Page 10 of If It Can't Be Us

Last nightwasfun. I crack an eye open and check the time on my phone. It’s almost 9 AM.

“Shit.” I sit up quickly and hop out of bed. “You’ve got to go,” I say, pulling on some joggers over my bare ass and stiffie while tossing her clothes toward her.

She stands up quickly, alarmed, and starts getting dressed. “Can’t get rid of me fast enough, huh?” she mumbles.

“That’s not it, Chrissy.”That’s exactly it.“I have a meeting in thirty minutes.”No, I don’t.

Lies are easier than truths in this scenario. Saves everybody unnecessary feelings. I find her bra under the bed and pass it to her. She catches it and slips her arms through the straps.

“But… it’s a Saturday?” she says, confused.

“Yes, and some people work on Saturdays.”

I really need to start picking women for more than just their looks. Chrissy is good-looking, sure. Probably looked even better last night after a few drinks, but still, she’s hot, and we tangled in the sheets for hours.

“I’m calling an Uber for you. Type your address in,” I say, handing her my phone. She rolls her eyes, standing in her bra and underwear, and types it in before chucking the phone back to me, not caring if I catch it or not.

“You might be the hottest asshole I’ve ever slept with,” she says begrudgingly.

I scoff. “You weren’t complaining last night, love.”

I nudge her down the stairs before she even has her dress completely pulled down. I race behind, simultaneously helping her with her zipper.

She glares at me.

“Would you like a coffee while you wait?” I ask, trying to make up for my behavior.

“Yes please.” She softens. “I would appreciate that.”

Damn. She looks sad. I hate being the reason a woman feels that way. When I’m with women, I strive to pleasure them and love making them feel desired. I make her a cappuccino and hand it to her in a to-go cup.

“I apologize for rushing you out so quickly. You’re beautiful, and I had a great time last night.”

“It’s fine. At least you were a good lay,” she says with a smirk. “That accent of yours is hot.”

I chuckle inwardly. Being British in America definitely has its perks. “Your ride’s here, love.”

I walk her to the door of my townhouse and open it for her. The morning sun filters through the skyscrapers, casting long shadows on the riverwalk.

She turns on the doorstep. “Thanks,” she says, “I had a great time last night.”

As she’s speaking, I notice a gorgeous woman a few houses down, running along the sidewalk.

“I had a great time too.” I give her a brief hug out of courtesy, mainly so I can get a better look at the runner.

As Chrissy heads down the sidewalk, passing the row of townhouses, to where her Uber is waiting, the runner glances over at me and her eyes linger longer than normal. She looks forward as she passes my house, and I watch her go by, unconsciously waving to Chrissy as she walks away, while checking out this girl’s ass. She has a great ass. I’m standing there shirtless, my joggers hanging way too low around my hips, when she looks back for a double take. I smile and let that soak in. When she realizes I caught her looking, she abruptly turns her head forward.

I’m about to follow her when she stops running and rounds into my neighbor’s yard. The townhouse that’s been vacant for three months. The for-sale sign went down a few weeks ago. I walk down my front pathway and watch her go inside.

Holy shit.

She lives next door.

My new neighbor is a complete smoke show, and we’ve both been caught ogling each other. I stand there, stunned. This is awkward. For the first time in a long time, I don’t know how to proceed with a woman. I obviously need to do the neighborly thing and introduce myself, but being caught half-dressed with my one-night stand as a first impression… I’m at a loss. I want to meet her, but I figure it’s best to let this blow over first.

I walk back inside, feeling slightly guilty for kicking Chrissy out this morning. But I have certain protocols that I follow, and not allowing women to stay past 9 AM is one of them. I’m not a total jerk, I swear. I never bring women home if they’ve had too much to drink, and I’m always upfront about only looking for a casual shag—never promising more thana one-night stand or even a phone number. I figure grown-ass women can make their own decisions. Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of rejections. It’s not for everyone.

Still, I foresee a potential challenge. My new neighbor is fucking hot, and I don’t sleep with women I know, especially ones who live next door, but I definitely want to know her.

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