Shit.No. This wasn’t what I wanted.
“Okay, Doc, get comfortable,” I said, jutting my chin to the couch. “You wanna order food?”
“Sure.” She padded over to the couch and sat, a worried look overtaking her face. “Angelica always orders food at the office, and I’m not sure how she does it.”
“Ah, never done takeout or delivery before, Atwood?” I said, grabbing two bottles of water and sitting next to her on the couch. It made sense to sit right by her and had nothing to do with how good her perfume smelled.
She picked up a pillow and put it on her lap, tracing her fingers over the sides of it where it frayed a bit. Her hands were always moving, always touching something or twisting together. Was she thinking about how the fabric felt different than leaves, or maybe she was nervous? I couldn’t be sure.
“Okay, Fritz. I need you.”
I blinked, taking a quick breath to make sure oxygen was flowing to my brain.She needs me. Needsme. A ringing started in my ears, and my limbs got a tingling feeling when she faced me on the couch, her pink lips pursed and on display, begging to be kissed.
She chewed the side of her mouth and leaned closer to me.
My heart slammed against my rib cage, and my mind raced in every direction.
She opened her mouth, her lips moving, but her proximity stopped my brain from understanding English.
“Fritz?” she said, frowning and lifting her hand to my forehead. “Did you hit your head too hard? Did you hear me?”
“Hm?” I cleared my throat, sat up straighter, and wiped a hand over my face. This was embarrassing. I wasn’t a teenage boy about to touch a boob for the first time. “What did you say?”
“I need you to help me with this experience. Baseball and takeout. What should we eat? My dad made a good point that I should try harder toenjoymy time here.”
That’s why she needs me.Not to kiss her. I was an idiot.
I stood and went to the junk drawer that had takeout menus, bottle caps, pens, and random shit I threw in there. Space from her was good. I knew just the thing to give her the experience. “You like pizza, Doc?”
“Yes.” She leaned over the back of the couch so she could see me, and her voice was high. “I love it.”
“But you’ve only had fancy, rich pizza.” I wiggled my brows, and she scoffed. “What? Am I wrong?”
“Pizza is pizza, Fritz.”
“I’d argue with you, but you’ll know I’m right once it gets here. Monicals, along with their dressing, is another divine gift. You haven’t lived until you’ve had this combination. Trust me.”
“I do trust you.”
Her warm voice pulled at that string in my heart that seemed to be wrapped around her. That was a problem. The trust. It unsettled me to have that part of me slowly repair after Samantha, and the hypocrisy that I was lying to her twisted my stomach. I was going to have a goddamn ulcer.
“Great,” I said, after the silence went on for a beat too long. I ordered a large thin crust pizza with the dressing and joined her on the couch—this time sitting as far away from her as I could. The game started in thirty minutes, and I did my best to focus on the pregame show. If she thought she was being discreet, she wasn’t. She kept looking at me and studying me from the side, and a prickle of irritation made its way down my spine.
She was only checking me out because I wore a suit. That was a red flag. Ilookedricher in this outfit, and that changed her attraction to me. It was superficial and bullshit, and I stood, not even glancing at her. “I’m going to change.”
I didn’t wait for her answer. I went to my room and traded my work clothes for an old T-shirt and shorts that would seem moreon brandfor a chauffeur. My mouth had a sour taste, but I welcomed it. I didn’t want to be into my weird-ass neighbor.
When I walked into the living room, she was on her knees near the plants she’d put in my place, humming to herself as she ran her fingers over the leaves. She was lost in her own world again, in Nora Plant World, and it was captivating.
Lingering curiosity made me ask, “Why plants? What made you so involved with them?”
She sighed, pushed herself up, and shrugged. “I didn’t have a lot of friends, and when my best friend was ripped away from me, plants were all I had. My parents had each other, but going to school, small-talking with people who knew all about the scandal, it was too much. Clarissa, my former best friend and the daughter of the embezzlers, she told all these lies about me, and as a fourteen-year-old, it almost killed me.”
“So plants and your greenhouse…”
“They helped me move on, heal from the heartbreak of being betrayed by my best friend. After that, I stopped caring what people thought and put all my energy into things I loved. If life could be that cruel, then I wanted to do everything I could to find the things I enjoyed.” She glanced at the ground, her shoulders slumping.
I needed to fix it. Her sadness. And I knew just the thing.
