Page 10 of You Saw the Best In Me

“I’ll think about it, kitten,” I say, and I hear her giggle outside of the door, and there’s nothing more I would’ve liked than to invite her inside.

Wearing a tank top – without a bra this time – and another pair of tiny shorts, I could’ve devoured her instantly.

Does this woman own any clothing that doesn’t drive me wild? She’s always wearing just enough to keep my mind wandering to filthy places.

I tell Harper to get ready for bed and mentally remind myself that weekdays off aren’t a blessing but a curse in disguise because this day has taken too many wild turns.

I have a busy morning ahead of me, but when my head hits the pillow, I can only imagine Karina and what she was wearing today.

Her nipples poking out of the fabric, sideboob escaping the confines of the shirt, and I’m battered and bruised at this point. Sleep seems nearly impossible, as I have sex on the brain. I’m fighting this attraction so hard, my mind is coming up with new ways to torture me.

Either I give in, just once, and see if she’s into me as well, or I continue to dance on the line between hating her, and flirting with her, which may very well drive me insane.

KARINA

Ican’t contain my embarrassment. As much as I want to hate my neighbor, I’m so pathetically drawn to him. After three shots of tequila, I worked up the courage to knock on his door again in the teeniest outfit I could find, and to my surprise, he had a guest — a woman.

Except, it wasn’t a woman. He read the disappointment on my face and had to clarify that his little sister was staying over.

To cover up how mortified I was, I offered him a rain check, and he used that seductive pet name again, sending flares of heat throughout my soul.

I played it cool, but I want to evaporate now that I’m on the other side of my door.

I down another tequila shot, shaking off the events of the last few hours, and I choose not to blast my music tonight out of respect for his sister.

It intrigues me that his younger sister sleeps over at his apartment. They must be close, an endearing quality in a man his age.

My phone rings, and I smile when I answer the phone.

“Hi, Mom! How are you?” I say, bracing myself for her tone.

With me being in hiding, we can’t text. It’s safer that way, so we call each other every other night and catch up the old-fashioned way. Some days, she has an attitude and hates my choices; others, she acts like she loves me.

“Hi Karrie, how’s the new apartment?” she says, a dash of sarcasm in her voice.

“It’s good. I bought new furniture and decorations, trying to make it feel like home,” I tell her, and she sighs on the other line.

“Karina, I thought we talked about that. You’re so far away now. How can you move at a moment's notice if you need to pack, move couches, and do it all by yourself?” she asks, and I know she’s right.

“Mom, I just want to live my life. I want cute shit I can hang on my walls and a comfortable couch to watch TV on. I’ve already given up so fucking much. Can’t I have the little things?” I say, pouring another drink because this conversation is too heavy.

“Of course, I want that for you. A couch, a bed, and wall decor aren’t the small things in your situation. They’re big and hard to pack quickly. I’m just looking out for you,” My mom quips, and I roll my eyes.

“I have a neighbor, and he’s a big pain in my ass. He declared a prank war on me because I listen to music too loud,” I changed the subject, hoping that talking about a guy would make her stop worrying about furniture.

“Sounds like he’s interested in you. Is he cute?” she asks, and I dish out all the details.

Before I know it, we’ve been on the phone for nearly an hour and agree it’s time to hang up.

Sometimes, I feel like a prisoner, especially when I talk to my mom. She’s just a reminder of the life I lead.

I’m always on guard, checking my surroundings and traveling lightly. After years of living on the run, I’m tired of not feeling like my own person.

I’ve decorated and planted roots and intend to stay this time. I won’t be moving again, no matter if Asher finds me.

I remember when I was seventeen, a stupid kid desperate for love, no matter the cost.

My dad left us a year earlier, moving overseas for business and never looking back. That year shaped who I am today, and Asher was the worst thing that ever happened to me.