My nostrils flare. To be fair, Trevor hasn’t raised his voice. He is not the kind of man to do that, but his ice-cold looks and firm voice are more than enough.
I stare into his eyes.
“You’re using Anya as an excuse to throw your weight around,” I argue.
“Do you want to come into my apartment and listen for yourself?”
“No. I do not want to go into your apartment,” I say. Probably a little too quickly.
A moment of silence passes between us, and then Trevor takes two steps towards me. He is standing so close to me now that I can feel his hot breath fall on my face. The tips of my breasts are just an inch away from grazing his chest. I feel an electric sensation pass down my spine. I clench my hands into fists, just to feel the pinch of my nails digging into my skin. I need to remind myself to stay in control. This is insane.
“Are you worried that if you come into my apartment, you will never want to leave?” he asks in a low voice. It’s not as cold as usual. There’s some hidden tone…something meaningful.
I feel all choked up. Seduced. It’s like he has touched me without lifting a finger.
“You are so full of yourself,” I manage to hiss.
Something like a smile flits over his eyes, but he blinks it away and steps back.
“If you’re not going to turn it down, I’m going to have to call Pete.”
I roll my eyes. I’m trying very hard to compose myself again.
“And what is Pete going to do?”
“Give you your second warning. You’ll have one more chance before the complaints are brought forward to the housing committee.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he has already walked away before I can say anything. By the time I lean forward and look, he is stepping into his apartment and banging the door shut behind him.
“Who was that?” Lacy yells when I go back in.
“Nobody. Just turn the music down, you guys,” I say and press my back to the door.
I can’t decide if I’m angry or if I got exactly what I wanted.
3
Trevor
“Were you disturbed by all that music last night, baby?” I ask Anya when she settles into the chair across from me at the breakfast table. I watch with a joyful gaze as she rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands.
“What music?”
“Coming from Blaire’s apartment.”
She scrunches up her nose and shrugs.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
I wish Anya was disturbed. Then I could use it as an excuse to go back to Blaire and complain. Any excuse to talk to her, right?
I know our relationship is unhealthy. I am extremely aware of it. We should either fuck or forget about it. The thing is, I’m not sure what she wants exactly. Sometimes I catch her looking at me in that particular way of hers, jutting her chin out proudly. Sometimes I think she finds me just as unfairly irresistible as I find her. But most of the time, I’m sure she hates me.
Besides, if we sleep together, it would seriously screw up the relationship she shares with Anya, and there is nothing more important to me in the world than my daughter.
Anya loves Blaire. She looks up to her.
It’s been a year since Nicola’s death, and even though I know she doesn’t fully understand what it means, I can sense her finally starting to cope with the loss. It wasn’t until Blaire showed up in the apartment next door that Anya came out of her shell of gloom. She missed her mom. She wanted her back. She didn’t understand why Nicola never returned from her vacation, and I don’t know if I’ve used the right words to explain.
Anya and I have been thrown into this life together. Neither of us were prepared for it. I’m not sure if either of us wanted it, but here we are, and we’re trying our best.
But there is something about Blaire that lights up Anya’s day. She seeks her out. Looks for reasons to go over to her apartment. I guess I should be grateful to Blaire for entertaining a five-year-old’s attention. I don’t know much about her, but she doesn’t strike me as a woman who spends a lot of time around kids. However, the two of them have fallen into a natural rhythm that works.
And if we sleep together, it’ll ruin everything. Anya has finally found someone she can relate to