Page 2 of My Demon Neighbor
"I better get going."
For a moment, I was tempted to question her about my elusive neighbor, but I bit back the urge, instead giving her a nod and making my exit before curiosity got the best of me.
Codie
"You didn't tell me your neighbor is such a hottie," Nessa said as she bustled inside, and I quickly closed the door after her, turning all three locks and switching the alarm back on.
I turned to face her, my brows furrowing as I tugged at the sleeves of my dark brown coat. Beforethatnight, this coat had hung in the back of my closet without being used for years, but I'd stumbled upon it during a bout of obsessive cleaning, and ever since, it'd become a security blanket for me.
It'd belonged to my father, and I'd held onto it simply because it reminded me of him and made me feel closer to him, but now I wore it all the time, and when it was in the washer, I used a thick blanket and waited impatiently until it dried so I could wear it again.
"Fuck, why is your place always so cold? Are you part polar bear?" she demanded as she made a beeline for my kitchen, and I trailed after her, my coat brushing my ankles. Of course, wearing the coat all day meant I had to turn the temperature down so I wouldn't overheat, and I winced.
"Sorry."
She waved me off as she started restocking my fridge with the things she'd bought, and I leaned against the counter as Iwatched her. Nessa was... she was my anchor. I didn't think I would've survived without her.
We'd met in college, where she'd teased me about my 'useless degree' in art until she saw one of my paintings. Then, she'd declared she was going to be my agent and sell my paintings for millions. And when Vanessa Mulligan decided on something, nothing could stop her.
She'd kept her promise, but she'd done more than that. She'd saved my life, and made sure I never felt alone in this world. Even now, when I was nothing like the man she'd met all those years ago, she still loved me, and I didn't know how I could ever thank her for that.
"What neighbor?" I asked, suddenly remembering what she'd said as she came in.
She gave me a wide-eyed look, then waved toward the living room. "The one that lives right across the street. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome? Don't tell me you haven't seen him?"
I shrugged because we both knew I spent most of my time in the spare bedroom, aka my art studio.
She sighed, then abandoned the groceries—she'd put away all the perishables, and clearly that was enough—and made her way to the dining table, where my laptop sat abandoned. I'd definitelynotbeen perusing articles about me and the wild guesses people were making as to why I'd turned into a recluse. Somehow, none of the reporters had caught wind of the police report I'd filed, which made sense because despite all the details and DNA they had, they'd never managed to catch anyone.
Before, I'd had some faith in the police, in the fact that at the end of the day, they were doing their best. But now, I couldn't help wondering if they'd been paid to make it all disappear. How else would the nosy journalists have absolutely no clue what'd happened to me?
The only person I'd ever told—other than the cops—was Nessa, and I knew she would never tell anyone, not unless I asked her to.
"Look," Nessa said, and I jumped, even though I'd known she was there. She gave me an apologetic look, and I shook my head. It wasn't her fault I was a scaredy mess.
Walking over to her, I peered at the laptop screen, blinking at the page. It seemed to be a website for a community center downtown, and she pointed at a picture of a room full of teenagers in the middle of some exercise. Self-defense class, according to the snippet of text beside it. I eyed the man she was pointing at, and realized I had caught glimpses of him a few times when he passed by.
He was tall, with wiry black hair that was trimmed short, dark skin, and darker brown eyes. He was in the middle of demonstrating some move, and I had to admit—he was handsome. Not that I was interested. That wasn't happening. Ever.
"How did you even find him so quickly?" I asked, and she rolled her eyes.
"His name is Pythor. Do you know how many Pythors there are in this city? One," she said, making me chuckle.
"He's handsome, he's clearly rich if he lives here, and he volunteers. Can you say 'the perfect man?'" she asked, and I eyed her.
"You like him?"
She snorted. "I would like him in my bed," she joked, then shook her head. "But I'm not his type."
"How would you even know that? You're beautiful."
"I know," she said with a wink. "And I know because while I basically eye-fucked him, he didn't even take a peek at these," she said, waving at her boobs. "You know which other man in my life doesn't care about these? You."
I chuckled, which made her smile, and she pursed her lips. "I have no chance with this one. You, on the other hand..." She trailed off, and I shook my head.
"Nope. Don't even think about it."
"But—"
"Nessa, please."
She sighed, then stood up and patted my cheek. "Fine, fine. I'm going to make some coffee, and then help you finish stocking up," she declared, then walked back to the counter, her flowy skirt swishing with every step. Nessa was such a perfect mix of badass and beautiful, and when she was around, her bright, cheerful aura was enough to push away the darkness that bogged me down whenever I was alone.
