I like her best when she doesn’t give a crap about her clothes and makeup. When she lets her guard down, peels off the disguise, and isn’t forcing smiles or overthinking her words.
“Fine,” Colt says, butting his cigarette on the ground. “I believe you, but...” He pins me with a pointed stare that I know well:I’ve got you. “Come talk to me if anything changes.”
“I will,” I say, half absent from this conversation, my mind whirling around Blair’s whereabouts.
I didn’t see her leave today, so I don’t know what she was wearing or where she went that was so important she can’t stop by for sex.
“I mean it, Cody. I’m here for you, alright?”
“I heard you the first time.”
TWENTY
Cody
SOMETIMES I WORRY my head isn’t working the way it should.
Setting aside the fact I stayed up on Friday until I heard Blair come back so I could deduce where she went by her outfit, I’ve been thinking about Ana daily.
By the way, I’m ninety-nine percent sure Blair was with her friends based on her blue sequin dress.
But Ana... I worry about her. Up until her brother’s suicide, she was the most laid-back, carefree girl I ever came across. Always laughing, never taking things seriously. Not even sex, which was refreshing, if I’m honest. No pressure.
I should be happy she’s done stalking me, done hanging outside the building, but when she was here, I knew she was okay.
Well, not okay, but not doing anything reckless.
Now I’m left wondering.
It’s been almost a month since she was last in touch. Anything could’ve happened, but I can’t text her without fueling her obsession.
A knock on my door halts my internal tug-of-war. Setting the knife aside, I cross the condo. Blair’s there, looking unsure of herself, both hands behind her back, nose scrunched.
And she’s wet. Hair, clothes, face... soaked.
“Is it raining?” I ask.
“In my bathroom,” she confirms. “I slipped while cleaning... grabbed the pipe to steady myself, but something cracked, and now it’s sputtering water everywhere. I can’t turn it off. I know this crosses a line, but it’s Sunday—”
I chuckle, halting her rant. “How about you sayCody, could you please fix my showerinstead of rambling on? We’re neighbors, B. Neighbors help and your neighbor happens to be very good with his hands.”
A cute blush creeps up her cheeks. “As he proved many, many times.” She winks, the blush dissolving into a smile. “Could you please fix my shower before it floods the petty woman downstairs?”
“I can.” I invite her in, then retrieve my toolbox from the coat closet. “And Karen’s not only petty, B, she’s old, miserable, and bored.”
“Her name isn’t Karen, but it sure fits. You know she keeps leaving fake parking tickets on my windscreen whenever I’m not parked perfectly inside the lines?”
“All she leaves me is her phone number,” I joke, earning myself a whack on the shoulder. “Hey, it’s not my fault you park like you need extra-strong glasses. While I fix your shower, can you finish the lasagna? Mix the spinach with the meat, layer it all, then shove it in the oven.”
She spins on the balls of her bare feet. “You can cook?”
“I can cook, clean, fix showers, and locate the G spot.”
“Aren’t you a package deal?” She struts toward the kitchen, leaving a wet trail behind.
“Lose your clothes, B. Slip into one of my hoodies.” I motion at her wet jeans. “Or just strip. Your call.”
The last thing I see before I lock her in my condo is two wrinkles lining her forehead. Yeah... I shouldn’t have offered my clothes. I shouldn’t have joked, either, but whatever.
