Not My Neighbor by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Seven

Krystal

“What were you two whispering about?” I ask Blake as he hands me back my phone, clearing his throat a little.

“Oh, you know. Guy stuff,” he says with a smug look on his face.

I feel my heart in my throat, suddenly wondering if Blake’s said anything to dad.

I mean, I practically, almost just about nearly made a pass at him before the phone rang.

Didn’t I?

Blake doesn’t seem fazed and only smiles wider when he senses my internal dilemma. Like he has a big secret that only he knows about.

I don’t like secrets, but that’s something else that Blake proves me wrong with.

Looking into his shining dark eyes and then feeling my own widen again as I take in his body stretching out the black T-shirt he’s put on.

I forgive myself for almost forgetting about what just nearly happened between us.

I wasn’t imagining it and I still feel that deep need inside me, so I do something I’ve never done.

I just come straight out and ask him about it.

Sort of.

Kind of.

I strongly hint at what almost just happened.

“How’s dad?” I ask trying to sound innocent. “Worried about leaving his only daughter alone with an older man?”

I’m trying to sound sexy, like Blake does naturally but when I try it comes out sounding sarcastic.

“He’s fine. Busy though by the sounds of it,” Blake answers coolly.

He seems to overlook my attempts at flirting if that’s what you’d call it and I’m loath to make another attempt just now.

“I’m thinking,” he announces after he finishes making the coffee I started, and slides a mug across the counter towards me.

I pick it up and take a gulp, eager to have something wet in my mouth but regretting it instantly, scalding my lips and tongue instead.

“Yeah?” I squeak, trying to cover my pain but dying to know exactly what Blake’s got on his mind.

“That I need a new wardrobe. Clothes, I mean,” he says with finality.

I feel my shoulders drop, sucking some air in to try and cool my mouth.

“Oh,” I murmur. “I thought you were having your luggage sent on?” I ask, trying to sound interested but thinking maybe he really is just overtired or whatever it could be that would make an older guy inches away from kissing a younger girl suddenly lose interest and suggest buying clothes instead.

I don’t think a phone call from dad would’ve helped.

True.

“Who was at the door?” I ask, changing the subject. Hoping if I just leave it a while we can pick up right where we left off before being interrupted.

“Oh, uh. Just a delivery,” he says, moving into the living room and returning with a small parcel.

“For you,” he says and I think maybe it’s a gift for some reason.

Something from Blake just for me.

I flush with emotion, debating whether to hug him or not. To say thank you at least, when I see my name and address on the box.

“The courier dropped it off,” Blake says, studying my reaction with interest, seeming to hang on my every expression as it registers that it’s just something I bought online.

“Aren’t you gonna open it?” he asks, frowning in reply to my pout.

Something I wasn’t aware I still did until just now.

I used to do it a lot when I was younger.

When I didn’t get my own way or just felt like I do now.

Hopeless and missing out on something I’m sure was coming my way.

Something in the shape of Blake Mason, kissing me.

On the lips.

“It’s just some stupid online thing,” I mumble, wanting to toss it somewhere like the trash.

I suddenly feel like going home, like all this is too hard and maybe, just maybe this really is me reading a little too much into the situation after all.

“Open it,” Blake says, smiling and giving me such an impish look I can’t stay mad, not even at myself for acting out in front of him.

“Open,” he says slower, teasing me with his voice as well as his eyes now.

I cave in, and ripping the small box open, I nearly die when I realize what it is.

It’s not the package I thought it was.

It’s the underwear I ordered online.

Big, ugly granny panties for when I have my period.

Horrified, I squeeze the box shut again, turning redder than a tomato could ever be, wishing the ground would open and swallow me up.

“What is it?” Blake asks again. “Why won’t you show me?” he teases, moving to snatch the box but I yank it away from him.

“It’s none of your damned business is what,” I shout, feeling my hair come loose and hearing my breath hot and quick after I snarl at him.

His face falls in a second. He looks hurt and then recovers himself.

“Sorry, Krystal. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just fooling around,” he says softly. Slowly.

Like a mature adult would.

Like a real man does.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he adds, creasing his mouth and moving over to the sink, giving me time to stow the box or do whatever it is he thinks I might need a moment for.

There’s a long silence, save for the faucet running as he rinses his mug.

I wrinkle my nose and twist my mouth as I think for a second.

“Here,” I murmur, opening the box and holding up a pair, unfolding them so he can see everything.

I know they’re the right size but even I’m a little astonished at how big they look.

“My granny panties. For when I have my period,” I tell him point blank, expecting him to laugh or be grossed out. Wishing I could laugh, even just to break the tension of the moment.

Things were going so well until just now.

But he doesn’t laugh, and he doesn’t make a face. He doesn’t say anything horrible or unkind at all.

“You find stuff okay online?” he asks, genuinely interested. “I can’t get what I want in stores or online, have to have pretty much everything made to measure I’m so…”

“Big?” I offer, letting my eyes wander again, scrunching up my undies and stuffing them back in the box, but I catch his eyes following them.

I shrug, feeling awkward now. “I guess they fit. Kind of having them comfy is the whole point,” I add and he nods thoughtfully.

“Like I was saying,” he continues, not missing a beat. “I was thinking about doing some shopping of my own. Maybe you could help me out with another ride?” he asks, and I ask him about his own car.

Forgetting all about my embarrassment in a microsecond.

“In the shop. Long story,” he says, rolling his eyes and thumbing towards the kitchen window.

I see his point straight away. “Is that the loaner they gave you or a spare car?” I ask, noting how much smaller it is than my dad’s car.

“Loaner,” he sighs and that settles it. I’ll take him shopping. I’ll do anything if it means being around him a little longer.

I find it hard to believe he has all his clothes in a suitcase in transit somewhere, but seeing him in his suit pants and a T-shirt strikes me as something he wouldn’t usually wear at home let alone out.

“I thought you had everything tailored?” I ask him, wondering how he could just ‘shop’ for that sort of thing.

“My guy’s good,” he replies instantly. “He keeps a lot of things ready to go, only takes him a minute to throw together some outfits. I use him all the time,” he adds.

“Sounds pricey,” I add, thinking out loud and making Blake laugh quietly.

My stomach groans and I realize maybe why I’ve been a little more emotional than usual.

“We’ll get dinner too,” Blake informs me, a matter of fact.

When he’s like this he doesn’t sound rude or arrogant at all.

It’s almost like he’s just reading the world, like a manual or a set of instructions, dictating what’s going to happen next.

“Maybe we could eat first,” I suggest, feeling like I’ll fade if I have to sit through hours of a man getting tailored outfits made up.

“I’ll call the tailor on the way, just duck in and then we’ll eat. How about it?” he asks, and I feel an instant compromise.

“Sounds perfect,” I almost sigh, unable to take my eyes off his chest in that damned T-shirt, wondering why he can’t just stay wearing that and maybe nothing else.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” he asks me with his trademark intensity, guaranteed to make me shiver. “About being mine for the day?”

I nod without hesitation, wanting to add ‘and all night,’ but I think we’re a little way off from that just yet.

And not because of Blake Mason. No Sir.

It’s me who’s trembling in my boots, from sheer excitement with just a touch of still pinching myself.