the steps.


Lucy moves out of the way. “It was nice meeting you, Park.”


I like the way she uses my name. Setting me apart from Jessie even though the sentence alone did that. “It was really nice meeting you too, Lucy.”


“My friends call me Lulu or just Lu.” She tucks that hair back again, but it stubbornly falls past her ear.


I cock my head to the side and step closer to her. “Are we friends?”


Her lips part and her eyes grow stormy. And then she laughs, a soft melodic sound that has the singer in me trying to match the key in my head. “Jessie was right—I need to stay far, far away from you.” She bounds down the stairs. “See you later, Jess.”


I throw a look at him. “What the hell was that? You told her to stay away from me?”


Jessie shrugs unabashed. “She’s too good to be one of your girls.”


“But you’re in her league?” I let my eyes rake over his disheveled hair, ripped jeans, and worn Vans. He fucking looks homeless and he’s judging me.


“Not even close.” He shakes his head slowly. “This is non-negotiable if you want to live here.”


I cross my arms over my chest and grin at him. “You’re serious.”


“Yes. Promise me you won’t touch her.”


I raise my brows and cough out a laugh. You have got to be shitting me. “Do I need to swear on a bible or something?”


Jessie’s eyes narrow and he moves closer, his voice dropping. “Look, man. I’m dead fucking serious about this. She’s my friend, she lives in the same building, and she’s sweet. I won’t watch you treat her like shit. I want you to promise me you will not touch her or you can’t stay.”


I laugh again as I rub my forehead. I should be insulted—fuck that—I am insulted. But I can’t deny I’d hit it and quit it. And I need a place to stay—especially for as cheap as he’s offering. There is no way I’m going back to the house I was subletting for the summer.


“Calm your ass down. I’m cool. I promise, I won’t touch the hot hippie chick in 3B. All right?”


He steps back and noticeably relaxes. “All right. We’re good.”


I follow him down to my car and look sideways at him. “So, you and her got something going on?”


He grabs a box and barks out a harsh laugh. “No. She’s just a friend.” He turns to face me and tucks the box under his arm. “Now her roommate, Bree? That’s mine. You can’t touch her either.”


I smirk at him. “Objectifying women? How 1950’s scumbag of you. Is there any girls in this building you’ll give me your permission to touch?”


He looks up like he’s thinking. “1A, 2C, 3A, and 3D.”


I reach in for my duffle bag. “What’s wrong with them?”


He shakes his head and walks back inside, ignoring my question.


***


Turns out 1A is the landlady. She’s in her sixties and smells like cat piss due to the at least eight cats residing in her apartment. 2C is a forty year old divorcee with a thirteen year old son who tried to shoot me with a pellet gun. 3A is a lesbian and not interested in a threesome. I checked. 3D has a revolving door and I’m pretty sure those weren’t cold sores on her lip.


I slam the door and glare at Jessie. “You suck.”


He grins widely at me as he slips on his shoes. “You got a hot date tonight?”


“Herpes never go away,” I hiss.


He shivers, but then doubles over with laughter. “I don’t know why you want to try to hook up with someone that lives in the same building anyway.”


“Convenience. And what are you talking about? You’re hooking up with that Bree girl.”


“Yeah, but I’m dating her. Not just fucking her.”


I cringe. That’s a concept long forgotten for me. He might as well be speaking a foreign language. I’d probably understand it better. “To each his own, I guess.”