[chapter two]
Disclaimer: If you've heard of them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please. ;-)
**
~Jeff's POV~
Wow.
Okay.
The door clicks shut, and I turn to Jimmie. "That was your neighbor?" I ask, my eyes widening slightly at the girl who had just breezed out the front door.
"Jasmine?" Jimmie asks, bending over to open up the box she had dropped off. "Yeah, that's her. She's a riot."
I'll say.
"She seems … nice." I say instead, trying to be diplomatic.
"She's really sweet, actually. She's just a smartass. I think that's why I like her." Jimmie says, his voice muffled as he roots around in the box, spraying Styrofoam peanuts everywhere.
The girl in the tight leather pants and leather jacket who just walked out the front door is not exactly who I would have pictured as Jimmie's 'sweet' neighbor, from the way he's described her in the past.
Not to mention that he left out the fact she's … well …
Absolutely fucking gorgeous.
Geez, I thought my heart stopped when she walked in.
Jimmie made her sound like some old biddy who lives next door with her roommates, yelling at his loud music and tending her rose garden.
Not like … like some leather wearing, sarcasm spewing girl with the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.
"Yeah. Sweet." I repeat, for lack of anything better to say, and Jimmie looks up at me with an evil smile.
"She's pretty cute, huh?" He teases.
Why do I always blush when we talk about girls … women … well, whatever?
"She's very nice."
Jimmie raises an eyebrow and looks at me, but says nothing.
"Why haven't you two, ever … um … you should ask her out, Jimmie." I stammer, turning to go and sit back down.
"Nah. We're just buds. I mean, don't get me wrong, she's totally rad, but nah." Jimmie repeats. "Besides, Alex would probably kick my ass."
"Alex? Her boyfriend?" I ask, slumping in disappointment slightly.
Jimmie snickers. "Her brother. She lives with her older brother and two best friends. Scout and Jon. Nice guys. Big guys." Jimmie laughs.
"Oh."
I bet she has a boyfriend, anyway. Girls who look like that always do.
Or that she's a total bitch.
Girls who look like that often are.
I wince as I picture my ex-wife and Jimmie looks at me quizzically.
"So, uh, what's eight about?" I ask and he cocks his head.
"Huh?" He laughs. "Eight?"
"You said something about something still being on at eight."
I sound like an idiot.
Or like I'm in high school.
Jimmie laughs and nods in understanding. "Poker night. I go over every couple of weeks to play some poker, drink a few beers, have a few laughs."
"Ah."
I'm Mr. Eloquent today.
"You should come with me sometime."
"No, I couldn't … I … "
"You know, for someone so famous and well-spoken and everything, you are terrible at meeting people. How can you be this shy?" Jimmie smiles, and I know he's half teasing, half serious.
I duck my head and focus on the carpet. Ever since Brooke … she used to get so pissed, so defensive if I even spoke to another woman. I think I'm still expecting her to be in my face, yelling at me, crying, calling me a cheating, lying fucker if I even look at a girl.
And as for shy … well, hell, that's never really changed, Brooke or no.
I mean, I'm trying, but come on … these days, most people just want my autograph or my money or my fame or something from me. They could care less about who I am.
I know that. I've been around long enough, been burned enough times.
I just don't trust anyone. Not anymore.
Instead, I simply shrug in response and Jimmie laughs a little. "Man, I gotta find you a girl."
Find me a girl that looks like
Jasmine, and I'd die a happy man.