The Men Next Door

Ch 24 - Luca

"You look like shit. Are you sure you're not sick?"

Addy had blamed her stuffy voice on allergies when I talked to her on the phone, but now that I was standing in front of her, I realized that December was a weird ass month to be having an allergy attack.

"Thanks, dickhead," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure I'm not sick."

"Then why do you look like you got hit by a bus?"

She snorted. "Again — thanks, dickhead. If you must know, Walker and I broke up, so I'm wallowing in self-pity."

I covered my mouth in shock. "Fuck, Addy. Why didn't you say anything? I wouldn't have invited myself over like this if I knew. Are you okay? Do you want me to leave?"

She rolled her eyes at me for the second time since she opened the door — sassy little thing — then grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. "I wouldn't have said yes if I was going to kick you out as soon as you got here. Although after you told me I look like shit and like I got hit by a bus in the first 30 seconds, I might reconsider."

I winced. "Sorry. What happened? Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's been a long time coming," Addy sighed. "But basically, he gave me an ultimatum to move out west or to end things. I chose to end things, obviously, and he bought a one-way ticket to Montana the very same night."

"That's fucked up," I said as we plopped down on the couch. I knew I didn't love the guy, but I didn't think he was that much of a dipshit. "You deserve better, Ads."

She nodded in agreement. "He wasted 12 years of my life and a hell of a lot of my money."

"Everything happens for a reason, I think. Hopefully it teaches you a life lesson or some shit." My eyes drifted between the romance movie paused on the TV and the pile of tissues on the floor under her armrest. "Also, you're torturing yourself. Why do you want to watch fake people fall in fake love?"

Addy frowned. "Helps me believe love is real after all, I guess. I don't want to become a cynic just because things didn't work out with my high school sweetheart. It's a miracle we made it as long as we did."

I wanted to make a snarky comment that I wasn't sure love was real, but I held my tongue. The little voice in my head not-so-kindly reminded me that I should've done that the night before, too. "I know it's cliché, but there are plenty of fish in the sea. Especially here in the city — there are quite literally a million men who'd love to take you on a date."

"Okay, Luca," Addy laughed. "Easy for you to say as a smoking hot 25-year-old with the literal girl next door wrapped around your finger."

"Any man with a brain would snatch you up before you're off the market again," I countered, choosing to ignore the bit about the girl next door. Clearly she hadn't heard the news yet, and I sure as hell didn't want to be the one to break it to her.

"Okay, let's assume you're right," she started, turning to face me and tucking her legs up under herself on the couch. "Here's the issue: 50% of men don't have a brain, and 25% that do have a brain are too young or too old. The next 10% are taken, another 5% are gay, and out of everyone who's left, 9% aren't my type. So now we're down to 1% of men, which isn't great odds."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm just going to assume that added up to a hundred."

"Trust me; I've done the math."

"Well then give me the rest of the numbers. What's too young for you?" I meant to say 'too young or too old,' or at least that's what I tried to tell myself, but she read right into it either way.