Page 8 of Ash
“Oh, Ms. Sutton!” Ronny calls as she runs to the elevator. “You have an exotic pet coming to stay, right?” Never did I think Alice Cooper would be classified as an ’exotic pet’ but here we are.
“Yes,” I confirm while leaning on the elevator door to stop it from closing, as well as signaling to Ronny that I really don’t have the time for a conversation.
“Okay, well, I just want to confirm that the rooster wouldn’t be crowing? If we receive noise com–”
I cut her off while walking into the elevator. “Alice is a hen, not a rooster. I have heard her crow, maybe once, and it isn’t loud. Anything else?” Ronny smiles apologetically before stepping back and I hit the button to the third floor.
Walking off the elevator, I hear a female curse and notice that it’s my neighbor. She’s a tiny thing with wild black curls and fair skin. She’s juggling grocery bags and I spot her keycard on the ground. I head towards her, picking up her card and handing it to her. “Need some help?” I ask, motioning to the bags.
“Thanks,” she sighs as she hands me a bag and swipes her card. “If I set them down, I won’t be able to pick them up and my stupid brother isn’t answering,” she grumbles as she opens the door.
“No worries, I’m moving in across the hall,” I say as I point to the door directly across from her before she motions for me to walk into her apartment. I’m about to step in when something, no,someonestops me. A wet, shirtless, towel-clad someone.
“Sunshine?” Ash says in shock as he walks over to me. The girl's head whips to me, her bright blue eyes wide.
“You’re Sunday Sutton?”
Mother fuck… I just became next-door neighbors to Ash and his sister.
* * *
Sitting on my couch,I let out a long groan as I rub my aching knee. I still cannot believe I tripped over that fucking chicken the other day. After everything I’ve done for Alice, and she tries to take me out every chance she gets. I should revoke her exotic pet status.
The tapping on my open front door grabs my attention and I look to see Ash leaning in the doorway, grinning ear to ear.
“Howdy, neighbor.” He beams and I groan again. Of all the apartment buildings in this city, I end up renting a place next door to Ash fucking Johnson. “You know, Sunshine, I kind of feel like this is destiny. Like the red string of fate.”
Rolling my eyes, I stare over at him, hoping my annoyance shines through. If it is shining, he seems unfazed as he strolls into my living room, completely uninvited, mind you.
“I give, what’s the red string of fate?” I ask, out of sheer morbid curiosity. Ash’s dark eyes begin to twinkle. Happiness washes over his strong, angular features as he sits on the chair across from my couch.
“So, the legend is there is this invisible red thread that connects one person to the other person they are supposed to meet, like our soulmates. The string is supposed to symbolize that no matter how far apart we are, we’ll find each other.”
I give him my best deadpan stare. “So, now we’re soulmates?” Ash shrugs, his grin still firmly planted on his smug face.
“Just saying, this is kind of one of those moments.”
“We are going from you pretending you don’t know me, to us having a connected string?”
He chuckles lightly, “Sunshine, I don’t control fate.” That overly confident voice of his, it’s so annoying.
I look at my hands. “Hm, no string.”
“It’s invisible, Sunshine.” He sighs.
“If it’s invisible, how do you know it’s red?” I raise a brow and his face drops.
“Well…” I watch the wheels spinning and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Exactly, now if you don’t mind, I gotta ice my knee before going to get my son.” Grunting, I go to stand, but Ash stops me.
“I’ll grab you some ice. Also, your knee needs to be elevated higher to help with the swelling.” I raise a skeptical brow and he shrugs. “I know things. I used to be a paramedic.” I watch him go to the kitchen and return a moment later with some ice in a dishtowel. Ash tries to place the towel on my leg, but I snatch it from him and do it myself.
“A paramedic, huh?” I hiss as the cold ice presses against my sensitive flesh.
“What?” He chuckles. “Do I not look the part?” I shrug nonchalantly.
“Honestly? Not really. You’re all about self-image.” He scoffs as he sits on the arm of the couch.
