the walls. I’m still volleying between colors, but I figure getting the ball rolling by throwing on the primer is as good of a start as any.
See? That’ll show my parents. Only a true professional would know about primer.
With all my supplies laid out, my back door and windows open, and the music blasting, I get to work. I have my furniture in the living room all bunched together in the center to avoid any paint mishaps. I dip the paint roller into the tray and roll it, allowing the paint to soak into the fiber. My hips sway to the beat of Bell Biv Devoe’s “Poison.” I belt out the lyrics, rolling the white primer over the hideous eggshell. With each dip and swipe, more of the wall gets covered, and I can’t contain my grin.
A new slate.
One that’s mine and mine alone.
Before I realize it, two walls in the living room have been primed, and I’m on to the third. “Saturday Love” by Cherrelle blasts over the Bluetooth speakers, and I bob my head.
Singing along to the lyrics, I’m so lost in the task and the upbeat song that I don’t hear the banging on the screen door for a good few minutes. Nor do I hear the sharp bark or the deep baritone of a male’s voice.
I whirl around, completely startled. In the process, paint splatters against my coffee table, and I hiss.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
The banging on the front screen door starts up again. With a growl, I drop the handle, letting the roller drop into the paint. I wipe my paint-smothered hands on my shorts and tank top. I don’t know where all the paint came from. I could’ve sworn I was doing a superb job, but as I glance down at the droplets of paint covering the floor and my shoes, I realize it’s a lot harder than I originally thought.
My heart lurches when I close the distance from the living room to the screen door. Something stirs in my stomach, the effects of the sensation travel through my veins, and I refuse to acknowledge what it is, as I open the screen door, coming face-to-face with my neighbor. His face is pulled taut with frustration. His eyes are narrowed, practically incinerating me with the glare he’s shooting my way. His plump lips are pressed in a grim line. He has a small amount of stubble dusted along his sharp jawline. His black T-shirt hugs his muscles to perfection, and even though I can feel his anger, I find myself struggling not to gape at how handsome he is.
When I finally meet his gaze, I’m startled by the intensity reflected back at me. I thought his eyes were a stark, deep blue, but I was wrong. Today, his eyes, though still blue, have taken on a lighter gray hue. Those pewter eyes glare into me, drilling holes into my skull, and I swallow thickly, forcing an awkward smile.
“Sorry, can I help you?”
He chuckles darkly, without humor, resting one large hand along the doorframe, and shakes his head. “Yeah, you can, by turning down the fucking music. I can’t even hear myself think.”
The ire in his gaze and the way he regards me with such disgust make me want to curl in on myself and hide. Everything about him is intimidating. His height, his build, just how handsome he is. It’s typical really. A good-looking man with a shit attitude. What else is new?
Instead of curling in on myself like I want to, I square my shoulders, not letting him see how much he gets to me. How much his constant blatant rudeness bothers me.
“I’ll turn it down, but for future reference, maybe people won’t think you’re such a dickhead, if you ask nicely.”
The corners of his mouth tip into a cold smile. “Listen, I couldn’t really give a shit what you think about me.”
My mouth drops open in shock. Without sparing me another glance, he fixes his gaze on the mess of paint behind me in the living room and shakes his head again, before he turns, heading back toward his house. The entire way, I watch him, the muscles in his back flexing and straining against the fabric of his shirt. His hands are curled into fists the entire way. I flinch at the finality of his door slamming shut behind him.
“What a prick,” I whisper to myself. And, of course, just like the pleasing neighbor I am, I lower the volume of my