Quick Study Read Free Page B

parked under the porte cochere thing his real estate agent had creamed over.
    Fingers on the wheel, he realized he couldn’t just rush over and start up where they’d left off. As much as he really, really wanted to. He’d thought of nothing else for two days, from the lurid daydreams reliving the slick heat of her body, then descending into obscene nightmares at night where she strapped him to a bed with bungee cords and tormented him until his balls were so blue he turned into a Smurf.
    A neighbor. No wonder she hadn’t been ashamed. She had no reason to be.
    He hadn’t given her a chance to explain.
    She’d tried come off as fearless, but he remembered the flashes of shyness, which only made him want her more, now that he suspected she was just a helpful neighbor with nothing but her own, reasonable needs. And no husband or little kid to worry about.
    Breaking several traffic laws, Paul drove down the secluded hills out of his neighborhood to the flat, concrete ugliness of hers. He parked outside the squat apartment building but didn’t get out of his car. What was he going to say? How would he get in to talk to her?
    Checking his teeth in the mirror, his breath on his hand, then pressing his palm against the fly of his jeans, Paul reminded himself to find more about her this time before they took it too far.
    He had to ring seven of the buttons at the front gate before he found hers.
    “Hello?” she asked through the speaker— her voice, finally, distorted but recognizable.
    His heart leaped. “Bonnie? It’s me. Paul. Can we talk?”
    Silence. Then, “Who?”
    He didn’t believe her. “We can go out for coffee. For real this time.”
    The speaker crackled, then was quiet. Paul stood there, gazing at his own reflection in the glass of the entry door past the battered security gate, wondering if he was a handsome guy. 
    He thought he might be, but after spending the first thirty years of his life staring at a computer monitor snorting Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, peanut M ‘n’ M’s, and Gatorade, his self-image was that of a larger, paler, geekier version of himself. Paul 2.0 might look like hot shit, and his sister and surprised coworkers said he did, but he wasn’t always convinced. Past the piercings and Haight Street haircut, he glimpsed the guy he used to be.
    His confused reflection swung away to reveal Bonnie standing in the doorway in a tight white t-shirt and low-slung jeans, her wavy hair down about her shoulders in a dark, messy cloud that made his breath catch.
    “Thanks for coming out,” he said.
    She nodded but didn’t open the security gate. “Listen, I needed to explain—”
    “You don’t have to. My sister told me. You’re the boy’s neighbor.”
    She paused, mouth slightly open, and then nodded again. “I tried to tell you—” She glanced down. “Well. OK, then. Bye.” She started to turn.
    “Wait!” Paul pressed his palms against the grate. “Hold on.”
    She shook her head, took a step back.
    He sensed her nerves, but she was lingering, waiting for him to reassure her. “Just coffee. Please.”
    She bit her lip. “I don’t think so.”
    “But why?” He let his forehead bump against the gate and gave her the most charming lopsided grin he had. “Look, I’m really sorry I ran out like that. I should have given you a chance to explain.” He hoped he didn’t sound desperate, but he really liked her. He stepped away from the gate and struck an unaggressive pose, fingers stuck into the tight front pockets of his jeans. “Please let me buy you that coffee. One cup. Just to clear the air.”
    She glanced behind her, hesitated, turned back. “I only have an hour.”
    A surge of desire washed through him. He propped his forearm against the gate and smiled at her through the bars. “Great. Thank you.”
    “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the gloomy hallway, returning moments later with a purse over her shoulder. She swung the gate open and marched ahead of