Perfection - Mathewson R. L. - Страница 5
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"Yes, really!" he snapped back, forcing his eyes away from her chest. Shit. If he was checking out a woman like her it really had been too long since the last time he got laid.
For some reason she took that as her cue to share. "You park in my spot so that I'm forced to park on the street. I've gotten four parking tickets thanks to you," she said, making him frown. "You steal my paper every morning. You run the water when I'm taking a shower, leaving me to freeze my ass off and with no water pressure! You blast your television all night. You're loud and so are your friends. Every time I go to use the washing machine you steal it or worse, you take my clothes out of the drier before they're dry and throw them on top of my dirty clothes."
When he opened his mouth to argue she continued, cutting him off. "And every night you watch porn!" she said accusingly, and he swore he felt his cheeks burn. Fuck. This was embarrassing. Well, at least she didn't say-
"And you're loud. Really loud," she stressed, further pissing him off.
"Look, no one stopped you from telling me all this shit before. You wouldn't have gotten any of those tickets if you had just opened your fucking mouth and asked me to move my truck. Same deal goes for the water. How the hell was I supposed to know you were having a problem with your water if you didn't tell me?" he demanded, not mentioning any of the other things since they just made him look bad.
"Why in the hell would I tell you about the water?" she demanded, trying to steal his pizza.
"Because I'm the landlord!" he snapped, yanking the pizza away from her sneaky little hands.
"No, you're not," she snorted, trying to steal his pizza again.
"Call up my aunt if you think I'm lying. I own this house," he said, stepping away, but not fast enough. The damn woman stole his chicken fingers.
She considered him for a long moment while he tried to figure out how to steal back his precious chicken tenders. "Why would you have your aunt pretend she's the landlord?"
"Because I hate dealing with tenants," he said, switching the pizza to one hand and swiping out with the other to grab the small box away from her. She simply moved it back and out of his reach.
"Well," she said, sighing, "then I guess you're the one I should inform that I'm probably going to have to move out in a month."
"Fine," he bit out, glaring at the box in her hands. If she tried to leave with his chicken tenders so help him he would-
"Okay, so give me back my pizza," she said, holding her hands out expectantly.
"No. You give me back my chicken tenders."
"No."
Something in him snapped. He wasn't sure if it was from hunger, the embarrassment from knowing that she could hear him at night, or just the bullshit in general, but he said something he regretted before the last syllable left his mouth.
"It's not like you need it."
Chapter 3
Zoe felt her face burn and her eyes water as his words hit home.
"Oh shit....," he muttered, looking horrified.
Biting back a sob, she carefully placed the box of chicken fingers on top of the pizza box in his hands. "Bon appetite," she mumbled, heading for the door.
"Zoe, wait!" she heard him say, but she didn't stop. She ran into her apartment, shut the door, and ran upstairs, wishing for the second time that day that she had just kept her mouth shut.
She crawled onto her bed as she angrily wiped away the tears. After all the crap she'd gone through in the last couple of years she couldn't believe that a gorgeous guy calling her fat finally made her cry.
"What an asshole," she mumbled around a sob as she buried her face in her pillow.
It wasn't like she didn't know that she was fat, but having it pointed out by someone who looked like him was beyond humiliating. Granted, she knew he was saying it because he was pissed, and she did kind of, sort of go out of her way to embarrass him with that "you're loud" bit, but that didn't stop it from hurting.
She'd lost count of how many times over the years she tried to lose weight. Sometimes the diets would work and she'd lose a few pounds only to gain all the weight back plus some when something in her life didn't go as she wished or work depressed her more than usual.
Well, at least she didn't have to worry about binge eating after receiving another write up for using too many paper towels in the ladies bathroom, she thought dryly. Of course being unemployed was really depressing, but at least she wouldn't have to worry about binge eating while she looked for a job since she couldn't afford it.
What in the hell was she supposed to do now? She was unemployed and probably couldn't count on a good recommendation from The N.W. Corporation, the firm she'd been booted out of a few hours ago. Why hadn't she kept her mouth shut? She'd heard some truly frightening stories about how her old bosses treated their ex-employees. Had those horror stories stopped her from opening her big fat mouth?
Nope.
Stupidly she thought that they'd appreciate finding out where their money was going. She never expected them to show their appreciation by giving her a raise or a promotion or anything. She wasn't delusional after all, but she had hoped that they would relax their rules a little bit so that going to work wasn't so damn stressful, but really she should have known better.
Telling her immediate supervisor, who in turn let everyone know that one of the partner's wives was stealing from the company was a dumb move. She should have gone with her original plan and anonymously sent the file, but she hadn't thought the information would have been taken seriously unless there was an actual person behind the complaint. She should have known that Mr. Sands would take it out on her.
Now she was facing a future of living out of a car, again. Granted her car at this very moment was rapidly filling up with water or being vandalized and might not be livable come morning.
"Zoe," she heard Trevor say through the wall.
"Go. Away," she said into the pillow, unsure if he could hear her and really not caring. She had enough problems without adding his bullshit into the mix.
"I'm really sorry," he said louder.
She didn't bother answering as she lay there, hoping he would just give up and leave. Of course he didn't.
"I'm really sorry," he said, again.
Frustrated that he wasn't going away and angry with herself for crying, she rolled over onto her side and demanded, "For what? For being a jerk or for calling me fat?"
"Hey! I didn't call you fat!"
"What the hell would you call it?" she snapped back.
After a short pause he muttered something before saying. "You're right. I'm an asshole."
"At least we're in agreement about one thing," she said.
"Look, I'm trying to apologize here. Could you cut me some slack?"
She thought that over for a minute. "Are you going to give me back my pizza?"
His answer was a snort.
"Fine. Whatever. Keep the pizza," she said, half expecting him to offer to share it at least.
"Thanks," he said brightly, and she could have sworn it sounded like he was eating, but she couldn't really tell through the wall.
She grabbed Mr. Cuddles, the teddy bear she'd had since she was two, and absently ran her fingers over his worn little ears and button nose.
"So?"
"So what?" she called back, throwing a confused look at her bare lavender wall.
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