Page 12 of Detour

I still don’t like feeling trailed though, so I return my eyes to the ground without acknowledging him.

Coty, however, meets me at the top of the staircase smiling even more unabashedly, if possible. How do they get around so quickly? I watch my neighbor, who closely resembles sex on a stick, while slowly climbing the stairs and inconspicuously squeezing out half the pool from my padded bathing suit top. I laugh because really, what else am I supposed to do? His athletic shorts rustle from a light gust as does his muscle shirt with the arm pits ripped out—like much of my own wardrobe— and his feet are bare. For some reason, him dressed like this, so laidback and unassuming, it’s refreshing. He didn’t hose himself down in awful cologne. His hair is flattened on one side like he just got up from watching TV. I mean he didn’t even bother with shoes. He’s completely relaxed and comfortable and…at home.

My chest fills with my first real tinge of jealousy I’ve felt in a long, long time. I thought that urge was banned for good but here it is, rearing its ugly head, reminding me what I’ve never had, as if I didn’t already know. As if I don’t see it when I look in the mirror every single day.

He’s so beautiful, it almost hurts which is totally unfair considering I look like an agitated cat straight from an involuntary bath. My hair is flat down my back, making a puddle at my water-wrinkled toes, my skin is practically flaking off in chunks from the harsh chlorine, and I’m pretty sure my lips are purple and trembling. Coty’s eyes narrow at them in concern confirming they are, in fact, one step away from frostbite.

The towel is doing little to keep me warm but I wrap it tighter across my middle in any case. At least my hands have something to do unlike the rest of me. I’m practically naked with only a damp, holey towel plastered to the skin that isn’t covered by my bathing suit. He’s crazy if he thinks I’m going anywhere with him.

“Neighbor girl,” he says with a tip to his lip.

One eyebrow arched, I return, “Coty.” His breath leaves in a silent laugh I wish he would’ve let me hear. “What brings you out to my neck of the woods?”

“I noticed you were walking home alone,” I pin him in place with skepticism, making him finally release an audible laugh, “and I thought I’d see you to your door.” He tacks on, “it’s the neighborly thing to do,” to which I shake my head at.

I motion for him to go first while keeping an eye on his back. And ass. And calves. And ass. Okay, but it’s a good one. Like really good.

I’m so busy appreciating Coty’s finer points, I forget to draw out the guidelines regarding my vulnerable state of undress and his proximity. And my door. And why none of that can mix. Ever. But he surprises me by making a beeline for his own instead.

His back against his door, I mimic his pose by resting against mine, watching Coty in earnest. Most guys would have tried. They would have flirted. They would have teased or coaxed or sweet talked. Not Coty. He did exactly what I would’ve asked of him without me even saying a word.

“Well, thanks for getting me home safe and sound.”

He tilts his head back, gazing down at me through hooded eyes. “My pleasure. You never know who might be lurking, waiting to pounce on a beautiful girl.”

“Like you?”

My previously frozen skin is now fully thawed as Coty’s warm eyes blaze a fiery trail starting from my toes, past my cheap ass towel, up to my hair, then coming to rest on my face.

Holding my gaze, he says slowly, deliberately, “I wouldn’t pounce, Angela.” My name, my real name, on his lips makes me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from begging him to repeat it. “That’s not my style. I’d like to think I have more control than that.” His eyes drop briefly making me feel more naked, more seen, than I am. “Although that bikini is chipping away at that restraint every time you wear it.”

Somehow finding my voice, I squeak out, “You could get curtains.”

Before he can agree, or disagree, someone behind him yells out, “hey, neighbor girl!” causing us to laugh at the tension being cut by a huge, but cute, knife named Beckett.

Coty tilts his head to the side, shouting back, “Go away!”

I take the opportunity to open my door, eyes still trained across the hall but my phone ringing halts my movements. Seeing it’s Drew, I answer instantly. His girlfriend was just in town recently, so we haven’t spoken in a while.

“Hey, you. Calling to square up?” I joke into the mouthpiece.

Drew thought he’d be the only one visiting Jamie once she moved to another state but I bet him she’d make the effort to see him just as much. The two of them are crazy about each other and I knew she wouldn’t stay away for long. She’s already endured the boring six-hour roundtrip drive twice this month. Twice! In one month. I hate to think of Drew in anything other than a brotherly way—yuck— but I can’t help but wonder how you can miss someone that much? Isn’t FaceTime enough? They talk enough times a day to make anyone sick. I can attest to that.

When I’m met with silence, I look down at the phone, noticing the call hasn’t dropped. “Drew, are you there?”

Just as his voice comes through, the door across the hall shuts heavily, leaving me alone to question what the hell just happened. Coty made the effort to walk me to the door, then slams his in my face? It wasn’t exactly in my face but close enough. The intention was clear: Coty’s pissed. About what though? That I don’t have an answer to, nor do I want one if that wall dividing our hallway has any chance at staying intact. Shaking my head, I tune back into Drew as I slide the lock across my door, hoping it works both ways.

CHAPTER 8

Angela

A fter staying up late last night to catch up with Drew, I let myself sleep in. A rarity, for multiple reasons. Before I had a job to occupy my time on the weekends, I would sometimes find my mom hovering over my bed. With me still in it. Sleeping. And it wasn’t in a concerned motherly type of way either. It was like she was scrutinizing me, sizing me up during my most vulnerable state. Like she was looking for weaknesses to capitalize on later.

I started waking up earlier to leave the house before she was up. I would walk to different spots. Places I knew Rianne would never venture for fear of appearing as common as everyone else. Parks where I could exercise. Bakeries to do homework. Maybe those were places she went to when she was still playing at being a good mom. Long before I ever came along. Back when she was just a kid herself. A kid raising a kid, she didn’t know any better. Now though, now she does but just doesn’t give a shit.

Sometimes Drew would pick me up and we’d go for a drive. The kind of drives where no talking is required. Only music, the road, and a mutual understanding. Those were the best. We would drive for hours, taking turns picking songs. He would play his favorites. I would play ones that were actually good. It was so…simple. I’ve never had to question Drew’s intentions. I’ve never had to shield who I am with him. He’s the only person I’ve ever felt truly comfortable with.

Until last night that is.