Page 51 of Resisting the Grump

Put on what’s in the package and we’ll call it even. Just kidding. But I must confess I did open it by accident. I didn’t try it on or anything, but considering the suggestive nature of the contents, I am somewhat embarrassed by my error.

Number Eight

Ps—you’re welcome about the light and the door.

I wasn’t sure why I was writing like a robot, but I did owe her a formal apology for invading her privacy. And I was happy to take credit for fixing that stuff. Made no difference to the handyman, and I was trying to woo this girl.

The following morning I woke up to a note that said, “That’s great news. Just leave it on my mat and back away slowly, thanks. And maybe don’t open my mail again.”

I left it outside her door as soon as the coast was clear, and for a moment, I felt like I’d gotten away with something. But the feeling didn’t last. It couldn’t. Because we were going out Friday, and I was going to tell her the truth. The whole truth. Or at least, the half I hadn’t told her.

I live on the sixth floor… in this building

I live on the sixth floor… next door to you.

I live on the sixth floor… and I’m the guy who fixed the light.

I live on the sixth floor and… and I want to keep seeing you.

I live on the sixth floor… and I should’ve told you sooner.

Whatever. I had all week to practice in the mirror and find the right words. The light words. So we could laugh about it and get back to falling for each other.

Because if I fucked this up, I’d never forgive myself.

She was the kind of woman you could put a ring on, and in my experience, they didn’t come around all that often. So what if we got off on the wrong foot?

She’d forget all about it as soon as I swept her off her feet… right?

T W E N T YS E V E N

- Avery -

Things were really looking up.

I had a sexy new boy toy. Or rather, a sexy new man toy. Then again, maybe I was the toy in this budding relationship? Whatever. All I knew was that just thinking about the rapture he took in treating me like a raunchy rag doll made me hot.

Or maybe it was the fact that all six ovens were on.

Regardless, on top of having been on top of Oliver, I’d finally recovered my missing package and patched things up somewhat amicably with my neighbor. Sure, he believed I was a woman named Elaine who smelled like berries below the belt, but so what? I had no intention of crossing his path again, least of all because it would be unbearably awkward. I wasn’t ashamed of my sexual appetite, but I certainly wasn’t proud of my foul first impression. Or my sordid second impression. Or my terrible third…

If only I’d brought him a stupid pie in the first place.

Fortunately, I was optimistic that some better-late-than-never cupcakes would suffice. And if they didn’t, I’d be too busy enjoying the extras I made for myself to notice. Not only had Grace taught me how to make them so chocolatey you hear angels singing without your ears ringing, but my decorating skills were really coming along. Granted, kitty faces weren’t that challenging, but if the grouch next door had a cat, they were guaranteed to make him smile. Cat people loved cat shit.

Well, maybe not literally, but… Oh no. What if he thought I was trying to be suggestive? I mean, even if his mind wasn’t as filthy as mine, I could see how he’d make the leap. Two seconds after he returns my smutty self-care package, I leave lickable pussies outside his door. Did he even know I knew he had a cat? It’s not like he was privy to the fact that I’d scrutinized his personal stuff when it was strewn about the hall.

I took a deep breath before exhaling slowly to calm my racing mind and come to terms with the fact that it was too late to change course. Going full circus and throwing some other animals into the mix wasn’t an option. I knew from experience that my designs ended in disaster when I got too ambitious. So I wasn’t going to overthink it and hopefully he wouldn’t either. The cats were cute. He had one. And if he was anything like most men I knew, he’d eat every cupcake in two bites and be done with it.

I set the best orange kitties aside for Oliver, hoping he absolutely would think I was being suggestive. Then I considered the note I’d leave for the guy in number eight while I continued carefully drawing whiskers.

“Sorry I was a bitch to you. I was mad at men and the moon made me do it.”

“I apologize for being a bad neighbor. I don’t have a lot of childhood trauma to blame stuff on, so I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

“Please forgive me for being uncharitable. I forgot that it’s God’s job to judge you, not mine.”

Hmmm.

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