Chapter 12
The rays from the street lamp shine into the kitchen as I slip out of my sweater. I prop my hip up against the kitchen counter and sort through the mail.
Mine.
Mine.
Not mine.
Mine.
Not mine.
Not mine.
Not mine.
I used to think that our mailman is blind, but now, I think that he either can’t read or he just doesn’t give a fuck whose house he delivers which mail to. Regardless, he has a serious problem because half of the mail that pops up in my mailbox doesn’t belong to me. I constantly find myself running around Thornbush Lane delivering letters to their rightful addressees.
Not tonight, though. I’ll deal with the mail in the morning.
I drop the envelopes that don’t belong to me into a pile on the kitchen table, grab a frozen pizza out of the freezer and shove it into the microwave. While my dinner warms up, I turn on my computer, hoping hoping hoping that someone somewhere has invited me for a job interview. I know the economy is bad but I’m desperate now. I’ve gone four months without a job and I’m not eating freezer-burned pizza by choice. I’m quickly blowing through the severance pay I received when I lost my job.
Next resort? Max out my credit cards. Not a good look.
The microwave dings, informing me that my pizza is now scalding hot and soggy. I pout as I take it, along with the newspaper sitting next to the mail and head over to the kitchen table.
I open my email. Nope — no job leads here.
Sigh.
Meanwhile, my hard-earned certified internal auditor designation sits and wastes away in a drawer.
I browse the major job search websites again and leave a few applications but it really doesn’t look promising. Just as I’m about to send in a final resume, my phone dings on the table next to me.
It’s Keeland.
I’m still so annoyed that he showed up at the community center today. He deliberately scheduled his art workshop to coincide with my math tutoring. It’s bad enough that he’s in the house next door every single day. I’ve even started doing my meditation in the basement just to avoid him. Now, do I have to avoid the community center, too?
This whole Keeland’s-back-in-town thing is starting to be too much.
I want nothing to do with him but the fact that he caught me ogling him through my bedroom blinds like a damn idiot the other day did nothing to convince him of that.
I grumble under my breath as I grab for my phone and check his message.
Keeland: Sammie…
I can almost hear him saying my name in that teasing, sing-song way of his.
Sammie: WHAT?
I’m not sure that response conveys the level of annoyance I feel. So when it takes him a few minutes to respond, I send him a couple of question marks and some exclamation points to speed things along.
His next message makes me tingle all over.
Keeland: I want to come over. To play…
A sharp reaction pulses at my core. My cheeks blaze. My pulse hammers. I am all hot and bothered.
Dammit!
I’m done being taunted by him.
He thinks he's so irresistible, flaunting his hotness all around, teasing me facetiously, making me lose my damn mind. But I’ll show him.
I’m not just his best friend's innocent kid sister, a little girl he can just toy around with for shits and giggles. I'm all grown-up now. I'm gonna make him want me. I’m gonna make his balls turn cobalt blue. And one thing’s for sure – he will never have the privilege of getting his hands on my body.
I pick up my phone and tap across the screen.
Sammie: Meet me at the bedroom window.
I grin to myself as I hit ‘send’.
I’ll teach him a lesson.
I'll show him. I’ll SHOW him.