Page 2 of Sweeter Than Fiction
He lets out a small laugh. “It cracks me up that you are such an introvert, yet you choose to live in one of the most crowded cities on Earth.”
“New York is my home. I grew up here. As much as I hate people, the thought of going somewhere new scares me even more.”
“How about you let me set you up?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” He whines.
“Because I’m nowhere near that desperate. And I’m really in no hurry to find a boyfriend.”
“Will you at least consider it?”
I sip my wine. “Tell me why it ‘s so important to you.”
“Because I have this overwhelming fear that one day, I’m going to come to your apartment and find you dead. With a smutty book in one hand and your vibrator in the other. An open can of frosting on the coffee table. And your cats eating the flesh from your lifeless body.”
“Wow,” I stammer. “That was…detailed. Have you been binging The First 48 again?”
“Well…yes. But that’s beside the point. It’s completely possible.”
I may think his whole scenario is completely ridiculous, but a tiny inkling of a thought creeps into my mind. If God forbid something were to happen to me, how long would it take someone to find my body? Would my cats really gnaw on me if they ran out of food? Would the fire department think I was a loser freak if they saw all my yarn and my vibrator?
Oh, good lord.
“Okay, I’ll think about it.”
After finally getting Jensen’s attention off of my indefinitely lonely demise, we actually had a lovely time. As much as I despise going out, usually, when I’m with him, he’s entertaining enough to keep me calm. And he knows me well enough to know not to take me anywhere too wild. A quiet bar is plenty for me.
Any more than that, and I start to break out in hives. And this man really wants me to start dating more? The thought of that utterly terrifies me.
As I walk the short distance back to my apartment, I try to think of an excuse to get Jenson off my back about this whole dating thing.
I could tell him I think I’m a lesbian.
Nah, he’s seen how I stare at Jason Mamoa when we watch Aquaman. Plus, he probably knows more lesbians than straight guys and would try to set me up with one of them. Then, I’d have to learn how to eat pussy, and I just don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of commitment.
I step out of the elevator and make my way to my front door. As I round the corner, I see the backside of my neighbor as he unlocks his own door.
Don McDowell.
One of the most attractive men I’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s the definition of tall, dark, and handsome.
And he works for some type of construction company, so he’s got the whole rugged thing going for him.
We make small talk on occasion when we run into each other picking up our mail or riding the elevator together. He’s always been super nice despite my extreme awkwardness.
I see he’s got a model-like date accompanying him.
Another one.
He has, at minimum, a few different ones throughout the week. Sometimes, I’ll see a repeat here and there, but this one doesn’t look familiar. I’m sure I would remember her because her long legs come up to about my forehead.
She lets out a loud laugh, and I roll my eyes. If she’s a loud laugher, I can bet that she’s going to be loud in other areas too. The wall between our apartment isn’t much of a sound barrier, and I can always hear exactly how well Don’s evening is going. Some of the women are screamers. Some are moaners, and others are dirty talkers.
But the one common denominator? All of the women seem to be enjoying themselves.
I’m sure this one will be no different.
