Fine as Hell Neighbor glanced at Lily and coughed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not—you know I’m not a ladies’ man, Henry.” He smiled softly and placed a reassuring hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Number one, you’ve gotta relax. You already know Yolanda likes you and she’s been waiting for you to make the first move. Just tell her the truth. You like her, and you want to take her out for a nice dinner. Be yourself. You got this. You’re the man. Come on, say it.”
“Say what?” Henry asked.
“That you’re the man.”
“I’m the man,” Henry said quietly.
“Nah, say it with feeling.”
“I’m the man,” Henry repeated, slightly louder this time.
“You’re the man!”
“I’m the man!”
Lily laughed, watching the two of them.
Henry glanced at her and his cheeks flushed bright red. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I hope we aren’t disturbing you.”
Lily shook her head. “Not at all. Um, good luck with asking her out.”
Henry smiled, although he still looked nervous. “Thank you.”
The elevator finally stopped on the fourteenth floor. Lily’s floor. And her neighbor’s.
He turned to Henry one last time. “Remember, you’re the man.”
Henry nodded, waving at the two of them as they stepped into the hallway. The elevator doors closed.
Lily and Fine as Hell Neighbor weren’t walking together, necessarily. He was a couple feet behind her, but she felt as though he were only inches away.
That was really nice of you to help him out, she wanted to say. To be honest, I could use one of your pep talks. But her tongue felt leaden, covered in molasses. Why couldn’t she just be normal and talk to him?
She reached Violet’s apartment and pulled out her keys. Taking a deep breath, she turned to her neighbor to say something, she had no idea what. But he was already walking past her toward his apartment, exactly four doors down and across the hall.
“Have a good night,” he said, smiling politely.
“Me too,” Lily said. “Wait, I mean, you too.” She shook her head. God. She was the worst.
He nodded his head before slipping inside of his apartment. Annoyed with herself and her inability to say something dazzling or memorable, Lily groaned and entered Violet’s apartment, slumping against the door. One day soon.
One day soon, she’d get up the nerve to actually talk to him.
Lily had run into Fine as Hell Neighbor in the hallway/elevator/lobby nearly every day since she’d moved in with Violet last month. And even more lately, since the other elevator had been out of service for weeks and there was only one way up, other than the stairs. And each interaction consisted of him being friendly and attempting conversation, while she became overwhelmed by his hotness and struggled to speak.
But with Fine as Hell Neighbor, Lily actually had something to talk about. Books. She could overcome her battle with casual conversation. And . . . wait.
Wouldn’t that make him the perfect date for Violet’s wedding?
They could talk about books all night. And even better, she didn’t have to worry about trying to make anything work long-term because apparently, he was a “ladies’ man,” according to Henry. Lily had never seen Fine as Hell Neighbor with a woman herself, but Henry clearly knew him better than she did. If he was a serial dater, they could have a fun night at the wedding and then go about their lives. No yearlong email chains and no messy heartbreak.
And if it happened that before they parted ways, he told Lily she was the sexiest, most fascinating woman he’d ever met, and he passionately pushed her up against the wall, grabbed her face, covered her mouth with his and then completely ravished her, who would she be to complain?
“Meow.”
Lily startled and looked down at her sweet Tomcat, who was too hungry to wait for her to finish her daydream.
“Hey, bud,” she said, as Tomcat affectionately bumped his head against her shin. “Let’s get you fed.”
Lily was the quiet sister. Or according to her family: shy. Or according to old classmates: mousy. She personally preferred the term observant.
She wasn’t bold like Violet or strategic like Iris, but she’d have to be in order to ask out Fine as Hell Neighbor. And she’d start by learning his real name.
3
“Nick.”
Nick groaned as he felt someone shaking his shoulder, trying to force him awake. He rolled over, turning away, attempting to hold on to the last remnants of his dream. In his twenty-eight years spent on this earth, Nick had rarely experienced a good night’s sleep. His childhood had been filled with long, unnerving and restless nights, where he wrote Lord of the Rings fanfiction at three in the morning, wondering when his mother would return and if she’d managed to track down his father, who’d committed another disappearing act to （a） gamble, （b） drink, （c） steal or （d） all of the above. The insomnia had followed Nick ever since and combined with the constant jet lag from his World Traveler days, dreaming was rare.