Midnight Muse

My betraying mind wanders into no-no territory again as I wonder just how good Mr. Tattoo would look lounging around in the sun like the people on the show. Is he covered from head-to-toe in ink or are there only a few tattoos scattered across his pale skin?

Quinn, what the fuck are you thinking?

“I’m still pissed off about it,” I grumble, picking at the cheese crusted to my plate to distract myself from the thoughts of the man from downstairs. It’s gone hard and cold, but I nibble at it anyway. I should have ordered popcorn to be delivered or something. A bottle of tequila, perhaps.

“I noticed,” she answers drily. “But you being pissed off isn’t going to make the motorcycle magically move.” She readjusts herself on the small futon, elbowing me in the process. Rory suddenly sits upright, an idea lighting those piercing eyes of hers. “Oh! Maybe if you stop being pissed about it, they’ll magically move. Let’s try that!”

I roll my eyes, parting my lips to speak, when loud, brash music cuts me off. Rory and I exchange twin looks of confusion, turning to where the sound is coming from.

It blares through the walls. Specifically, the wall that my bedroom shares with the apartment next door.

I whine, shoving my face into my hands.

As if the day couldn’t get any fucking worse.

“What the hell is that?” Rory asks, pushing to her feet.

“It sounds like a bunch of metal pans clanging together with a surprisingly nice beat,” I answer sarcastically. It’s not my preferred type of music, but I can admit that the voice harmonizing with the other banshee is quite lovely.

Rory shoots me a look, pressing her ear against the wall. I don’t know what she’s trying to do because I can understand each and every word being screamed from my spot in the middle of the apartment. I’m too tired to ask, though, as my attention is more focused on the damn truck sitting outside of the building.

“Should we go over and ask them to turn it down?” Rory questions, making her way back to my side so that I can actually hear her. I sigh. I am so tired of today. “That’s going to get annoying, fast.”

“We can always try not being pissed off about it,” I answer, using her own words against her. Rory’s lips tighten sourly and she shoots me a glare. Instead, I grin, continuing. “Maybe they’ll magically turn it down!”

“Shut up, loser,” Rory says, her harsh look ebbing a little. “I get it.”

Of course, it’s fucking him.

The bastard from downstairs. Only the person who made my already rough day even shittier would be the person I’m forced to live next door to for an entire year. His onyx hair is wet, unruly like he’s only just run a towel through it, sticking up in all directions. It should make him look stupid, but instead he looks incredible. It’s the perfect length, a few strands nearly poking him in those bright eyes that are narrowed on mine.

He’s dressed in a fresh, tight, black t-shirt that leaves very little to the imagination, stretched tight across his chest. The fabric cinches around his taut waist and it makes my mouth run dry. I can only imagine the muscles pointing to what lies beneath his low-slung jeans.

“Can I help you?” He asks, glaring from his spot in the doorway. His voice is a deep, delicious rasp that crawls up my spine. I trade a stunned look with Rory.

Her lips are slightly parted, eyes wide and sparkling as if she’s just seen her favorite sculpture come to life. I get it, and felt the same way when I first saw him, but then he went and opened his mouth to ruin the dreamy thoughts I was having about him.

He still looks great, unfortunately.

“Can you turn the music down? We’re trying to sleep.” I cross my arms over my chest and lift my chin, showing him that I mean business, even if he’s looking down at me from his over six-foot height.

His beauty doesn’t intimidate me.

Not at all.

That blank, jade stare flickers between Rory and I. He takes his sweet time surveying the both of us, eyeing my loose pajama pants, oversized Vulcan University hoody, and the way that my wet and tangled hair clings to my neck. My toes curl in my slippers under his scrutinizing gaze but I don’t allow myself to back down, steeling my spine.

I can’t help the way that my teeth grind when he assesses Rory in a similar fashion, a white-hot emotion flushing my veins like a tsunami.

“It’s nine-thirty,” he responds bluntly, as if we don’t know what time it is. The waves stir in the pit of my stomach like a whirlpool.

“We know that,” Rory tries, and she must catch the glare I’m stabbing him with because she keeps her tone light. Polite. Or maybe she sees how tightly I’m clenching my jaw at his words. She must have picked up on the fact that this is the asshole I was referring to when I told her all about the lobby incident.

I definitely downplayed his looks when retelling.

“We would appreciate if you would turn it down,” I finish for her because he doesn’t look like he’s understanding what she’s saying. Maybe he just doesn’t care. I can’t tell because I can’t seem to get a read on him and the stoic way that he holds himself. I find myself eager to pull any reaction from him, and an idea sparks in my mind as I continue. “We’ve had a long day. People here park like shit and we couldn’t get our moving truck out of the loading zone, you know?” I ask, faux innocently, and can tell that he doesn’t know where I’m headed with this. His eyes bore into mine, unblinking, and I force back the smirk tugging at my lips. “We had to call the towing company to get them to move that silly motorcycle. Isn’t that right, Ro?”

Right there. There it is, at the mention of that motorcycle that wouldn’t have stood a chance against the big moving truck should I have put it in drive and hit the gas a little too hard on accident. I almost wish that I did, to be honest.