“I knew it,” he says. “You did see me out there.”
“You saw me in the car?”
“I might have noticed you checking me out.”
The way he leans against the mailbox and smiles makes me forget what we were just arguing about. I almost forgive him for being so loud, but I decide I can’t let him off the hook that easily.
I poke him in the chest. “Quit changing the subject. I want to know what you do upstairs that makes so much noise.”
“How about I tell you over breakfast?”
I’m caught off guard by his invitation. My heart speeds up, hammering away in my chest. I want to say yes, but I also want to wash the sand out of my hair and get a few hours of sleep.
“I can’t. I just got home. I need to feed my, uh, my plant.”
He tilts his head, his smile still teasing the corner of his lips. “Is that the best you can come up with?”
“I barely got any sleep on the plane,” I say. “Plus, I was at the beach all day yesterday. I probably smell so bad.” I give my armpit a quick whiff to drive home my point, though to my surprise, I find that I don’t actually smell that bad.
“I just ran three miles,” he says. “If either of us stinks, everyone will assume it’s me.”
After having just collided with him, I can confirm that he doesn’t stink either. I’m quiet for a moment while I try to think of another excuse. My stomach chooses that moment to growl.
He looks down at my stomach, then meets my eyes again. “Hungry?”
“Fine,” I say, unable to fight my smile anymore. “But I need to put my things away first.”
He waits in the lobby while I run upstairs to put my backpack and my mail in my apartment. I give myself a quick spray of perfume just in case I’m nose-blind to my own smell. When I come back down, he’s talking to Joel. He turns and smiles at me as I come out of the stairwell. His eyes wander down my body and back up again as I come near. I hold my breath, my heart racing. I don’t know why it feels so good to be looked at like that when a few minutes ago I was cursing his noisy existence. My mind must not be functioning properly. I blame all the sun I got yesterday.
Joel eyes me warily. I wonder if he disapproves of me going out with someone who lives in the building.
“Have you been to the Spanish diner down the street?” Jake asks when I reach him.
“Yeah, it’s good. Let’s go there.”
He holds the door open for me as I pass through. As we walk toward the diner, I notice that he’s watching me. I turn my head to see what he’s looking at. His eyes are trailing from my shoulders, down my arms to my hands.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
He reaches over and grabs my arm, holding it out in front of himself to get a better look. When his hand comes in contact with mine, I feel like an addict getting her fix. I suck in a breath, hoping he can’t feel my pulse through my wrist.
“You’re pink,” he says, examining my arm.
It takes me a second to be able to speak. I clear my throat. “I might have gotten a little too much sun yesterday.”
“It’s easy to do when the air is cooler. It doesn’t feel like you’re burning.” He lowers my arm, but doesn’t let go of my hand. His fingers intertwine with mine, making me forget what we’re talking about for a moment. All I can focus on is the touch of his skin on mine. It sends a pulse through my body like I’ve been hit with a wave of electricity.
“I should have known better,” I say, pulling my focus back up to his face. “I’m going to have to pack on the makeup at work to cover this up.”
“I disagree. I think pink is a good look for you.”
I laugh. “Thanks, but it’s not a good look on camera. I don’t want to scare my viewers.”
“I think you would have to try a lot harder if you wanted to scare people.”
We reach the diner. He lets go of my hand to hold the door open for me. I find myself wishing that the doors were automatic, or that I had an excuse to grab his hand again once we’re through the doorway. A waitress greets us at the door. I notice that her eyes move over his body, a dazed smile on her face. I don’t blame her for checking him out. I look up at him to see his reaction, but his eyes are on me. His hand lands on my back as the waitress leads us to a booth at the back of the restaurant. It’s the only thing I can focus on for the few seconds that it takes to reach our table.
We’re the only two people here this early. He sits down across from me. The table is small, and his leg bumps mine underneath. Neither of us moves out of the way. He settles his knee against mine. The contact sends a tingle that starts where our knees touch, all the way up to the top of my thigh.
