Page 3 of Fired Up (Alphas Forever 2)

Layla

Idon’t screw up the presentation at work, exactly. I get through all my talking points, and I’m able to answer everyone’s questions at the end. But I don’t rock the presentation, either, like I was hoping to. Everything’s just a little...off. And I know why—I’m still shaken up from the night before. You would be, too, if you’d gotten a door slammed in your face.

I still don’t know what to make of what happened. I still don’t know what to think of my upstairs neighbor. I just know that I don’t want anything to do with him ever again.

At 5 p.m., I pack up my stuff and head out of the building. My plan for the evening is pretty simple: find something in my freezer to heat up for dinner and let my brain melt in front of the TV. I don’t want to think about work, or anything else from the real world. I just want to veg out.

Twenty minutes later, I’m in my apartment building, riding the elevator up to my floor. It’s comforting to be back home. I’m already starting to feel more relaxed. In less than a minute, I’ll be able to totally chill out.

But when I step out of the elevator and turn down the hall, I see my upstairs neighbor. Waiting for me. In front of my apartment door.

I clench my keys in my palm. My heartbeat quickens. He notices me coming and gives me a slight nod. I eye him cautiously as I approach.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m Anthony. From upstairs.”

“I’m Layla,” I say. But I’m not sure what to say beyond that. Right now, I’m a bundle of mixed emotions. I’m still annoyed—not just about him slamming his door in my face last night, but about all the other nights of him stomping around up there, too. At the same time, I’m a little intimidated by him, because he’s so much bigger than me. I don’t think his size fully registered last night because I was in such a rage.

But the thing that really makes it confusing is that I’m attracted to him, too.

I still haven’t said anything. He waits a few seconds longer, studying me. Then he runs a hand through his hair and says, “Look. I’m sorry about last night. I was rude to you.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“To be fair, though, you werepretty hostile when you showed up.”

“Well, that’s only because you were being so obnoxious with your incessant pacing.”

“I have insomnia,” he says.

I do feel a little bad when he says that. Still. Is that supposed to make it all okay?

“Well, that sucks that you have insomnia,” I say. “But it doesn’t mean that other people have to be kept up because of it, too.”

He nods slowly. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re right.”

Then he holds up a plastic bag of takeout that I’m just now realizing he’s been holding by his side. “I brought you a peace offering. I hope you like Chinese food.”

“Um, thanks,” I say, surprised. He holds out the bag and I take it. Whoa. There’s way too much food in here. It will probably take me a week to eat it all.

Glancing up at him, and feeling guilty about getting off on the wrong foot, I say, “Do you want to help me eat it?”

Now it’s his turn to be surprised. With slightly widened eyes, he says, “Sure. That would be nice.”

I unlock my apartment door and let him in. Luckily, I cleaned a couple days before. The only thing I do is quickly grab my pack of birth control pills, which are sitting out on the counter, and shove them into my pocket—not without realizing, though, that I forgot to take one this morning. Oops. I must have been in such a rush to get to work early for the presentation that I forgot. As long as I take two tomorrow, though, it should be fine. It’s not like I’m sleeping with anyone these days. I’m too focused on work to date.

I glance over at Anthony and catch him watching me. He looks amused.

“What?” I say. “Never seen a pack of birth control pills before?”

“It’s not that. It’s that you felt the need to hide them.”

“I’m not hiding them.” I throw the pack back onto the counter, annoyed.

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me.” He turns his attention away and looks around my apartment. “Nice place. I like how you’ve decorated it.”

“My BFF helped me,” I say. “She’s an interior designer. She used to live in your apartment.”

“I see,” says Anthony. “You must miss her.”

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