The Men Next Door

Ch 12 - Luca

By the time I walked into my apartment on Friday evening, the scowl that had been plastered on my face since lunchtime was threatening to stay there permanently.

First, the new guy at work wouldn't stop telling "back in my day" stories.

He was probably forty, at most.

Then, my boss pulled me into his office for "a chat," which really just meant he knew I couldn't focus for shit in the main room, and the forty-year-old fucker ooh'd and aah'd like we were in middle school and I was getting a detention.

And after that, I was so aware of the guy watching my every move that I would've had better luck winning the Powerball than debugging the most basic of codes.

I might have quit on the spot if my boss wasn't the whole reason I had a legitimate career.

But instead, he was like a mentor-slash-replacement-dad—which was why I did my best to hide my real feelings when he tried to convince me the new guy was actually a wonderful worker with an impressive resume. I must have done a terrible job, though, because I left his office with a promise of fancy new headphones and a desk as far away from the not-a-personality-hire as he could manage.

Worked out pretty well, all things considered.

I almost even smiled on my commute home.

Except then I turned the doorknob and was slapped in the face with the reality of my apartment. The place that was so full of eccentric decorations and random doodads that the living room looked more like a kid's playroom than a bachelor pad half the time. It was functional for me, usually, but right now? After a work week that made me want to get a fucking brain transplant? It was just a reminder of the last time I had a girl over and she told me it was "very...personalized," which wasn't a compliment, no matter how much she tried to make up for it afterward.

"I need to get out of here," I mumbled to myself, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor as I beelined for my bedroom. I changed into something more comfortable, grabbed my gym bag, and made for the door, fully intending to get a workout in and turn my mind off for an hour or two. But as I headed for the stairwell and passed by Campbell's apartment, something inside of me flipped.

I shuffled back a few steps, raising my fist to knock on her door. Just to see, you know? I was half hoping she wasn't home. My mood was abysmal, and the last thing I wanted was for her to see me like that, and yet when the hinges swung open, I was ready to change all of my plans.

"Did you know there's a hot tub on the roof?" I asked. My shoulders relaxed at the mere thought of it. Hot water. Hot girl. And hot off the press, judging by the way her eyes widened in surprise.

Or maybe that was because I showed up unannounced and blurted out the first thing that came to mind instead of a perfectly normal, perfectly good greeting.

"I didn't," she answered.

"There is," I told her. "It's supposed to be a private rooftop, but the door doesn't lock, and rumor has it the penthouse is empty right now."

"Is Jenkins the rumor mill?"

"Maybe." I cupped my hand beside my mouth like I was sharing a secret. "Don't tell him I told you."

She grinned, then asked, "Why are you telling me?"

"Oh, you know..." I gave her a sideways glance, practically daring her to sneak up there with me. "Just in case you're feeling adventurous."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

"Isn't it getting cold out?" she asked skeptically.