Lost Boy

We’re both breathless. I mourn the loss of his mouth on mine. What the hell was that? I feel drunk, giddy with a million emotions, and incredibly insane. Who does this shit? I thought he was stalking me not a minute ago, and now I’m making out with him like a…a…Charlotte. Like a Charlotte.

“I have to go,” I announce, my finger to my lips. They still vibrate from his touch. I fumble for my keys but can’t find them, so I pound on the door. “Charlotte, open the freaking door!” Looking back over my shoulder at him still standing there, I say, “You can go now.” Every part of me is on fire. “Charlotte,” I cry out. “Open the damn door.”

“Liz…” he says, my name and my insides vault. Did I tell him my name?

“Charlotte.” I’m almost crying, but have no idea why. My calls go unanswered, and I continue to search for my keys. Just as my hand grasps them, his hand comes down on my shoulder, making me twist to shrug him off.

“Leave now,” I snap.

“I live here,” he says with a wide, probing gaze, pointing upstairs. My mouth drops and eyes expand as I follow his finger. Oh my god. He’s the new neighbor. Suddenly, my door opens, and I stumble backward inside the apartment. Two strong hands catch my fall. Nervous energy buzzes in my veins.

“What the fuck?” Charlotte screeches

Charlotte and Paul, the bakery boy, both naked, stand there, gaping at me. “Lizzy, what the fuck?” she barks again. She’s covered in bruises, and so is Paul. They look like they’ve been ten rounds, and not the sexy kind. “We thought you were being murdered!” she says, making no attempt to cover herself up. Paul has his junk cupped in his hands, like I haven’t already got the image imprinted in my brain. He looks sheepish, not making eye contact.

“I’m sorry.” I gasp for breath, acutely aware Mr. Clark still has his hands clutching my arms. “This is the new neighbor,” I announce, tugging myself from his hold.

“The coffee shop guy?” Charlotte appraises him with her slutty eyes, but his eyes remain on me.

“Paul, the delivery guy?” I quirk a brow. “Not Tim?” I scoff.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” she grinds out. “I’m not like you, Liz. This isn’t second nature for me.” That hurts more than I’ll ever be able to convey to her, so I turn and walk straight to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. A few minutes later, I hear footfalls above.

“Why didn’t you tell me you live here?” I call out, pissed he’s been lurking around all mysterious when he lives above me. Is the guy I hear and think about? Crap. Closing my eyes, I try to get my breathing under control. One, two, three… I’m spiraling. Four, five, six…

The bed above me squeaks from the strain of his weight. My chest blooms as a pit grows in my stomach. Do I know him? Yes, you feel it in the essence of your soul.FourteenLiz Wiz… Liz Wiz… Liz Wiz…

I jolt awake, sitting upright and reaching out, grasping air. My lost boy haunted my dreams last night. Guilt for what happened in the hallway burrowed deep and seeped out into my sleeping consciousness. My lips still feel bruised, and there’s this swirling in my gut I can’t control. I wish I didn’t have to dream...or could become the architect of them.

I stare up at the ceiling, picturing Green Eyes, aka Clark, lying right above me. Are his lips still vibrating too?

“You going to stop being a brat?” Charlotte calls through the door to my room.

Getting up, I pull open my door to her pouting face. “You’re an ass,” I scold.

“You’re sensitive.” She bops me on the nose.

“That’s not an insult, and please don’t touch me with those fingers.” I shudder.

Tilting her head back, she says, “Huh, okay, you’re a bitch.”

I flip her a finger and push past her to pee. “Is Paul gone?”

She follows me into the bathroom and begins brushing her teeth. “Yeah. No sleepovers. What’s the deal with sexy face being the new neighbor?” She rolls her eyes to the back of her head and makes a scene of deep throating her toothbrush.

“He kissed me,” I announce, pulling my panties up and flushing.

“What the fuck?” she exclaims, spitting in the sink and gaping at me, toothpaste foam dripping.

Nudging her out the way with my hip, I wash my hands and take my own toothbrush. “It’s weird, right? Like who the hell is this guy and why are things so…so…”

“Hot?” she teases, fanning her face.

“Intense,” I finish, pulling her hand down.

“Maybe because you’re all dark and broody and some weirdos seek out other weirdos to be weird and intense with?”

Narrowing my eyes, I give her a tight smile. “Thanks, that’s helpful.”