Elijah
S.
Why had he done that? Now I was trying to figure out what his name was, or if the letter stood for something else, and if he shared that letter with other people who emailed him for advice, or what.
It was making me lose my damn mind. Steve, Sam, Shawn or Sean, the possibilities were endless and also not something I should care about.
It could have been an accident, which was what had happened when I mentioned Raving Ramen. I hadn’t even thought about it until after he stopped replying, when I was obsessively reading our emails.
Maybe he’d given me the S because I’d given him the D, which obviously made me laugh as soon as I thought it because I had, in fact, not fucked him and I preferred to be on the receiving end of the D, though I did give it from time to time.
Not that I would be having sex with S.
Ever.
He probably lived somewhere like LA, anyway. He sounded like a Los Angeles guy. Well, what I assumed Los Angeles guys sounded like.
There really was no reason for me to continue thinking about him. S—Anon—wasn’t who I should be thinking about. No, that was Danny.
I’d tossed Anon’s advice over and over in my brain. I wasn’t the type of guy who liked to play games. It was…well, sort of gross, especially when it was with your best friend. But I also couldn’t breathe and felt like I was having a heart attack any time I thought about telling Danny how I felt, so I was fucked—not in the receiving-of-the-D way either.
I spent the day working and trying not to think about Danny or S.
Tonight was the “It’s Almost Summer Bash” at our apartment complex, which really meant, let’s make up a random reason to have a party. Whatever. It worked. Unfortunately, it was raining, because the weather didn’t seem to care we were going to have an outdoor party, so it had been moved into the common room, downstairs. Usually Danny went with me and Brooklyn, but they both happened to work, which meant I was going solo. I wasn’t real big on solo, but eh, what could you do?
I went downstairs. The room was already fairly busy. Seemed like most everyone had gotten there before me. There were a few couches and chairs along the walls, round tables throughout the middle of the room, both normal and high-top style. Lizzo played through the speakers, and there was a cash bar, which reminded me why I loved my apartment complex so much. Actually, I’d love it more if the drinks were free.
I made my way to the bar. There were about eight people in front of me, and within five seconds of being there, someone was behind me.
“Hey, neighbor!” Shaw said. Ugh. Because of course it had to be him. “Where’s your crew?”
I rolled my eyes. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a crew.” Though the idea of Danny and Brooklyn being my crew was cool.
“Simmer down. I didn’t mean anything by it. I usually see you with Danny and Brooklyn, is all.”
I frowned. I didn’t know he knew their names. “You know Danny and Brooklyn?”
“Yeah. I see Brooklyn in the elevator sometimes. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we live in the same building. I saw Danny at a gay bar one night, and I recognized him from going back and forth to your place, so I introduced myself.”
Wait. Shaw saw Danny at the bar and they spoke? A sharp pain slammed into my chest. Shaw had men and women going in and out of his apartment like…like he was some famous guy who got lots of ass. What if Danny and Shaw had hooked up?
Oh God… What the fuck. What if Shaw was the guy? Danny’s guy. I knew he wasn’t looking for anything serious, and…fuck, I couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t I breathe?
“Are you okay?” Shaw’s brows pulled together as I forced myself to calm down. Danny knew Shaw was my neighbor. He knew Shaw drove me crazy. He wouldn’t hook up with him, and he definitely would have told me if he had, or if Shaw was the guy.
I think… No. I knew he would.
“Nothing. I’m fine.” I shook my head. We got up to the counter, and I ordered a vodka Sprite.
“Make that two,” Shaw added. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
What was he trying to do here? This strange wave of competitiveness pulled me under. “You don’t need to buy me a drink. It’s cool. I’ll buy you one.”
Shaw winked. “Okay.”
Oh, fuck him. He was so cocky! He knew exactly what he was doing. Not that I thought he had played that whole thing to get me to buy him a drink, but he’d agreed easily because then it felt like he got to me more than I got to him, the bastard.
The bartender handed us drinks, and I paid. There was an empty high-top table not far away, so I headed toward it, Shaw at my heels.
When I stopped and set my glass down, he did the same, so I said, “Are we hanging out now?”
He shrugged. “Sure, if you want.”
How in the hell did he do that? He always turned shit around on me. I hated this guy. Hate, hate, hate. Unfortunately, he was also sexy as hell, not that I’d ever tell him that. His skin was this perfect sun-kissed color—like he tanned, but not too much, or he’d just been lucky to look like he tanned but never had to. I’d always had a thing for guys who were taller than me, like he was—with dark, messy hair, the prettiest green eyes, thick lashes, and face structure that looked like it had been carved. He had a killer jawline, that always seemed to have the right amount of scruff along it. And his cheekbones, God his cheekbones were a work of art.
“I don’t get why you’re so cocky,” I told him.
“Why do you care if I am or not?” he countered, which was annoying as shit. Questions answered with questions weren’t high on my list of favorites.
“I don’t care. It’s just…annoying.”
Surprisingly, he shrugged and smiled. “Yeah, I’m oddly fascinated with you too. We don’t know each other. We’ve never hung out. You don’t like me, though. It’s similar to those kids on the playground. When they have a crush on someone, they pretend they don’t like them. That’s the only thing I can come up with when it comes to you.”
“What?” I nearly spit out my drink. “I don’t have a crush on you, and I’m not oddly fascinated with you. Maybe you are with me, but it’s not a two-way street.”
Something about this conversation was eerily familiar. It felt like one I’d have with Anon…with S… Noooooo! That would be too big a coincidence. Nope. I wasn’t even entertaining that idea. It was absurd.
“Sure. Whatever you say,” Shaw replied.
“Who even says stuff like that? Who tells a person who they like? You’re not my type.”
“Okay, if you insist. I’m just saying you have really strong feelings about me when you don’t actually know me.”
He had a point there. I didn’t get him. The overconfidence, the hookups, the insanely good looks. “Who’s the one always trying to talk to me?”
“Well, I hope it’s not you. I mean, everyone talks to themselves sometimes, but the way you made it sound…”
“Ha. Ha.” I rolled my eyes at Shaw. Shaw. S. But there were a million possibilities with the letter S. I would literally…hell, I didn’t know what I would do if it was him, but it wouldn’t be pretty, and it might include never leaving my apartment again.
“So your crew had to work?” Shaw asked before taking a drink.
“Yeah, and what about you? You always have that guy over. I don’t know his name. You have a person too.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Something about the softness of his reply, the affection in his words, was completely different. I’d never heard Shaw sound like that before. Not that I spent a whole lot of time having deep conversations with the guy, but still. “Oh, wow. That sounded almost…sweet. Maybe there’s a little more between the two of you.”
A laugh jumped out of Shaw’s mouth. It seemed to surprise him too, and it was obvious my little joke was far off.
“No, no. If you’re insinuating I have romantic feelings for my best friend, you couldn’t be further off. First, I have zero plans on settling down with anyone. Second, falling for your best friend is a mistake. There are too many complications, not to mention the fear of telling someone how you feel. Third, if I did, and as I said, I don’t, I would tell him, and then he would let me know he feels the same because duh, me.”
My pulse plummeted. The world stopped. Or not but it felt like it to me. Everything Shaw said sounded too familiar. It was him.
My hands shook, so I shoved them under the table. My vision went blurry, and my head started spinning, and oh Lord. I was gonna pass out. Was I really going to pass out? If I did, would he know why? Forget that it made no sense. It was exactly where my brain went, and then another thought hit me—did he know I was ILWMBF? Because this was him. It had to be him even though the odds were supposed to be impossible, and how in the hell had this happened?
“Elijah?” Shaw frowned with what looked like worry turning his lips down and wrinkling the corners of his eyes. He was concerned, and we didn’t do that. I didn’t like him, and I didn’t like Anon either, though I sort of did with Anon, but I really, really couldn’t like Shaw. This shit was fucked up.
And it couldn’t be him. I refused to believe it was. “I’m fine, just…not feeling real great. So, what did you do last night?” Maybe he would say he was out all night and then I’d know it couldn’t have been him.
His frown deepened. “I think that’s the first time you’ve asked me something like that. And not much. I didn’t have sex, if that’s what you’re wondering. Well, not with anyone other than myself. Oh, and I had ravioli from that little place down the…”
That was all I heard. There was static in my ears that kept getting louder. Anon—S—spoke and flirted and had an abnormally large head, exactly like Shaw. S had mentioned Italian last night. The guy had come to my door by mistake. I’d opened the door, but he’d waved me off, saying it was the wrong apartment. I’d been too busy thinking about Danny to consider that the delivery guy had come to my place, and S had Italian too. In my defense, who in the hell could have seen this coming? It should have been impossible.
How in the fuck was it him?
“You don’t look so good. I think you need to go lie down. Here, let me help you.” Shaw came toward me, and I shook my head and held up my hand, so he stopped. The consent was awesome, but I couldn’t even let myself think about that in the moment.
My annoying neighbor was S. I was going to die.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” I said before I ran away, tail between my legs, planning to never speak to S or see Shaw ever again.