“Loads. They left a lot of broken stuff lying around. We've spend the whole afternoon picking up their mess. And, Leslie is such a trooper. She’s scrubbing the bathroom. I won’t even tell you what kind of disaster area that is.”
“Yeah, I remember those two. They were a couple of nerdy guys. Spent all their time playing online games, smoking weed, and eating junk food. I can’t say I'm surprised they left the place trashed.” I grabbed the bag and grunted as I lifted it up. It was heavy. Made me wonder what the hell the dorks who'd previously lived in the place had kept in there. “Damn, did those guys have an S&M dungeon in there or what? Feels like this bag is full of old leg irons and steel handcuffs!” I joked.
She blushed and giggled politely, but I could tell the joke made her a little uncomfortable, or maybe she just didn’t think it was funny. Oh well, at least I tried. I made a mental note that I shouldn't try any more jokes, especially seeing as I appeared to be dealing with someone who didn't actually have a sense of humor. “Come on, follow me,” I said. “I'll show you a shortcut to get to the back of the building where the dumpsters are.”
“Thanks,” she replied, and we both set off.
She followed behind me. We didn't talk much as we went down the fire escape stairs—the shortcut I'd been referring to—but I could have sworn I could feel her eyes on me every step of the way. And not in a bad way, either. There was definitely something in the way that she looked at me when I glanced back at her. I felt it. She, however, seemed to be doing her best to pretend it wasn't there. If she didn’t feel it, I don’t know why. I'm sure she could see the same thing in my eyes.
When we got to the dumpster, she opened the top for me so I could swing the heavy bag over and in. It landed with a crashing thud, making a huge racket. For a moment, our eyes locked and we both started laughing. Then, it seemed that she forced herself to stop laughing as if she was doing something forbidden, and she looked away.
“Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate the help. Anyway, I guess I’ve gotta—”
“Emerson!”
We both looked up at the sudden intrusion. Walking down the alley, dressed in a sleek, impossibly tight-fitting and tiny cocktail dress, was Melissa, swinging an unopened bottle of vodka in her hand. Her apartment complex was only a couple of blocks away and the alley was the shortest distance. Her timing, as always, sucked.
“Oh, uh…hi, Mel,” I said, painfully aware of how awkward I suddenly felt. “You're a bit early.”
“It's never too early to party, Emerson, dear,” she countered, staring at me with a lascivious gaze. She walked over and looped her arm through mine and then leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek.
“Well, are we just gonna stand here next to the dumpster or are we gonna go up to your place and get the party started?” That’s when Melissa’s stare moved to Brooke. “And, who's this? I don't recall inviting anyone else to the party,” she said as she stared coldly at Brooke.
“Oh this is—”
“I'm Brooke.” Brooke jumped in before I could finish my sentence. “I'm just a neighbor, that's all. Nothing more.”
She extended a hand to Melissa who ignored it. Brooke gave her a look I could only describe as disgust. I had to suppress a laugh.
“Neighbor, huh? I hope you don't mind a little noise then, honey. It is Friday night, after all, and Emerson and I are gonna be getting a bit wild later on, I can tell ya that.”
“I'll be sure to put in some earplugs. Hyenas have never been my favorite wild animal,” Brooke said icily. “You guys have a good time,” she said and turned on her heels. I watched her stride briskly to the building before I could say anything at all.
After Brooke had disappeared around the corner, Melissa turned and stared at me until I brought my attention back to her. Suspicion was bubbling in her eyes. “Just a neighbor, huh?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Yeah, just a neighbor. What's it to you, anyway?”
She waited a while, studying me for some reason, before replying. “Nothing. Now come on, let's get upstairs, stud. This vodka isn't gonna drink itself, and the other girls will be here shortly.”
“Alright,” I said reluctan
tly, following her.
I paused for a moment and stared at my new neighbor’s door before Melissa pulled me into my apartment.
Chapter Three
Brooke
I knew it, I just knew it. I was totally right about Emerson. Seeing him with that fake-tittied bimbo downstairs only confirmed everything I suspected about the type of guy he was. Seriously, no guy who looks like that is ever a solid, down-to-Earth, nice guy. Ever. That's just the way the world works. I called it from the moment I saw him. He's a player. I was sure of that now, and as hot as he was—and God, was he hot—the best thing for me to do was just stay the hell away from him. For a brief moment there, before bimbo Barbie showed up, I actually thought there was a chance I might have jumped to conclusions a little too quickly. I thought there might be something different about him. But I was a fool for thinking that could be the case. Nope. That was just straight up wishful thinking. At least I had proof to confirm my suspicions when Leslie tried to talk me into getting to know him better again. That'll help erase any trace of attraction I may have had for him. Let him have his bimbos. That’s exactly what every player deserves—a woman as fake as they are.
“Hey, Bee, you gonna actually cut those potatoes or just stare at them for another five minutes?”
“Sorry, Les,” I said, snapping out of the thought-trance I'd slipped into. I do that sometimes.
“What were you thinking about? You looked as if you were a million miles away.”
“Oh, nothing much.”