Page 22 of King of Hollywood
Impatience won over. It was the Saturday before our date, and I was already over at Felix’s house again, fist raised to knock. It was after dark, as I hadn’t wanted to be rude—even though I was about to be very rude. The weeds were taunting me. There was only so much patience a man could possess when it came to proper lawn management.
Also maybe I missed him a little, and worried he’d been holed up alone for far too long. What if he was crying again? Don’t mistake me for a kind-hearted person. I’m not. I was simply looking after my investment. Because that’s what Felix was. An entertaining, cat wrangling, hat-wearing investment.
Knock, knock, knock.
When Felix opened the door, this time he pulled his hat off the second he saw me. Which kind of—maybe—definitely made me grin.
“Marshall?” He smiled shyly. “I thought our date was Friday?” His eyes looked darker than the last time I’d seen him. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek like he’d been cleaning. When I glanced behind him, the hallway remained just as cluttered as it had been before. Perhaps he’d been working on the mess upstairs?
“It was. Is.” I sucked in a breath. “I just.” I nearly lost my nerve. “Your lawn—”
“My lawn?”
It was overgrown. An eyesore. Ugly. With weeds that wagged toward the sky, scraggly and tall, and grass that broke up the sidewalk. All in all it was awful. I could tell him this. Yes! What a good idea. Delicately. I could tell him, and that would be why I came over. I could take care of his lawn—and have an excuse to be close to him every week.
I was. A. Genius.
I wouldn’t even need an excuse!
Every Saturday like clockwork, I could manage his plants, and knock on his door after dark to see if he was as pretty as I remembered him to be.
I just needed to convince him.
Delicate, Marshall. Polite. This is the man you want to date. Be gentle.
“You have the ugliest lawn I’ve ever seen.” The words were out before I could stop them. It was the truth, but I hadn’t meant to say it quite so…bluntly.
Fix this, Marshall.
Fix it.
You need to fix it.
“It’s awful. Truly horrendous.” No, no. No. No. Oh fuck. “I mean—have you ever mowed it?”
Why wouldn’t my mouth stop going?
Someone shoot me.
Please.
“It is quite ugly, isn’t it?” Felix frowned, glancing out toward the raggedy foliage thoughtfully, like he was not offended at all—but instead contemplative. I’d complained before about this exact thing to the HOA, but I’d never complained directly to his face. Maybe I should have.
I hadn’t expected this reaction.
Felix hummed, like he was actually listening to me.
Like my opinion mattered. Like he even agreed with me.
“It is.” I wilted a little. “I…”
“You…?” Felix turned to look at me, dark eyes dancing. “Did you come all the way over here to tell me you hate my lawn?”
“Ah. Yes. No.” I had never felt like my skin was tighter than I did then, squirming a little despite being easily three times his size. I felt about an inch tall. “Can I…maybe…fix it?”
There. I’d done it.
Now he just had to agree and I’d have the perfect stalking opportunity every weekend.
