Page 13 of Silver Linings

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, and I think we’re all done hearing it tonight.” Damnit, he’s so sexy when he’s defending my honor. Is it anti-feminist to be so turned on by this?

“How dare you! I’ll have you fired for speaking to me like that,” she huffs in outrage.

“Joyce,” Tony interjects, voice like syrup. “Do you remember that time you came home from that gala trashed off pinot and you broke into Mr. Fairbanks’ office and opened that four hundred dollar bottle of bourbon?”

Mrs. Evans face goes pale. “How did you know about that?”

He spreads his arms wide. “I’m Tony. I know everything that happens here at The Langham.” He looks distinctly smug. “Keep your opinions to yourself, and I won’t have to show George any footage I discreetly disposed of.”

She stomps off toward the elevator, and I step out of her way and hold my hands up in supplication. As she steps onto the elevator, she turns around and levels us all with a withering stare. “You’ll regret crossing me.”

I turn to thank Hendrix for stepping in, for coming to my rescue and shutting down the vicious attack on my character. But as I look over, I see he’s walking out the door without a word of goodbye.

It’s been a few days since the incident in the lobby, and I’ve not seen Hendrix since.

I’ve assured Tony nothing was going on between me and the new maintenance man so he could start reiterating that to anyone in the building who thinks otherwise.

I’m fairly certain he’s avoiding me, though he can’t avoid me much longer.

He’s coming by today to check on my ceiling and hopefully patch it up.

Just as I’ve had the thought, there’s a knock at my door, and I race over to answer it.

Hendrix is standing there in a pair of worn-in jeans that hug his thighs beautifully and a sage t-shirt, long sleeves pushed up his arms, showing off the tattooed vines that wrap around his forearms. There’s scruff dusting his cut jaw, and his hair looks slightly mussed, like he just ran his hands through it.

“Morning.”

That’s all I get?

“Let me grab a jacket, because with that frigid attitude, it’s a little Baltic in here,” I retort sarcastically.

He doesn’t say anything, and I’m getting more frustrated by the second.

Kena told me to try and be friends with him, but that’s a little impossible when the guy won’t even talk to me.

I don’t know what I did to warrant this reaction.

Did I pry too much the last time he was here?

Was it what Mrs. Evans said? My fingers are starting to go numb from the anxiety of somehow unknowingly upsetting him.

I can fix this. I’ll give him some space for now and then broach the conversation later after he’s warmed up.

“The room’s ready for you.”

“Thanks.” Seriously, it’s Lapland in here.

He steps into the hallway and drags in a few panels of sheetrock, propping them against the available wall, careful to avoid the ornate molding.

Letting him do his thing, I head into my living room and sit down on my pink velvet couch.

I attempt to read for a while, but I keep getting distracted by all the noise coming from my bedroom and all the silence between us.

A few hours pass as I distract myself as best as I can.

I pick up my iPad to work on content for events we’re planning when Hendrix steps out of my bedroom, a thin sheen of sweat over his face and neck.

It is borderline pornographic—and a little insane that my eyes even catch on such a minute detail.

I stand up and trot into the kitchen to grab him a bottle of water to distance myself. He takes it without hesitation and downs half the bottle in one swig.

“I’m sorry. I should have grabbed that for you earlier.”

“I should remember to bring my own.”

God, this small talk is awkward. I’m just going to bite the bullet and?—

“Thank you,” I blurt out before he can leave.

“For what?

“For standing up to Mrs. Evans for me. It’s not easy to shut her down when she gets going on a rant, but you didn’t back down.”

“What she said to you was wrong,” he says, like we’ve been friends for ages and he’s an expert on me and my character.

“You don’t know me.”

“No, I don’t,” he agrees, taking a step toward me subconsciously before he realizes and retreats again. “But I know she’s wrong. I could see it on your face. What she said hurt you, and I couldn’t stand by and let it happen.”

I’m stunned he perceived me so well. My poker face is one of my best hidden talents. People never know when something bothers me, I’ve perfected the art of apathy and adopted a shake it off mentality.

One time in middle school, rumors spread that I gave Billy Jensen an STD because he told everyone I went down on him in the auditorium. I’d never so much as looked at the little twerp, but no one believed me, and from that moment on, I built up skin as thick as dragon hide.

Something about Hendrix hearing Mrs. Evan’s barbs made my stomach drop, though. I didn’t want him to see me the way she did.

“I’m fine.”

“I know, you don’t have to be though.” His words stun me, and my eyes bounce around his face.

We’re just sort of staring at each other, not saying anything, when he seems to snap back to himself.

“Everything is patched up in your ceiling. I moved your bed back, but the compound needs to set fully before I can paint over it.”

So, he’ll be back at least one more time, and who knows when? Now is the moment to follow Kena’s advice and invite him out. As friends .

“Great. So listen, a couple of us are going to karaoke on Friday night at this place in Midtown. Do you want to come?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He scratches the back of his neck, inked vines undulating as if they’re dancing on his skin. “There’s a strict no fraternization rule between building staff and tenants.”

“As friends!” I shout at him. “Bring your friends. My best friend Kena and his boyfriend will be there. It’s a totally casual friend thing. I just thought it might be nice to help you resettle into the city if you met some new people around your age.”

Maybe if I said the word friend enough, I would start to believe it. The invitation sounded casual enough—not at all like I was still picturing licking the sweat off his neck.

“Uhhh…” He trails off, scratching the back of his neck in clear discomfort.

“No pressure. The offer is open if you want to bring someone with you.” This couldn’t feel more awkward.

He nods before gathering up his tools and materials, and I follow him to the door. He steps out into the hallway and slings his tool bag over his shoulder in a way that is so inherently masculine, it makes my thighs clench.

I wave goodbye as he heads towards the elevator, and then I shut the door after him, immediately banging my head against it. I have no idea who I’m becoming in the wake of meeting this man, but I’ve never felt so flustered and nervous around a guy before.

And that confuses the shit out of me.