Neighbors With Benefits: Chapter 16

My blond neighbor grinned and held up a board game. “I brought Candyland. Haven’t played it since I was riding around on training wheels, but I thought it would be fun to try as adults.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were going to, uh…”

Bash narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re not putting our game night on hold just because Aiden is gone, are you? You’ll make me think you like him more than me.” He winked, then glanced beyond me. “Oh. I didn’t realize you had company…”

“I was just leaving!” Cat announced a little too enthusiastically. “Jazz was giving me some relationship advice, but I need to hurry home before I miss The Voice. Gwen Stefani really greases my peach, if you know what I mean.” She gave me a quick hug. “Talk more later, Jazz.”

Bash watched her go, then frowned at me. “Grease her peach? Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Cat is, in her words, an enlightened bisexual. Gwen Stefani was her teenage awakening. Come in! I’m sorry, I should’ve texted to see if you wanted anything from the Thai place…”

He followed me inside, brushing against my arm for a fraction of a second. “I actually had leftover Thai for dinner. This place over on College Ave. has the best pineapple fried rice.”

“Ah, I ordered from the restaurant three blocks from here.”

Bash unboxed the board game. “That one is fine in a pinch, but you have to try this other place. You’ll never go back.”

“Noted. I’m also in the market for a sandwich shop, if you have a recommendation. And no, I’m not a fan of Philly cheesesteak.”

Bash clutched his chest. “You wound me. I want to like you, but then you say something sacrilegious.”

“I’m full of disappointment, aren’t I?”

“I can ignore this one thing,” Bash said, giving me another wink. “But you’re on thin ice, neighbor.”

I grinned while we set up the game. As Bash read the rules, I got a text from Cat.

Cat: You know what would prove that things are just casual with you and Aiden? If you hooked up with Bash The Cute Blond.

Me: Stop it!

Cat: He’s wearing a tight T-shirt. His biceps are bulging!

Me: I thought you were focused on dating women right now?

Cat: That doesn’t mean I’m blind, Jazz! That man is a snack and a half!

Me: I’m ignoring you now.

“This game is a lot simpler than I remember,” Bash said, tossing aside the rules sheet. “Draw a card, then move to that color. That’s it.”

“Simple is good,” I said. “So many modern games have rules that you need a PhD to understand.”

“Preach, sister.”

We spent a few minutes focusing solely on the game. I tried not to notice the way Bash’s T-shirt fit his lean frame, leaving little to the imagination. And the way the blue color made his eyes pop…

Those eyes slid away from the board and met my gaze. “So how’s work? Going well?”

“Well enough, I guess!”

“What’s your typical day like at Top Golf? Arguing with drunk patrons?”

I chuckled. “Nothing that exciting. Now that I’m a manager, I spend most of my time setting schedules and dealing with supply deliveries. But I like that kind of thing, so I don’t mind! What about you? It must be frustrating traveling so much for work.”

Bash was shaking his head before I even finished the sentence. “No way. I love traveling.”

“Yeah?”

His face lit up. “I get to visit new places and meet different people. Every trip is different. That keeps it interesting.”

I moved my piece along the board. “What has been your favorite place to visit?”

He pursed his lips together. Lips which Cat would have called kissable. I wasn’t thinking that, though. Definitely not.

“I don’t think I can answer that,” Bash said. “Every place is unique. That’s probably what I have loved the most about this job: seeing just how diverse America is. And I don’t mean, like, racially. We’re diverse in everything.” He leaned forward on the table. “Think about all the different regions in this country. You’ve got New England, and the mid-Atlantic region. There’s the South. The Midwest. The Sun Belt, the Pacific Northwest, and California. Every one of those regions has its own accent, food, weather, terrain, and culture.”

Bash held up a finger. “But those are just the broad regions. You can drill down even deeper. Take New England. Boston, New Hampshire, and Maine all have totally unique cultures. The Midwest has Indiana, Chicago, rural Illinois, Iowa. None of them are the same. In the South, Alabama is different than Georgia, and neither of them are like North Carolina.”

“And Florida is its own weird little place.”

Bash gave me a wide grin. “Exactly! And you can drill down deeper and divide Florida up: Miami has incredible Cuban food and night life, Orlando is a giant Disney tourist area, the panhandle is its own little ecosystem.” He spread his hands. “That’s what I love about traveling. Discovering what makes each individual place unique. I’m sure all countries are this way to some degree, but I feel like America is more diverse than most. That’s what’s so cool about our country. Sorry, I know I’m rambling. But I love my job.”

“Don’t apologize! There’s nothing more attractive than someone who’s passionate about what they do. I dated a guy a few years ago who wasn’t passionate about anything. He worked in a 7-11, then came home and played video games. He had no other hobbies, opinions, or passions.”

“Sounds like a sad way to go through life,” Bash said.

I started to say more, then stopped. I had basically called Bash attractive, and compared him to my ex. It’s not like I was trying to flirt with him; it had just sort of slipped out. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to take it the wrong way.

That didn’t stop my cheeks from heating, though.

“Your turn,” he said.

“Sorry.” I drew a card, then moved to the next closest green space.

“Now that you’ve been here a month or so, how do you like it?” Bash asked.

“Do you mean this house,” I asked, “this neighborhood, or Philadelphia in general?”

“Yes, yes, and also a third yes,” he replied with a grin.

I chuckled. “The city is good. The neighborhood is great—I’m close to work, and can walk to get groceries if the weather is nice. And I’m really happy with this house. It’s the right size for me, and I live next to a bunch of really great guys.”

“You’ll have to introduce us to these so-called great guys,” Bash teased.

I made a face at him. “The only negative is that I have a lot of projects I want to do to this house.”

“Like what?”

I pointed at the wall. “Painting is my first priority. I hate the color in this room, the kitchen, and the guest bedroom. It won’t take long, but I loathe painting. I would hire someone to do it for me, but I’m not exactly flush with cash after the down payment on this place.”

“I hear that. After buying our house, Aiden and I ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every meal for two months. It’s all we could afford.”

“It’s all right, though,” I added. “I’m going to put on a podcast and start working on it this Saturday. If I can knock out two rooms by the end of the weekend, I’ll call that a win.”

“Hit me up if you need help,” Bash said while moving his game piece along the board. “I’m the least artistic person you’ll ever find, but I can paint straight lines with the best of them.”

It was nice of him to offer, but I certainly wasn’t going to burden him. That was a big ask. If the roles were reversed and a friend asked me to help paint their house, I’d block their number and find a new friend.

“What other projects are on your list?” Bash asked.

“Umm. I hate the tile in the bathroom. That needs to be replaced.”

“Really? What’s it look like?”

I got up and led him into the bedroom. It was all so innocent until we were inside, and then I was extremely aware that I had a boy in my bedroom. My dirty bedroom, with an unmade bed and two hampers full of clothes that needed to be washed. I hurried over to the pile and moved a T-shirt to cover up the panties that were on top, and hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“Here,” I said, pointing into the bathroom. Thankfully the sink area was clean; I had put away all my makeup and lotion this morning.

Bash shouldered next to me and peeked inside. “Ohh. Oh no. That tile is truly unfortunate.”

“Right?”

He crossed his arms while considering the tile. There were those biceps again, pressing tightly against the cotton of his shirt. If the teenage version of me had a guy as handsome as Bash in her bedroom, she would have lost her mind.

Stop it, I told myself. Don’t let Cat influence the way you think about Bash. He’s just a friend. And I’m sleeping with his roommate.

“Those tiles are too small for a bathroom,” Bash said. “It’s impossible to keep all that grout clean.”

“Yes! It always looks dirty, even right after I’ve scrubbed it!”

Our personal space remained intertwined, our arms so close they were almost touching. He smelled clean, like he’d taken a shower before coming over. I tried not to seem obvious while I inhaled his scent.

“What do you want to replace it with?” he asked.

“No idea,” I replied, walking out of my room. “I need to get some ideas off Instagram or something.”

“Run it by me first,” he said. “I’ve got a good eye for that kind of thing.”

“I thought you said you weren’t artistic?”

“Knowing what looks good? I’m amazing at that. Trying to reproduce it onto a canvas? All I can draw are stick figures.”

“The other big project is fixing up the greenhouse out back,” I said while we returned to the board game. “There are a few broken windows, and those that are intact need to be cleaned. Not to mention clearing out all the growth inside and hauling a few thousand pounds of fertilizer.”

“They’re going to think you’re the Unibomber,” Bash said, flashing a smile.

I frowned at him. “Huh?”

“Fertilizer can be used to make bombs. Sorry, it was a bad joke.” He picked up his phone and held the microphone close to his face. “If anyone from the FBI or NSA is listening, I was only making a joke. Please don’t knock down my door tonight—I’m too weak to be interrogated.”

“It would be my door they knock down—I’m the one you’re accusing of being a terrorist!”

He raised his voice while speaking into the microphone. “Definitely not a terrorist! No terrorists in either of these houses! Just two friends playing Candyland!”

“Two adults playing Candyland is probably even more suspicious,” I pointed out.

“Two neighbors drinking and flirting! Like normal!” he said a little more panicked.

The two of us laughed together.

Were we flirting? It seemed like it, but I was a bad judge of that kind of thing.

“Our other roommate would love to have a greenhouse,” Bash said while drawing another card. “He’s the plant guy in our house.”

“He’s been gone a while. He hasn’t been home since I moved in, right?”

Bash nodded. “He’s been on a long acquisition trip. Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, and Wisconsin. He should get home next week. I say should, because his schedule is a lot more chaotic than ours. Sometimes one acquisition leads to another, and his trips get extended.”

My phone buzzed with another text. When I saw the message, I grabbed it off the table before Bash could read it.

“One moment please,” I said while tapping my phone.

“No problem, I’ll grab another beer,” he said.

Cat: Seriously, Bash is even hotter than Aiden.

Me: That’s debatable.

Cat: Don’t you dare try to argue he’s not a tall, blond snack.

Me: A snack and a half, yes. He’s absolutely attractive. But I think I like Aiden more.

Cat: I don’t think you can make an accurate assessment until you’ve slept with Bash. Before that you’re just comparing sexy apples to swoony oranges.

Me: Shut up! I already have one neighbor I’m sleeping with! I don’t intend to make it two!

Cat: AH HAH! SO YOU ADMIT YOU’RE EXCLUSIVE WITH AIDEN! YOU CAN TELL I’M SHOUTING BECAUSE I’M USING CAPS LOCK!

Me: Oh my God. Just drop it already.

Cat: I’ll drop it if you drop to your knees and show Bash some REAL hospitality.

Me: That was a bad segue.

Cat: Yeah, that one wasn’t my best. But in case you didn’t get my euphemism: you should give him a blowjob.

Me: I got that, yes.

Cat: As in, put his penis in your mouth.

Me: Thanks for womansplaining oral sex to me.

Cat: Then suck on it until he experiences an orgasm, preferably in your mouth.

Me: YES I GET IT. YOU CAN TELL I’M SHOUTING BECAUSE I’M TYPING IN ALL CAPS.

“Who are you texting?” Bash asked. “You’re not talking about me, are you?”

He meant it as a joke, but obviously I was talking about him. Thinking quickly, I switched text conversations. “I’ve been laughing about this wrong number I texted a while back. Check it out.”

I showed him the weird wrong number conversation from the day of my housewarming party. Bash’s eyes widened as he read it, then a calm expression came over him. “Huh. That’s crazy,” he said in a monotone.

“I thought I was texting Aiden! I wanted to borrow dishwasher detergent! That stranger, whoever it was, decided to mess with me.”

“Yeah, they’re messing with you,” Bash said absently. “That offer definitely isn’t serious.”

“Too bad,” I said jokingly. “Having my own harem of men? That’s the dream, ha ha.”

Bash chuckled along with me, and we resumed the game.

But he seemed more distant after that.