Page 8 of Unexpectedly You (Boston Boys Bozok #1)

Chapter Six

Bentley

The following evening I’m unlocking the door to my apartment, practically dead on my feet after another long day at work, when the door above me opens and Alex’s parents come out into the upstairs hall, laughing as they make their way down the stairs.

I try to get my door unlocked before they see me because I don’t feel like interacting right now, or ever really, but I hear, “Oh, hi, you must be the new neighbor.” I turn just as they hit the bottom floor.

They look like they’re dressed for a night out, him in dress pants and a button up, and her in a lovely maroon dress and heels, her hair up in a twist and her makeup immaculate. They’re both smiling at me.

“I’m Johnny,” Alex’s dad says, and I blink as I shake his outstretched hand. He's tall and broad and his grip is firm.

“Like the bar?”

They grin wider. “You’ve been?” the woman asks, then holds her hand out for me to shake as well. “I’m Isabella. ”

“Bentley,” I reply, “and yes, I went with a friend of mine the other night.”

“How lovely. Well, I hope you go back often. And it’s lovely to meet you. We’re Alex and Tommy’s parents.”

“Alex told me. I’m a friend of his.”

Isabella laughs and there’s a twinkle in her eye when she says, “He told you we were the crazy family who lives next door to each other, huh?”

I flush. “He didn’t put it that way.”

She laughs. “I’m just teasing you, Bentley. But I’m very glad you are friends with my Alex. He needs more people in his life.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Johnny says. “We’re on our way out for dinner and dancing but we’ll see you around I’m sure.”

“Have fun,” I say, waving as they walk away.

Okay, so that wasn’t so bad.

When Thursday rolls around I find I am actually looking forward to seeing Alex again.

We’ve barely seen each other since I dropped him off at work.

Our schedules being off means we run into each other occasionally when I’m coming home and he’s leaving, but that’s it, and as much as I enjoy spending time alone, I could use some company too.

And I like that I am cooking for more than one person.

My apartment is pretty much in order now, everything in its place, pillows and blankets on the sofa, pictures of me with Mom and Gram set up on the mantle and the single bookshelf I own, decorations on the wall, and it’s starting to feel more like home each day.

I hear a knock just as the oven beeps, letting me know dinner is ready.

“Just a second!” I call. I shouldn’t be nervous, really.

Alex is my friend. But even though I’m looking forward to seeing him I can’t help but be a little anxious, too.

The only people I’ve ever cooked for are Peyton and Gram.

I hope he likes what I made. I also hope I’m not too awkward.

I know I’m not the best at conversation.

Alex is pretty good at it though so I hope things don’t get too weird.

I pull dinner out of the oven and then turn it off before heading to the door.

When I open it, Alex is beaming at me and holding up a six pack of beer in one hand, carrying Marble in the other.

She doesn’t look overly pleased about being manhandled, but as soon as she sees me she scrambles out of Alex’s grip and practically leaps into my arms, startling me.

“Jesus, girl, at least pretend to be hard to get,” Alex chides her playfully.

We ended up exchanging numbers when he came by to thank me for shoveling his car out the other day, and told me I was welcome to come visit Marble while he’s at work if I want to, just to use the spare key he keeps under his doormat, so I did go over a few times in the evenings and cuddle her a bit, and now Alex says she’s spoiled.

“Ready to get this show on the road?” He laughs at his own joke and it makes me chuckle. “See what I did there? Show? Cause we’re watching a show?”

“Yes, very clever,” I deadpan, stroking Marble as she gives me her belly, and he laughs.

He sniffs the air. “It smells amazing in here. What did you make?”

I follow him into the kitchen where he sets the beer on the counter. “Baked ziti,” I tell him.

He leans over the pan on the stove and inhales, his eyes closing. “Oh, yum. Can we eat now? I’m starving. ”

I nod, but hesitate putting Marble down. I haven’t gotten my kitty fix yet.

“You’re clearly busy,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “Why don’t I dish it? Where are your plates?”

I smile softly and direct him, and in no time at all we’ve got two steaming plates and Alex is carrying them to the table. “It’s looking really good in here, too. You all unpacked?”

“Yeah,” I say as I sit down with Marble still in my arms. She purrs and rubs her head against my chest.

We talk about work as we eat, me finally setting Marble down after realizing how challenging it is to eat with one hand and also not wanting to accidentally drop food on her.

I don’t think she would forgive even me for that.

She saunters over to the oversized ottoman that’s used as a coffee table and jumps on it, turning around a couple of times before settling in for a nap.

“You should bring her over here from now on instead of coming to my place when you want to visit her,” Alex says.

“Really?”

He shrugs. “Why not? I know she’s safe with you. Just toss her back in the door when you get sick of her.”

I chuckle, and for some reason the fact that he knows his girl would be safe with me warms my chest. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Not much for you to do over at my place if you don’t read.” He gives me a friendly smile. “Speaking of which, I was thinking that if you are introducing me to your shows, I should introduce you to my books, if you’re up for it.”

I grimace.

“Okay, maybe not,” he says with a laugh.

“Sorry, I’ve just never been a fan of reading. I only do it when I have to.”

“Any reason? ”

I shrug, my cheeks heating a bit. “I was never very good at it, so it isn’t something I can do to relax or unwind.

It just stresses me out. I take forever to read anything and I just end up getting frustrated.

” I hesitate for a second, then say, “I have a language disorder, and it’s gotten better with the therapy Gram got me, and I get by okay, but words just don’t come easy to me.

I struggle with vocabulary and I always hated reading comprehension.

When I was in school Peyton and Gram helped me with my reading homework.

Heck, Peyton still helps me when I’m struggling with something. ”

“Helps you how?” He takes a sip of his water, and I finally make eye contact with him. There’s no judgment in his tone, only curiosity and it relaxes me a bit.

“Reading it out loud to me. It’s easier for me to absorb that way.

I’m not great with written words, or even knowing what words to use to communicate what it is I’m trying to say sometimes, but I’m real good at memorizing things people say to me.

I can remember an entire recipe if someone tells me what to do step by step, but reading them never works.

I just get overwhelmed by all the directions being there at once.

Gram realized it was easier to teach me to cook by just talking it out, rather than having me look at a recipe book.

I’ve been cooking from memory for a long time. ”

“Wow, that’s actually really impressive,” Alex says. “And I could do that.”

I feel my cheeks heating again. “Do what?”

“I mean, if you want me to. I could read the books out loud to you. And if there’s any words you’re having trouble with you can ask me what they mean and I’ll do my best to tell you.

I’m not a wizard or anything when it comes to reading, but I’m decent enough.There’s some great stories out there you shouldn’t be missing out on. ”

Shit. Why is the idea of him reading to me making my chest squeeze? That’s really damn sweet. He must really want me to know these stories.

“If you really don’t want to, though, I won’t be offended, I promise,” he tells me. “I don’t get offended easily, really, so if I’m ever bothering you just tell me to fuck off.”

I chuckle. “I don’t think I could do that. That was more Gram’s domain.”

He laughs. “Yeah, your grandma sounds like she was quite the character.”

“Yeah, you could say that. I think you would have liked her.”

“I think so too.” We eat for a bit longer before he says, “God, this ziti puts my spaghetti and meatballs to shame.”

I blush again. “Thanks, it’s Gram’s recipe.”

“You have a picture of her somewhere?” he asks, and I gesture.

“On the bookshelf.”

Alex helps me clear the table and then makes his way over to said shelf. He sees the photo of Gram and me dressed up for a Halloween party. She was Cruella and I was a dalmatian. She got decked out, too. Looked like the real deal, and I got a shit ton of candy that year.

“Oh, man this is epic,” he says, picking up the framed photo. “And you were adorable.”

My cheeks heat even more and I’m grateful he isn’t looking my way as I load the dishes into the dishwasher.

He sets the photo down and moves to one of us at the ocean we went to every summer.

I’m a bit older in that one, late highschool, and we both have wide smiles on our faces.

Her with a big beach hat on her head, her graying hair back in a ponytail.

I’m pretty sure that was also the trip where I got a really bad sunburn and Gram nursed me back to health with aloe and ice water.

Then we spent the rest of the trip indoors and she kicked my ass at Mario Kart.

I chuckle as I remember the ridiculous victory dance she did every time she won.

Fuck, the memories make my chest ache.

Alex’s laughter brings me back to the present when he sees the third photo of us at Universal Studios in my early college years, standing near Doctor Doom’s Fear Fall.

Gram has her tongue sticking out and both hands in the air with just her pinky and pointer finger up.

I’m next to her just trying not to laugh.