Page 16 of Naked Coffee Guy
Even more, I know he knows.
He stands there alone, his hands in his pockets as I continue the song. But this time, I change the lyrics completely so that there’s no doubt who I’m singing to.
You’re not a man who’s used to hearing no.
Because when you kissed me, I tried to tell you so.
Wearing her drink looks so damn good on you
Joke’s on you, bud, because you’ve lost me too.
It’s a total bitch move on my part, and I’m trying to wrap my callous heart around it without letting my conscience penetrate my soul. But then Mac smiles, and fuck if it doesn’t go straight through me, even as I keep my poker face on while finishing the song.
The crowd erupts in applause, plus some laughter from those in the know. And Mac? He tilts his head at me as if I’ve won this round—as if there’s a round to be won—then he turns and leaves. From the lack of satisfaction I feel, I think he’s the one who actually won.
And I can’t help wondering if I’ll ever run into him again.
Chapter Seven
Maren
I mean, of course I’ll run into him again. He’s my goddamn neighbor. Which obviously means I have to move.
I realize this as I stand at the window, watching him on his daily near-nude stroll around the block, unaware he has a fanbase.
Literally. I saw it on Nextdoor, a whole entire thread dedicated solely to Mac Dermot. Plus the TikTok video of him that went viral last week. I practically lost my shit over that one. Then Nina and I watched roughly 800 of the two million views it had already amassed.
Thing is, no one knows his name. Or who he is. Or anything about him at all.
No one, but me.
And now, as I hide behind the curtain clutching my own coffee while watching his muscles ripple under the rays of the just-rising sun, I contemplate other places I could live. Seattle, maybe? They have an epic coffee scene. Maybe someplace in the Midwest where I could afford a house three times the size of this one for the price of my old apartment.
But I don’t want to move. I mean, yes, eventually. Nina’s clutter is no joke, and I’m not the kind of person to clean up after others, so it would be nice to move into my own place again. But for now, this is home. It’s the only way I can continue living in Sunset Bay and work at Insomniacs, both of which I actually love. And it allows me to be near Claire’s family, which is most important of all.
So I’m just going to have to learn to live in the same neighborhood as that hunky Viking dipshit. Looking at his ass as he continues his stroll beyond our house, I can see it will be hard (all puns intended) but manageable.
Oh, and he can never know I live here.
“Enjoying the show, I see?” Nina says, snickering as she joins me at the window.
“Fuck, that man,” I breathe.
“Trust me, we all want to.” Nina laughs, while my cheeks feel flush at how close I came to fulfilling that desire. “Want to ride to work together since we’re working the same shift?”
I take in her robe and messy unwashed green hair. We have to be there in fifteen minutes, and she needs at least forty-five.
“Nah, I’m about to leave in five. I’ll meet you there.”
She shrugs as she opens the fridge. Then she stands there, contemplating the food. Did I say forty-five minutes? I’ll be lucky if she shows up in an hour.
As I exit the house, I look up and down the street before leaving the safety of the open front porch. Mac is probably on the other side of the neighborhood by now, but I can’t be too careful. This is going to get old really quick, I know it.
I slip into my Honda unnoticed, then pull away from the curb. I go the opposite direction he did, even though it’s the long way to work. Two turns and I’m almost out of the neighborhood, sight unseen.
Then I see him. Or rather, I almost run him over.
He’s crossing the road as I make my next turn, and I have to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting him. Mac’s hand thumps the blue hood of my car as a reflex, and the impact leaves a dent in its wake. My eyes are like saucers as his meet mine, and I see his expression transition from shocked anger to slow recognition. His bare tatted chest expands as he takes a deep breath—maybe to say something, maybe to yell—and I have a split second to decide what to do. Apologize and clear the air about the reasons I hate him, which haven’t stopped me from thinking about the way he kissed me, and how I want to do it again. Or escape and pretend he never saw me at all.