My brain pulls up the image of Braden from last night wearing a backward baseball hat, jeans, and a t-shirt. Even in such a casual outfit, he was still ridiculously handsome.
I think about how his chest and shoulder muscles flexed under the thin cotton fabric of his shirt as he crossed his arms. And how those jeans did a terrible job of hiding just how thick and ripped his thighs are…
Lance walks over to us. “Do you still need help moving the furniture in your bedroom tomorrow?” he asks me.
“Yeah, if that’s okay?”
“Sure thing.”
I tell him thanks and restock the utensils and napkins where the customers pick up their drinks.
“Maybe you can get your new neighbor to help you do all that heavy lifting,” Lauren teases.
I roll my eyes. “We’ve had one argument and one kind of pleasant conversation. Not the greatest track record. The less we see each other, the better.”
Chapter 6
Bella
My phone rings while I’m throwing on my favorite hoodie.
When I see that it’s Lance calling, I answer it while darting to the front door and slipping on my sneakers.
“Hey, are you here? My buzzer’s broken, so I’ll come down to let you in,” I say as I walk out the door and into the hallway.
“Bad news.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, Bella, but I can’t come today.”
I stop walking and am about to ask what happened, but then I hear him make a retching noise. I wince. “Are you sick?”
More retching. After a few seconds, he coughs and clears his throat.
“Yeah. We ordered pizza from that dive bar down the street from our place last night. Awful idea.”
“You didn’t. Lance, even from the outside, that place looks disgusting.”
He makes a gagging noise.
“Is Lauren sick too?”
“No, she’s fine. She’s still in the phase of her pregnancy where anything with cheese makes her nauseous.”
“Okay, well, that’s good.”
“I’m sorry, Bella.”
I sigh. “It’s okay. Just get some rest. And drink plenty of water and Gatorade, so you don’t get dehydrated.”
We say goodbye, and I hang up. “Great,” I mutter to myself.
“Everything okay?”
I glance up and see Braden standing a handful of feet away, about to walk into his apartment.
I let out a tired laugh. “Fantastic.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t seem fantastic.”
I tug at the messy bun on top of my head. “A friend was supposed to help me move around some furniture in my bedroom, but he got sick.”