Page 7 of Detour

Shuffling the basket into one hand, I push back some hair that fell forward over my shoulder and fan my face.

“That wasn’t a lot of clothes over there. Is it just you upstairs?” His eyes hold mine with something that looks an awful lot like hope but might actually be a reflection of my own futile desire. “Or maybe you have a roommate you’ve been hiding who’s opposed to wearing clothing?”

My previous idea of becoming a nudist returns, making me smile. “Hence the need to keep them hidden.”

We both breathe out somewhat strangled laughs.

“Right,” he drawls.

“You caught me,” I joke, leaving the truth suspended somewhere above us to join the hot air creeping along the ceiling before it can all float out together where I left the door cracked open.

So quiet I almost miss it, Coty utters, “Not yet.” Then louder, he says, “I’ll see you around, Angela. Let me know if you ever need a cup of sugar or something.”

I bite my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing. Sugar, huh?

With that, he takes off out the door and out of my head.

Hopefully.

Probably.

CHAPTER 5

Coty

Sugar? Really? That’s the best you could come up with?

Neighbors do that kind of thing. Right?

Fuck it, they do now. I’ll get her the whole damn baking aisle if I have to.

I pound up the stairs a little too hard thinking about our new neighbor. Our frustratingly cryptic, sarcastic, takes no shit, drop-dead gorgeous neighbor.

Angela.

With her tan skin layered with a slight sheen of sweat from the balmy day. That bare shoulder taunting me. Testing me and my thin-as-thread patience from being cooped up in that heat swamp of a laundry room before she walked in bringing that much needed breeze I didn’t realize I’d been hoping for.

Her straight, sun-tinted hair, reminding me of the Californian surfers we saw on one of the many trips Marc let us tag along on, reaching just above her perfectly toned ass. It would look better splayed across my bed than stuffed under those hats she’s always rocking but we’ll get to that. One day. She may be on the skinnier side but her body holds a layer of muscle at every angle that proves she’s a hard worker. If what she told Beck is true about her still being in high school, then she must work hard to live on her own. If she lives alone.

Those hazel eyes beg me to take a closer look, even if her mouth says otherwise—chameleons in their own right, much like Angela with her vague responses and non-answers. She’s one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met and I know nothing about her. Yet. She takes in everything around her without revealing anything in the process. She’s holding back, that much is obvious. She knows what’s going on but doesn’t use that knowledge until necessary, and not a moment sooner. She demands attention without even trying. It’s almost like she’s trying to hide herself from anyone and everyone, which is the opposite of what happens. All eyes land on her. And stay.

Once I caught sight of her today in the pool, I couldn’t focus on the shit coming from Beck’s mouth any longer. Hell, I couldn’t remember where I even was let alone the details of his story about some turtle he saved from crossing the road. His words were muted the second my gaze fell on her in that temptation she thinks passes as a bikini. That little number had me wound up. Tight. I even managed to miss Beck climbing down the balcony to join her.

Bastard.

I head straight for my room to drop off my clean clothes on my way for another cold shower. I’ve needed a lot of those lately. Too many. Ever since a certain dark-haired beauty moved in next door actually. And I’m not talking about Gary. I mean the dude is cool but he’s just not my type. First, and this is a big one, I’m into girls. Second, I’m pretty sure Gary hasn’t come out of his apartment for over a year other than to do the occasional load of laundry. The guy orders online like a champ though. His door step is always chock-full of packages. Of…things that further prove why he just isn’t for me. In any manner.

Beck’s annoying laughter follows me down the hall as I pass Marc’s open door. It’s usually closed and locked so he must be inside but forgot to close it all the way. I decide against saying anything. Dude is private but will open up bits at a time when the mood strikes. Not that it strikes often, but once in a while he’ll let us in. He used to disappear for a week at a time without a word until Beck had the brilliant idea to follow him one day. When we confronted him at the airport, his response was a simple shrug along with an invite to Key West. Hell yeah, we went. With just the clothes on our backs and the cash in our pockets and it was one of the best trips I’ve ever been on. Dude does that shit on the regular. He’ll blindly pick a destination and go. Just go. The guy is crazy but we love him.

“What happened to you, bro? You’re gone for a while, then come storming in. You run into our fine ass neighbor girl out there?”

Ignoring him, I move for the bathroom which only spurs him on further.

“Another shower?”

Yeah, okay. Everyone is aware of my increased showering lately. Can you blame me though? I got two doors separating me from a girl I can’t get out of my head, or line of vision. A girl with a name— finally. An extra shower, or two, is the least of my worries right now.

“Her name’s Angela,” I say just to be a dick, slamming the door shut.