Chapter 3 Oops, He Caught

~Lucy~

I pace around my room like a lunatic, waiting for Mr. Next Door to come back from the gym.

I've peeked through my peephole at least a hundred times but nothing.

Is he still working out? What is he trying to do, sculpt a Greek god body just to walk around shirtless and smug?

Why is he even gone this long?

I can't wait for him to return. The moment I hear his key in the door, I'm pulling out my violin. And this time? Oh, I'm going full-on torture mode.

I'll make it more annoying than ever, screechy, off-key and loud. I'll make sure he cries his ears out.

And when he comes banging on my door I won't even answer. Let him suffer. I'll make sure I annoy him until he moves out. Doesn't he have a big attitude? I'll make him pay for it.

Who the hell does he think he is, anyway?

Walking around like some big shot with his stupid jawline and those stupid arms and that dumb "I'm too good for violin music" attitude. Blasting loud music like it's okay, but my violin is the problem?

Please. My cat Kinny, may he rest in peace, loved my violin playing. My grandmother used to say I had the hands of an angel. So who the hell does this gym-addicted music snob think he is? I wasn't even able to workout yesterday because of him and today he decides to spend the whole evening at the gym?

He's not getting a wink of sleep tonight. Even if it's the last thing I do.

Suddenly, my phone rings, snapping me out of my spiral. I smile when I see the name, my best friend, Freya.

"Hey, Frey. I miss you."

"I miss you more, Lulu! What's up with you? Have you been able to paint anything today?"

I let out a dramatic sigh. "Nothing yet. I'm still blocked."

"Aww, bestie. Don't push it, okay? Just take your time. It'll come back."

"It's so hard, Frey," I groan, pulling my hair into a messy fist.

"I know," she says gently. "But don't stress it too much. Don't burn yourself out."

I sigh again, flopping back onto my bed. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good! What are you up to right now?"

"Oh, just waiting for Mr. Next Door to return from the gym so I can torture his ears tonight."

She laughs, full and loud. "Lulu! Leave that man alone! Why not just be friendly for once? You need a man in your life. Imagine your neighbor! Built-in cuddle buddy."

"Frey, what the hell? Are you seriously trying to hook me up with that grumpy-ass man?"

"You said yourself he's hot! Didn't you call him 'body of an athlete' and everything?" she squeals. "Ugh, I need to see him."

"I did say that, but guess what? His attitude slapped me in the face."

"Oh, come on. Soften up a little. Your vagina needs some cream."

"FREYA!"

"I'm serious! Think about it. You could use Mr. Next Door as inspiration for that half-finished canvas."

"How?!" I groan, rolling my eyes so hard they almost get stuck.

"He's hot. He could make you horny. And horny might bring your spark back."

"Frey, shut up. He's an asshole. I don't want him."

"Maybe he's only mean because he's horny too."

"There's no way he's single. But if he is? With that attitude? No wonder."

"Lulu, listen, that man could wake your pussy from the dead. Use him and stop being a headache to him. You two just need some spicy romance in your life, especially you, it's been two years, Lu."

I roll my eyes. "Get off my phone."

She cackles. "I gotta go anyway. Saving lives and curing diseases, you know."

"Yes, yes, go be a superhero, Doctor Freya, and leave your emotionally unstable bestie alone."

I chew on my bottom lip, thinking about what Freya just said. It's... a good idea, I'll admit. But Mr. Next Door? He's so grumpy, so infuriating, I cannot, for the life of me, imagine myself in any kind of relationship with that man.

"No." I shake my head, shoving the thought away.

Besides, I don't even get horny anymore. That part of me died the day my stupid ex crushed it. So thanks, but no thanks.

My phone buzzes again.

"Ugh, what now?" I mutter, grabbing it. It's an email from my aunt. A wedding invitation, my cousin is getting married.

"There's absolutely no way I'm going to that wedding," I scoff out loud.

Jim will be there. Of course he will. All my former classmates too, they are friends with my cousin since we were all in the same class. That whole wedding is basically a glorified high school reunion, one giant reminder of everything I'd rather forget.

Sure, I'm doing well. I'm recognized for my erotic art. I could show up and rub that in their faces the same way they'll try to flaunt their picture-perfect lives in mine.

But do I really want to go through that? That exhausting game of "look at how far I've come" while pretending not to care about what anyone else thinks?

No. Hell no. That's a hard pass. I'll need to come up with some excuse, I'm not going.

*

I had waited almost three hours. Bored out of my mind and unable to fight the urge any longer, I finally throw on my gym clothes and head downstairs. Just to see, you know, casually, if Mr. Grumpy is still there.

Sure enough, there he is; brooding, sweaty and shirtless.

He's slamming a weighted medicine ball to the ground, over and over, like he's trying to murder the floor. His muscles flex and ripple with every throw. Veins bulge down his arms, and there's this low grunt he makes each time he lifts the ball above his head.

And when he switches to doing thrusts with a barbell across his shoulders... holy hell. Why does that movement look so... obscene? Each controlled thrust forward is too smooth, too rhythmic. It's giving bedroom energy, and I hate that I notice it. Even worse, I feel a tingle deep in my core.

Nope. Absolutely not. I shake my head, trying to snap myself out of it.

But before I can look away, he glances over his shoulder, and our eyes meet.

Shit.

It feels like he's been watching me. There's something about the way he looks at me, like he can see me, even when his back is turned. Like he knows I'm there, breathing, thinking, watching him too.

My stomach flips and heat rushes up my neck. He caught me staring. I'm so embarrassed.

I spin around so fast I nearly crash into a treadmill.

Just great. Now I can never come to this gym again. I grit my teeth, regretting ever coming down here. I don't even want to imagine what he thinks of me right now.