Unexpected Lovers Box Set by J.B. Heller
“Thankyou for asking me to go with you tonight. I had a really good time,” I tell Callum as we stand in front of my building after the concert, our fingers laced together.
His shy smile appears, and his eyes flit from mine, to my lips, then back again. “Yeah, me too. Kind of wish I’d grown a pair and asked you out sooner, though,” he jokes.
I chuckle nervously because he’s fully staring at my mouth, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Is he going to go for it? I haven’t kissed a guy since Marco ditched me for Sophia when I was seventeen. What if I suck at it? Isn’t it a skill you need to practice to stay good at it?
“I’d really like to kiss you good night, Kinsley. Would that be okay?” Callum asks.
“Oh, umm …” I swallow hard. “Would you mind terribly if I said not tonight?” I answer, then at his crestfallen expression, I rush to continue, “It’s not because I don’t want to. I do. I’m just really rusty, and I, umm … I haven’t done this in a really long time. Can we take a raincheck on the kiss?”
His cheeks rise in a smile at my explanation, and he nods. “Okay. Next time, then.” He winks then drops a quick peck on the top of my head and gives my fingers a squeeze before releasing my hand. “Good night, beautiful. I’ll text you soon.”
By the time I push through the door to my apartment, my face is sore from smiling so much. I drop my keys in the bowl then lean back against the wall as I tug off my booties.
Lennon and Emory are still on the couch, and they turn to face me.
“Well, don’t you just look like the cat who got the cream,” Lennon says, grinning.
“It was really great. I had such a good time, and Callum was the perfect gentleman,” I say, coming to sit on the armchair beside the couch, hanging my legs over one arm.
At my words, Len’s grin fades. “Perfect gentleman? Well, that sucks.”
I laugh and grab a throw pillow off the floor, chucking it at her head. “He asked if he could kiss me good night, and I had a mini internal freak-out and said no. He didn’t get mad or anything—just kissed the top of my head and told me he’ll text me soon.”
Len rolls her eyes, and Em practically swoons.
“Did you at least take a picture with him so we can see the goods?” Len asks.
After digging my phone from my back pocket, I unlock it, open the gallery app, locate a selfie of Callum with his arm hooked around my shoulders in the dancing crowd, then toss it to her.
Her eyes widen at the picture on the screen. “Jesus, you didn’t mention how fuckable this guy is. Damn, Kins, I can’t believe you told him not to kiss you. He’s hot as shit.”
Emory snatches my phone from Len and gasps. “Whoa, he is gorgeous. You wouldn’t mind terribly if I added him to my jill till, would you?” She laughs.
“You two need to get laid.” I chuckle, getting to my feet and snatching my phone back.
Len snorts. “Says you. Pot, meet kettle.”
We all laugh. She’s not wrong.
“I’m hitting the shower then going to bed. I’m beat,” I tell them, blowing air kisses. I head down the short hall to my room.
I climb into bed after a quick bath to wash away the sweat I worked up dancing, tug on a pair of llama-print flannel jammie pants, fluffy socks, and a Nerdy is the New Sexy hoodie.
Plugging my cell into the charger on my bedside table, I decide it’s past time I check my Sadie e-mail account. Clicking on the e-mail app, I’m not surprised to see a new message from Atticus, sent on Monday night.
* * *
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: No can do …
Sadie-not-Sadie,
I’m afraid that’s not going to work for me.
You see, I’ve been very aware of you since the first day we shared the elevator over six months ago. So, pretending you don’t exist is not an option for me.
I really do think getting together in order for me to properly apologize is the best course of action if we’re going to avoid any unwanted awkwardness in the future. We’re bound to run into each other at some point—we do live in the same building, after all.
Just let me know when is a good time for you, and I’ll make it work.
Also, if you’d be so kind as to tell me your real name, I’d really like to stop referring to you as Sadie-not-Sadie.
Looking forward to hearing from you,
Atticus
* * *
Settling back against my pillow,a massive smile plays on my face. Despite having a good time tonight, I couldn’t shake the image of Atticus staring at me as I was leaving with Callum.
I type out an appropriate response. And by appropriate, I mean I leave out the part about his admission of his ‘awareness of me’ making me feel all tingly and a little giddy.
I re-read what I’ve written before hitting send. Switching over to my Audible app, I set the sleep timer and hit play on Aleatha Romig’s Plus One, then return my phone to my bedside table and settle down to sleep.
Surprise surgesthrough me when my phone chimes, indicating a new e-mail has just landed in my inbox, and the preview shows it’s from Sadie-not-Sadie.
I read it immediately, unable to leave it until morning despite it being near midnight. I’ve been waiting to hear from her all week.
* * *
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Stalky McStalkerpants
Mr. Blaine,
You’re not doing a very good job of convincing me of your non-stalker status right now. So, again, I must decline your offer to apologize in person.
I don’t think there will be any more awkward run-ins as I have successfully avoided you, with the exception of this evening, for almost two weeks. I’m sure I can continue to do so. Don’t underestimate my desire to avoid further humiliation.
Moving forward, I believe it would be best for both of us if you developed selective blindness should you happen to see me, and I will do the same.
Also, I’d prefer if you didn’t refer to—or think of—me at all. In any way. Ever again. Therefore, my name is inconsequential.
Sadie
* * *
I grinand shake my head. She thinks I’m going to let it go that easily? Not a chance. I’m even more entranced by her now than I was before. I don’t simply want to apologize; I want to get to know her. Unwrap her layer by layer until I’ve got her figured out.
Saturday morning,I wake right in the middle of an epically sexy dream starring Kylo Ren from Star Wars, which immediately puts me in a bad mood. I’m so sexually frustrated it’s not funny. Lately, I’ve been waking up right before the good stuff goes down, every single time.
Reaching into the top drawer of my bedside table, I dig around until my fingers curl around my mini bullet. Grabbing my cell, I go to pull up some porn on my phone but get sidetracked by my e-mail app. For some ridiculous reason, I click on the icon.
There’s a response from Atticus …
* * *
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Still not a stalker
Sadie-not-Sadie,
Just because I find you incredibly attractive does not, in any way, make me a stalker. I don’t even know what apartment you live in. If I am, in fact, stalking you, I’m doing a pretty shoddy job of it, if I do say so myself. I know very little about you, except that you live on the seventh floor and like to sideline as an erotic cleaner.
I have so many questions. So many. Not the least of which is what your real name is.
You are extremely intriguing. I would never in a million years have guessed that you, the woman I shared the elevator with, and Miss Sadie are the same person had I not seen that tattoo.
In no way do I wish to humiliate or embarrass you. I would, however, like to get to know you. So, I’m going to go ahead and ignore your selective blindness suggestion.
I suspected you had been avoiding me, but thank you for the confirmation. I will now go out of my way to change my schedule in hopes of foiling your avoidance attempts.
See you soon,
Atticus
* * *
Holy shitballs.
I’m not sure what part to fixate on first. I mean, there’s just so much to take in.
He finds me ‘incredibly attractive.’ He wants to ‘get to know me.’ He thinks I’m ‘extremely intriguing.’
What am I supposed to say to all that? I have no freaking idea! It’s time to call in back-up.
I execute a ninja-like roll out of bed, land on my feet, then dash down the hall to Lennon’s room, banging my fist on Emory’s door on my way past.
Throwing myself on top of Len’s mountain of blankets, I yell, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” like a child trying to wake their parents.
She blindly swats at me. “Go away. It’s Saturday.”
Emory pokes her head in. “What’s going on? You better have a really good reason for waking me up before lunch on the weekend,” she says, coming to lie on the bed beside me.
“I do,” I promise. I hand her my phone with the e-mail thread displayed on the screen.
“Holy crap, what the hell, Kins? You’ve been holding out on us again?” Em accuses, sitting up against Lennon’s headboard, eyes on the screen.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Not really. I told you guys he e-mailed me at the start of the week. Those others I got when I went to bed last night and this morning. What do I even say to all that?”
Lennon sits up and snatches my phone from Emory.
“Hey, I was reading that!” Em complains.
Len shuffles over so they’re squished side by side then holds the phone between them so they can read the e-mails together.
A few minutes pass with me getting more and more nervous. Em’s expression morphs from concentration to dreamy, and a wicked smile curves Len’s lips.
“So …” I ask.
Lennon is the first to speak. “Oh, it is so on.”
Emory nods. “Like Donkey Kong, girl.”
“What does that even mean?” I whine then wave my hand at my phone. “What am I supposed to do with all that?”
* * *
After talkingit out with my girls, I come up with a solid response to Atticus’s e-mail. At least, I think it’s solid. I’m still not one hundred percent sold on it, but Emory and Lennon assure me this is the way to go.
So, with a deep breath and a silent prayer that this is the best thing to do, I hit send.
