Page 3 of Grayson

As I unlock my door and barge inside still feeling irritable, I stumble, almost face-planting in the middle of my living room.

“God dammit!” Looking back I see the familiar bag in the middle of the floor. The same offensive bright blue nylon that has triggered a near death experience on so many occasions. Tori’s book bag that she dropped to the floor the second she entered the apartment is now tipped over on its side.

Counting to five I push off the wall I had braced myself on and look down at the floor, my foot still tangled in the strap of the bright blue nylon. “Tori.” I try to keep my voice calm as I bend down, unhooking my ankle and picking up the bag. “Tori,” I yell a little louder this time, knowing she isn’t going to hear me over the loud music, but not letting it stop me from screaming anyway.

Just one day I’d like to experience uninterrupted joy. Just one!

I pound on her bedroom door, and after a few seconds her music is turned down and she opens her door. “What?”

I don’t answer but instead lift her bag out before me and she glances down. A few silent seconds pass between us and then she lifts her gaze to meet mine once more.

“Shitty day?”

“Language, Tori,” I huff, knowing there is nothing I can do with her sailor mouth. I swear she is a twenty-five-year-old trapped in a fourteen-year-old’s body. Turning around I walk back toward the kitchen, grabbing the items for dinner from the refrigerator.

“I know you aren’t pissed about the bag alone, so what is it? Does your new job suck ass?”

Rolling my eyes, I grab a pan and fill it with water to boil the noodles.

“Are the women there bitches?”

“Will you stop cussing, please?”

“Okay fine.” She flops down on the chair at our small kitchen table with mismatched chairs. “Are the women you work with rude and unfriendly?” I try not to laugh at how polite she is attempting to be sarcasm oozing off of her in waves. Tori has one mood, blunt and unfiltered.

“Work was amazing, better than I expected.”

“Okay, so then why the mood?”

I continue to busy myself, placing the pot on the stove so it can boil, before getting the hamburger. I place it in the second pan and chop it up so that it can start to brown.

“Earth to Skye?”

“Do you think I’d get away with placing a fence with a locked gate around my parking space?” I ask as I turn to face her. “Or leaving spikes in it so if Mr. Flaming Bedsheets next door decides to take it, he’ll blow a tire?”

Crossing my arms over my chest I lean back against the countertop and find Tori simply staring at me. Then without warning she stands and makes her way across the apartment yanking open our front door. I’m surprised and it takes me a bit to catch on. Even when I do, it’s too late, she is already pounding on the neighbor’s door.

“Hey ass face.” I hang my head at her choice of words as I make it to the threshold and look to the right. Her fists are pounding on the door and I am just about to speak up when it opens and her head tips back, looking upward. “Listen pal.” Again with the sarcastic tone. “Would you mind being a gem and moving your bike out of my sister’s parking space so she isn’t taking her frustrations out on me. And in the future, stick to the assigned parking for your own apartment. Unless of course you’d like to start paying half the rent for our place too, then you’re welcome to it. Don’t be a dick! Be a hero!”

With that she spins on her heels and walks back to our door. Moving in past me I chance another look in the direction of our neighbor and there he stands with his arms crossed over his shirtless chest. He is grinning from ear to ear with amusement.

I would like it to be noted that he is not an ass face.

3

Grayson Hawk

“Who was that?” I glance back reminding myself that I’m not alone. Last night I’d gone to Ruby’s, a bar that a lot of us go to on our nights off to let loose after shift. Marchy, a fellow firefighter, and his younger brother own the place and it’s the go-to spot for most of us.

I’d gone with the intention of having a few before coming home and calling it an early night, but instead ran into an old friend. Gia and I go way back, but it’s never been anything serious and it’s perfect. She travels for work, and I can’t do the drama that tends to come with attachments. Life is too hectic, and to be honest I don’t think I’m built for long-term.

“Neighbor,” I finally say, closing the door behind me.

I’d ridden back here with Gia and one of the guys dropped off my bike for me sometime today.

“She sounded pissed.” Gia grabs her jeans off the floor and steps into them, shimmying her hips, pulling them up. “It seems you’ve failed to charm her.”

“Apparently when the guys brought my bike back, they parked in her space.”

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