Needing Her by Molly McAdams

and left the apartments; each time the looks got longer, and the air got thicker. But I was still being a pussy. I was afraid of what I’d done while I was drunk that he’d want to talk to me about. At least yesterday I’d gone back to work, so I was able to have a legitimate excuse for not being able to talk to him.
    My alarm went off again, and I groaned as I tapped the screen on my phone to shut it off. I’d already snoozed it twice to try to stay in the dream I’d been having of the intense blue-eyed man next door . . . but I needed to get to work before my brothers came busting down my door looking for my “boyfriend.”
    With a heavy exhale, I practically fell out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. I wanted to go back to sleep so I could be in a place where I could stare at those blue eyes whenever I wanted. Where I could imagine the way his lips would feel against my neck as he pressed me against a wall. I wonder if I can get away with saying I have cramps today so I don’t have to go to—oh wait, shit, I did that last—
    “Oh my God! Holy shit, what the fuck?” I screamed and jumped back off my toilet when it popped like gunfire underneath me. Thank God I hadn’t started peeing yet. But, seriously, what . . . the hell . . . had just happened?
    My hand cautiously reached for the toilet seat, like the inanimate object might jump out and bite me. And with a determined huff, I grabbed it and threw it up.
    “Connor!” I screeched and ripped the bubble wrap off the toilet bowl. “You son of a bitch, I know you can hear me!”
    Pulling up my underwear and sweats, I stormed through my apartment, unlocked my door, and flung it open. A scream tore through my chest, and I jumped away as a trash can filled with water fell into my apartment as my door swung open. Mouth and eyes wide open, I just stared at the water-covered entrance and living room for long seconds before my mind started working, and I took off running for my bathroom again. Almost going into the splits on the way there from running on the wet hardwood.
    “I will kill you for this! You flooded my apartment!” I yelled, knowing full well he could hear me.
    Grabbing all the towels in the bathroom and linen closet, I ran back to my living room and started throwing towels everywhere as I continued to scream and curse Connor Green. Not five minutes into trying to dry everything so there wouldn’t be permanent damage, two different neighbors stopped by because of my screaming, and graciously lent me piles of their towels too.
    “What happened?” an older guy who lived across the hall from Connor asked. “And what’s with the trash can?”
    I gritted my teeth as I gathered soaked towels to take them to my laundry room. “All I’m saying is this, if you hear my neighbor yelling tonight . . . just know that he’s getting what he deserves.”
    The guy jerked his head back before continuing to pat dry my throw rug. “The guy I’m across from?”
    “The very one,” I hissed.
    He shook his head and huffed. “You’re saying this is because of him? I don’t buy it. That guy is the quietest neighbor I’ve ever had, and isn’t he law enforcement?”
    My face drained of expression as I stared at him. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean for me right now? I grew up with him. Pranks are kind of a phase we go through every now and then.”
    He just continued with shaking his head. “Just doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.”
    I wanted the guy to leave, but he was helping me dry my apartment. So instead of responding again and being snotty, I just walked back to the laundry room and threw the towels into the washer.
    Once we were done, I went to Connor’s apartment, but wasn’t surprised to find him gone. I figured he was at work, with how long he’d been off. Part of me was happy that there had been a prank at all. A very. Very. Small part, mind you. Because that meant that whatever weirdness had been going on between us was,