Home > What If You & Me (Say Everything #2)(5)

What If You & Me (Say Everything #2)(5)
Author: Roni Loren

   He lifted his head, wiped the water from his face, and took a deep breath, feeling better now that he’d come up with a plan of action and had shaken off the weird feelings the conversation with Andi had left him with. Nothing had changed. He didn’t need to worry about it. He met his neighbor. No big deal.

   But as he settled down into bed that night, instead of being plagued by nightmares of fiery buildings collapsing around him like usual, he was plagued by dreams of fiery redheads.

   He woke up in a sweat and didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

   ***

   Andi weaved her way through the first floor of WorkAround, the coworking space where she spent her weekdays, feeling the ripple of energy from all those clicking keyboards. She adored the bottom floor of the building with its tall windows lining the back wall, the exposed red brick and ductwork, and the soaring ceilings. But what she loved more was that this floor was where the hot desks were located—desks that people could rent for a few hours or days. That meant a regularly rotating mix of interesting people, which was like candy for her extroverted self. On any given day, she could chat with a musician, an actor, a book blogger, a journalist, a day trader, a visual artist. The list went on and on.

   People were endlessly fascinating to her, and though she knew the stereotype of a writer was someone alone in an attic room, her writer brain needed people. How was she supposed to come up with interesting characters if she never met any interesting people? So each morning, she made a point to stop by a few of the hot desks and make small talk—“desk” really meaning “any solid flat surface you can place a laptop on” because the floor was dotted with blue, yellow, and gray couches, cafe tables, and boxy chairs. But today she breezed past most of them with only a few waves or smiles of acknowledgment toward people she already knew. She had pastries to deliver.

   She headed to the stairwell next to the in-house coffee bar and made her way up to the second floor, where she rented space. She passed the podcasting and video rooms, cruised past her own office, and then knocked on a door at the end of the hall.

   “Come in,” her friend Hollyn called out.

   Andi opened the door and slipped inside, the library quiet of Hollyn’s office a stark contrast to the flurry on the first floor. She set a narrow black canister and a grease-stained bag from the bakery on her friend’s desk and plopped in a chair. “Mornin’, rock star. I come bearing gifts.”

   Hollyn glanced over from the entertainment article she was working on, her nose wrinkling a few times in a facial tic that Andi had gotten so used to, she barely noticed anymore. “Ooh, presents.” Hollyn examined the offerings on the desk and tucked her lion’s mane of curly blond hair behind her ears. “Well, I can guess what’s in the bag. I can smell a cinnamon roll from a hundred yards away. But what’s this?”

   Hollyn picked up the black canister and turned it over in her hand.

   “Gel pepper spray. A firefighter friend of mine says it’s the best, better than the normal stuff because it doesn’t blow back in your face.” Andi opened the bag and pulled out one of the cinnamon rolls she’d picked up from Levee Baking Co. on her way in this morning. One of the bonuses of renting an office at WorkAround, besides being able to have actual coworkers in a job where she normally would be stuck alone, was that she had NOLA’s endless supply of restaurants at her fingertips when she was craving something yummy. “I thought you should have one, too. You know, you can protect you and Jasper if you two are ever attacked.”

   Hollyn laughed. “You don’t trust Jasper to be the action hero?”

   Andi smirked at the thought of Hollyn’s adorable improv-actor fiancé attempting any sort of violence. The guy would lay down his life for Hollyn, no doubt, but Andi couldn’t picture him in a fight. “He would probably be able to talk a criminal out of robbing you guys.”

   Hollyn set the canister next to her bag, which she’d left on the back corner of her desk. “I wouldn’t put it past him, but I’ll keep this in my purse in case negotiations don’t work out. Thank you.”

   “Of course.”

   Hollyn pulled her cinnamon roll out of the bag and grabbed two napkins from her desk drawer, handing one to Andi. “I didn’t know you had a firefighter friend.”

   Andi spread the napkin on her lap and unrolled a piece of the cinnamon roll. “He’s my new neighbor. I met him unexpectedly over the weekend.”

   Hollyn licked a glob of frosting from her fingertip and grimaced, but Andi knew the grimace was her friend’s Tourette’s acting up and not her opinion of the pastry.

   “I love that you meet someone once and you call them a friend,” Hollyn said. “There’s like a ten-step application process and a gauntlet to make it through to get that designation from me.”

   Andi grinned as she swallowed her bite of dough. “Ha. Well, I feel honored to have been accepted into your circle of the chosen few. I have my own tests. Neighbor dude has only passed the preliminary quiz. I’m not inviting him over for grilled cheese or anything. But his pepper-spray advice was solid. I googled.”

   Hollyn watched her for a moment, chewing, her eye twitching a little. “Does he live alone?”

   Andi shrugged. “I assume so. He wasn’t wearing a ring.” She frowned. When had she even noticed that? Her subconscious must’ve been taking notes. “Plus, I’ve only heard his big feet traipsing around over there.”

   “Big feet. Interesting.” Hollyn’s gaze took on a mischievous look. “Young guy? Old guy?”

   Andi thought back to the other night. She’d been so freaked out to see anyone on her doorstep at that hour, and then taken aback by her body’s reaction to Hill, that she hadn’t thought about what his age might be. “Not old. Older than us but like, I don’t know, late twenties, early thirties? He had that old-soul look like he’d seen some stuff. But that’s not surprising if he’s a firefighter.”

   Hollyn’s brow lifted. “Old soul, huh? Is he cute?”

   Andi scrunched her nose, the question catching her off guard, and she forced another bite of cinnamon roll down. Was he cute? Cute was not a word she’d use for him. There was nothing “cute” about that serious face, those wide shoulders, and that deep voice. Sexy, yes. Hot, for sure. Her fantasy from the other night flashed through her mind, and warmth rushed to her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “I guess. If you like the big, bearded, dark, and broody type.”

   “Please God, don’t let that be her type,” said a voice from the doorway.

   Andi turned, finding Hollyn’s fiancé, Jasper, leaning against the doorjamb with an amused look on his face.

   He stepped inside, adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses, and then spread his arms, Hulk-style, trying to widen his lean frame. “But if it is, I can be beefcake.”

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