Needing Her

Chapter Two

Maci

TURNING THE WATER on in my shower, I waited for a good five minutes before stepping in, afraid that Connor would give me the same treatment I’d given him the night before. When I didn’t hear movement from his bathroom, I jumped in and stayed tense as I washed my hair and body, ready to get out at a moment’s notice if his water kicked on. When nothing had happened by the time I started shaving my legs, my body relaxed and I wondered again what was going on with him.

The Connor I’d grown up with was completely different from the one who had been hiding out next door for the last half year. He’d never been a very outgoing guy, but he also wouldn’t have let that prank last night go. Amber nailed it when she called him quiet and intense yesterday. Connor exuded this intensity that was somehow demanding and still managed to make you feel safe near him, which was probably why he had been such a good police officer, and now detective. But Connor’s way of dealing with most things was silently. The most I’d ever heard him talk was when he was with my brothers, but even then he was still the quiet and mature one. Almost like he’d lived a dozen lifetimes before and was simply going through the motions of this one.

But this Connor? The one I’d been trying to get a reaction out of last night was nothing like that. Over the last six months or so, Connor was no longer quiet and intense . . . he was gone. Physically and emotionally. I used to see him almost on a daily basis. He would always come into my apartment to use my Keurig because he forgot to start his coffeepot or was just coming in from a long investigation. I could count on both hands how many times I’d seen him in the last six months, and last night had been the first time he’d even said anything in months. He’d always been discreet about his home life, and shut down whenever anyone mentioned his older sister, Amy, but this was unlike anything I’d ever seen from him.

Shutting off the water, I stepped out of the shower and toweled off my hair and body before wrapping the towel around me and heading out to the kitchen for some much-­needed caffeine. As soon as I rounded the corner into my living room, a scream burst from my chest and I clutched the towel around me as I tripped over myself from trying to back away too quickly. I landed with a thud on the hardwood floor and scrambled backward before turning and crawling back into my hallway.

My breathing was rapid and I covered my mouth in case the intruder could hear me. Not like he wouldn’t have heard my scream, or seen me crawl away; but at the moment, quieting my breathing was much more important. When I’d calmed enough to remove my hand without screaming again, I shakily peeked around the corner and a terrified cry escaped as I jerked back to hide from the demon in my living room.

All my worst nightmares are coming to life!

Do I scream for help? Call 911? Oh my God, my phone is in my kitchen! Good God, get a freaking grip, Maci. It’s not even real.

I slowly turned and eyed the offensive, life-­sized blow-­up toy standing in my living room, and tried not to start crying when I saw the white face, red hair, nose, cheeks, and lips. Forcing myself to stand and walk over to the object, I failed at calming my shaking arm as I reached out for the note taped to its chest. A whimper still left me when I touched it.

I hate clowns with a passion.

My blood boiled when I read the words on the page. I was going to kill him. Like honest to God, I was about to go down for murder.

Don’t forget I still have a key to your apartment, Maci, and I’ve known you most your life. I remember all of your biggest fears.

This guy is for the shower, have fun finding my payback for the headboard banging last night.

I really do feel bad for the poor bastard that has to put up with that.

Connor

By the way, you’re out of your little coffee-­cup things.

I am so not out of coffee! I just went to the store a few days ago. Swear to God if that man took all of them, I wasn’t just going to kill him. I was going to kill him, then bring him back so I could junk-­punch him.

I began storming into the kitchen, but when I remembered his words about another payback, I froze, letting only my eyes move around to find any other threats around me. Tiptoeing the rest of the way to the kitchen, I opened the cupboard that held all the K-­cups and found two unopened boxes as well as one opened. I hadn’t moved them, Connor knew where they were, so why would he say they were missing? I reached up to grab one and immediately brought my arm back before investigating for anything suspicious. When it all appeared normal, I brought down a K-­cup and put it in the Keurig before going through the same process in the mug cabinet.

Grabbing the handle of the mug closest to me, I took a deep breath in and pulled it out quickly, prepared for something to be behind it. Nothing.

I bet there is nothing else and he just said that to make me paranoid about my entire apartment. With a heavy sigh I started to slide the mug into the slot on the machine when I saw it, and a scream that rivaled the one I’d had for the clown filled my apartment as the mug went crashing down onto the floor. A giant piece broke off and the tarantula spilled out.

“Not okay. Not okay. Connor!” I screamed as I jumped onto my counter and kept pointing at it on the ground. “Connor help me!”

When a few minutes had passed and Connor hadn’t come in, and the ginormous spider hadn’t moved, I slid off the counter and opened up a drawer closest to me. Grabbing the tongs, I walked closer and had to try three times before I could make my arm go far enough to touch the now obviously plastic tarantula.

This meant war.

Running to my pantry, I grabbed a trash bag and opened it up before using the tongs to deposit the disgusting eight-­legged beast in there, along with the two pieces of what had been my favorite mug. When the rest of the micro-­shards were swept up and thrown out, I went to my knife block and took out the massive chef’s knife before creeping back to my living room. An icy chill ran down my spine seeing the back of the clown, and I just knew that little bitch was about to come to life any second and turn around on me. With two deep breaths in and out, I mentally pumped myself up for what I knew I had to do and charged it with a war cry, slashing furiously until it deflated into a pile on my floor.

After I returned the knife to the block, I grabbed the tongs and put Bozo the heart-­attack-­inducing clown in the trash bag too.

Still in my towel, I stormed over to Connor’s apartment with my key ring in hand. As soon as I saw that bastard, I was going to punch him in the throat, throw the trash bag at him, and then run back to the safety of my apartment. But there was another note on his door with my name on the front.

1. No, I won’t help you with the big ugly spider.

2. If you made it this far without dying, I’m proud of you.

3. Did you really think I am stupid enough to stick around and suffer the wrath of Maci?

Yes. Yes, I did. And I’d lied about him being the mature one. I went back to my apartment completely defeated and exhausted even though I’d only been awake for an hour. And there was no way in hell I was about to check the rest of my coffee mugs to see if they were safe.

Grabbing my phone, I dialed the number at my office and waited until someone answered.

“Yep?”

“You know, if I can’t answer the phone with a yep then you shouldn’t be able to either.”

There was a beat of silence. “Are you on your way in?”

“Pfft. No, I have things I need to get done today,” I said as I grabbed underwear and a pair of jeans, and put them on.

“Like what? We need you here answering the phone, Maci.”

“Dakota, you did just fine answering it this time, and hardly anyone ever calls the office phone anyway. They all call our cell phones.” I put my phone on speaker and placed it down on my dresser as I grabbed a bra and angrily clasped it on. “I already told you I have things I need to do. So I’m not coming in to just sit there and play solitaire and Minesweeper.”

“This is Dylan, and what’s so important that you can’t come in?”

I stood up quickly from grabbing the shirt that I’d just dropped on the floor and glared at my phone as I thought back through our conversation. That little bastard. “If I wanted you to know what I was doing, I would have already told you. Just tell Dad I’m cramping or something, he won’t want to hear anything else. And don’t bullshit me, Dakota. Dylan only calls me ‘Mini,’ you’re losing your touch, bro.”

“Maybe I call you both. You don’t know me . . . you don’t know what’s in my head. Maybe I’ll call you Mack tomorrow.”

And this is why I never understood anyone’s attraction to my brothers. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my phone off the dresser and spoke over him as he continued to ramble. “Good-­bye, Dakota!”

After rushing through putting on deodorant and brushing my teeth, I threw my wet hair up in a messy bun, and didn’t even bother with makeup before heading out. There was no time for that. I had shit I needed to get done.

First things first . . . I needed to stop at a Starbucks, like, ten minutes ago.

Connor

THE NOTE WAS still taped to my front door when I got home later that night, but that wasn’t saying much. Maci had keys to my place too. I was surprised that my door didn’t have holes in it, though.

Cracking open my door cautiously, I inspected the small gap, looking for any kind of line or thread, and when I didn’t find any, I flung the door open and stepped back.

Nothing.

What the hell? Doors are Maci’s signature move . . . well, other than freezing my ass in the shower. I took silent and careful steps in as I looked around, inspecting every part of my apartment as I made my way to my bedroom. Going so far as to lift up the sofa cushions, and looking under the bed. But there was nothing.

Had the clown and spider scared her that bad? It wasn’t like she didn’t deserve it, and, hell, I’d been saving those for almost a year now since I’d played my last prank on her. If I hadn’t made sure her car was gone before I came back, I would have wondered if I’d actually given her a heart attack.

I’d just stripped out of my clothes and was walking into my bathroom when I heard a door shut. It could have been any of our neighbors, but knowing that it could be Maci, I jumped in the shower, turned on the water, and had the shampoo bottle in my hand within seconds. There was no way she was ruining two showers in a row.

The water didn’t start right away like I’d been expecting, and it made a weird noise before it sprayed out on me; but by then, I’d already turned around to inspect it. A string of expletives left me, and it took me a few seconds before I reached for the handle to turn off the water . . . but a few seconds was still too late. I had green, sticky water all over me. Grabbing for the showerhead, I twisted it off and brought it down to inspect it. There were green chunks in the base and after a few sniffs I yelled and slammed my fist against the wall.

“Kool-­aid, Maci? Fucking Kool-­Aid? This stuff stains—­oh shit!”

I turned the water back on and lifted the lever so the bath faucet ran instead. When I had as much of the leftover Kool-­Aid powder out of the showerhead as possible, I screwed it back on and turned the shower on. Reaching for my body wash, I flipped open the top and tipped it over to pour some into my hand.

“What . . . the hell . . . is this? Maci Price!” I yelled and threw the bottle—­of what was supposed to be my body wash—­out of the shower and turned to wash off the massive amount of liquid gold glitter that was now in my hand.

My body was still stained with green streaks, the water still had a light green tint to it, and while most of the glitter had gone down the drain, there was now a filmy layer on my hand that wasn’t going away.

I was going to ruin her.

Grabbing the bar of soap, I immediately began running it over my arms, chest, and stomach . . . but nothing was happening. There were no suds, it wasn’t lathering at all, it was working about as well as a plastic bar of soap. I stepped out of the shower, water dripping off me and threw the useless bar into the trash before searching through the cupboard, but, of course, the extra bars were missing.

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed a washcloth and stepped back into the shower and attempted to get everything off using that and the water. When I gave up minutes later, I grabbed my shampoo bottle again, but hesitated. Unscrewing the cap, I took a hesitant sniff and had to bite down on the inside of my cheek when a very distinct smell hit me. I turned the bottle over and watched as my shampoo laced with vinegar poured steadily out.

“Maci!” I yelled and shut off the water.

Not bothering with a towel, I stalked into my bedroom, slipped on a pair of drawstring sweats, and made my way to her place. I didn’t even knock, I just let myself in.

“You know . . .” Her calm voice reached me, and I stopped walking when I saw her on the couch. Leg up on the cushion as she sat there steadily painting her toenails. “Clear nail polish on bars of soap works wonders. Well, for my purposes, anyway.”

“Maci, look at me,” I bit out. When she didn’t look up, I snapped. Stalking over to her, I grabbed the bottle of clear polish and threw it across the room.

“Connor!”

“I said fucking look at me!”

Her eyes widened and she leaned back into the couch as I crowded over her.

“This isn’t funny. I have a job . . . a real job, something you would know nothing about, but I can’t go to work with a green fucking face, Maci!”

“Okay, it was—­”

“I don’t care what it was,” I said, cutting her off. “You better hope like hell that this comes off and that you have replacements for everything that was in my shower. And when I say “have” . . . I mean now.”

She licked her full lips and her eyes darted away before coming back to me. “Yeah, all right, I’ll go get them,” she said, her voice breathy as her eyes held mine.

When she didn’t make an attempt to get up, I leaned even closer and curled my lip. “Now.”

“I need you to move first.”

Shoving off the back of the sofa, I crossed my arms over my bare, stained chest and kept my glare on her as she hurried to the back of her apartment. She came back with a bag of all the extras that had been in my cupboards and I snatched it quickly away from her.

“You’re such a damn child, Maci. Grow the hell up.”

She visibly started and floundered for something to say as I walked to the door. “I’m the child? Are you kidding me? Like you had no part in this?”

“I scared you, that’s completely different than what you just did. If I get suspension for showing up tomorrow like this, you can be sure your brothers will be informed about your boyfriend.”

“You know what? Screw you, Connor! At least this morning you showed a part of the Connor I knew growing up . . . and at least you’re showing some kind of emotion right now. Even if you are being an asshole! Whoever you’ve been the last however many months is not you. You’ve been a fucking zombie. No feelings, nothing. So at least there’s something tonight. Glad to know you’re still human.”

What she said was hitting me hard. The fact that she noticed that much. The fact that she was right and this was the first time I could remember feeling anything, even if it was annoyance and anger.

Clearing my throat, I brushed away the realization that Maci could make me feel anything at all, and looked right into her gray eyes. “I’m the one with green skin, and you’re pissed off? Real classy.” With another deep breath, I left her apartment and went back to my shower for take two.

Maci

MY LEGS GAVE out and I collapsed onto the couch as soon as I heard his door shut. Jesus, was it ridiculous that I was still completely turned on from what had just happened? What am I saying; of course it was ridiculous . . . it was ridiculous to get turned on in the first place.

The way he’d more or less charged into my apartment and leaned into me so much that I’d had to lean into the couch had been what set it off. His throwing the nail polish that I’d used on his bar of soap across the room hadn’t even stopped me from noticing the way he looked in those loose, plaid-­flannel pajama pants that were hanging so low that I’d had a view to die for of his muscled V. Even in his anger, and the way he’d bitten out each word, I’d been completely lost in everything that was Connor Green. His intensity had filled my entire apartment . . . and it had been so. Incredibly. Hot.

But I hated the way he’d belittled me. I didn’t know if it was part of this new Connor, or if he’d just been trying to hurt me because he was upset; but he’d never treated me like that before. That had been the one thing to snap me out of my hormone-­driven haze that had my mind on a one-­way path that led to us in my bed.

If it hadn’t been for the way his face had fallen right before he’d left—­if it hadn’t been for the smallest glimpse of the old Connor . . . I wouldn’t be playing back every second of those few minutes again and again. His blue eyes spearing mine, the way the muscles in his arms contracted when he was using them to keep himself up on the sofa, and his demanding air that’d had my entire body heating.

God I needed a cold shower. And judging from the length of his first one, and the fact that his water had just shut off again, I knew that was exactly what I would get if I tried to shower now. But I knew just how bad Kool-­Aid stained skin, and I was positive he’d still have faded green streaks all over his skin. So instead of cooling down and trying to forget about the way he’d just made me feel . . . I did something worse.

I grabbed a box of baking soda and walked next door.

He glowered at me when he opened the door, and though his breathing was rough from trying to control his anger, he spoke in a deceivingly calm tone. “I’m still green, Maci.”

Trying to force my eyes off the towel he was clutching to his hips, and the drops of water that were racing down his skin, I dropped my head to stare at the floor and held up the box of baking soda. “I came to help.”

He huffed softly, his voice now holding a hint of a teasing tone. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“It will come off, you just need—­” I cut off when his fingers grasped my chin and forced my head back to look at him.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” His blue eyes searched my face, an unreadable emotion crossing his own. “You have no idea how much I hate that I scared you enough that you can’t even look at me now.”

I wasn’t looking at him because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from touching him. “You didn’t scare me, Connor.”

A sad smirk tugged at his lips, and he took the box from me with his free hand. “I know what to do with this. Go to sleep. I’ll come by tomorrow morning to clean up the polish.”

“But you—­”

“Please, Maci,” he said, cutting me off. “Go back to your apartment.”

I stood there staring at the door long after he’d shut it in my face. That had gone completely different from the way I’d thought it would. I’d pictured Connor sitting on the edge of the tub, me between his legs as I helped get the stain off his face, shoulders, and chest. Which, of course, turned into my hands running other places, and Connor picking me up and depositing me on the bathroom counter. I’d pictured my head falling back as he repeatedly slammed into me, me crying out his name—­

Jesus, my sex life was pathetic. I needed to stop reading so many romance novels.

“Don’t even try it, sweetie. He’s taken tonight.”

My head whipped to the right when I heard the sultry voice fill the hall, and my eyebrows shot up when I saw her. For fuck’s sake, she looked like a whore. I’d put on my skimpy pajamas in preparation for Connor getting pissed and coming over tonight, and I was more covered than she was.

“W-­what?”

She pulled her phone up to her ear and eyed me with a satisfied smirk on her face. “It’s cute that you’re trying to get his attention, but he needs a real woman to please him.”

I eyed her fake breasts that were one more bounce from falling out of her shirt and had the urge to cover my small ones.

“I’m here,” she said into the phone before dropping it in her purse. Watching the door expectantly next to me, she finally looked over to me again, one eyebrow raised. “You can leave now.”

I shook my head to clear the confused, and self-­doubted haze I’d just been in, and started backing away when the door opened.

“Maci? What are you doing out here?”

I looked up to see Connor in a pair of low-­slung jeans with the button undone. His chest bare and red from where he’d officially de-­greenified himself. “Uh . . .”

The whore pushed by me and into Connor’s apartment before turning to look at me. “She was staring at your door, trying to get the courage to knock on it. It was kind of cute . . . in a puppy-­looking-­to-­get-­its-­head-­scratched sort of way.”

Connor’s head shot back to look at me, his eyebrows bunching together as he studied me.

“No, I just . . . I just needed my baking soda back.” Oh my God . . . someone shoot me. How long had I stood there daydreaming about Connor? I’m such a creeper!

Whorey McWhore-­Slut choked out a laugh and grabbed Connor’s arm. His eyes had still been locked with mine, but at her touch he looked back to her and sighed. “I told you to go to sleep. I’ll bring it by tomorrow.”

“Aww, is it past the little girl’s bedtime?”

“Don’t talk to her like that, Sadie,” he growled. “Go wait for me inside.”

Sadie rolled her eyes and huffed. “Whatever.”

I knew tomorrow I was going to look back on this and wish I’d said something to her. But at the moment, I felt unreasonably mortified by this entire thing. Dressing for him, playing out scenes in my head with him, standing outside his door for who knows how long as I played them all out . . . again. And then seeing the type of girl he does go after. Tons of makeup, perfectly curled hair that I’d bet would light up like a dry Christmas tree. Tall, fake body, little clothing, and an award-­winning bitch-­tude. The complete opposite of me. Eh, maybe except for the attitude.

Finally remembering how to move, I turned and walked toward my door, ignoring the first time Connor called my name.

“Maci, stop,” he demanded and grabbed my arm as I opened my door. “Look at me.”

Locking my jaw, I fought back the tightness in my throat and wondered why the hell I was about to cry as I turned to face him. And I really regretted giving him the baking soda. Maybe if he still had a green face, Sadie wouldn’t be in his apartment right now.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded my head, afraid of how my voice would shake if I tried to talk. I need to focus on something other than my humiliation. Be pissed that she’s in there and acting like she’s better than I am . . . yeah . . . oh, no. Angry tears. Nope. No. Bad idea.

“Tell me why you were outside my door.”

“I did,” I managed to choke out without sounding like a strangled cat.

“Mace . . . did you . . . did you ever go back into your apartment?”

I hated that he had me completely figured out. I hated that his voice had gotten soft and low in a way that had my daydreams flooding back into my mind. And I freaking hated that even though I had been with Bryce just the night before, I was ready to cry over the fact that he was about to sleep with the slut in his apartment.

“Of course I did,” I hissed and tried to jerk my arm back, but he didn’t let go.

He sighed as he studied me, before finally asking, “Do you need the baking soda right now, or can it wait until tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

The corner of his mouth slowly tilted up into a smirk and he squeezed my arm. “Then I’ll see you in the morning, Mini.”

And that was the final, crushing blow. Every last ounce of air left my body as I launched myself into my apartment and shut the door. Mini. He fucking called me Mini. I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to laugh for being stupid enough to think that after years of wanting this man, something was finally about to happen. Or if I wanted to finally start crying over the fact that he liked women like Sadie and called me Mini. Like he was my brother or something.

When I was finally breathing again without feeling like there was a weight crushing my chest, I dragged myself to my bedroom and fell face-­first onto the bed. Not five minutes later, I got intimately familiar with Sadie’s voice, and I had no doubt she was being that loud because she knew I was right next door.

Grabbing my phone, I texted Bryce and went around collecting clothes for tomorrow. Not bothering with what I was wearing—­since I’m sure at least Bryce would appreciate it—­I threw a sweatshirt on over my camisole and slid into my flip-­flops before running out of my apartment and to my car.