She licked her lips, and he fought a groan. She blew across his finger, and the eyelash flew away.

“I guess I shouldn’t ask what you wished for or it won’t come true.” Damn, he sounded gritty. But he was so keyed up he was proud of stringing words together to form a sentence.

Silence built between them, and he knew it had to be more than just him feeling it. Yet they waited to see who would make the first move.

Justine took a step closer.

Xavier’s heart threatened to pound out of his chest.

“Oh, are the washers empty? I see the dryers going.”

They sprang apart like cats doused with water. Xavier turned to see Sam holding a large bag full of laundry, the kid’s attention fixed on the washing machines.

Justine cleared her throat. “No, Xavier and I just put our stuff into the dryers. You have the washers all to yourself.” She smiled brightly at Sam, then at Xavier. “See you guys later.” She danced out of the room in a hurry, and Xavier was left with a thirteen-year-old going on forty.

The newly crowned teenager glanced at the empty doorway. “Sorry, dude, but she’s too young for you.”

Amused despite his tension, Xavier raised a brow. How old did Sam think he was? “Oh?”

“Besides, I’m going to ask her out again. She likes younger men.”

“Is that right?” That wacky previous moment of stress broken, Xavier felt both disappointed and relieved to be back to normal. “Well, for the record, I think your love interest is more into older men, ones who can at least drive.” He looked around. “Better keep your brother away from her. He’s got his permit, doesn’t he?”

“I know. I’ve been keeping watch, don’t worry.” Sam sounded so serious and determined Xavier had to laugh.

“Need any help with your laundry?”

“Um, sure. That would be good.”

Xavier helped the boy, listened to an earful about his uncle not allowing him to do anything fun, like jumping off bridges or hanging out after dark with his friends in the city, then left for his apartment.

He wondered if he should confront Justine about their odd bouts of attraction. But what if he’d been overthinking the situation? Could he have misread her intentions? What if she hadn’t been leaning in for a kiss? He’d been the one to initiate touching her, after all.

He went back to his drafting table to color some new panels, alarmed at how he might have projected his feelings into the situation. The more he thought about it, the more he got wrapped into his head and tried to help himself out through a deeper analysis of his feelings, of what had truly happened.

By the time he readied for bed that night, he realized he must have misread Justine and that he needed to find someone else to help him satisfy his needs. Because at the rate he was headed, he was on the course to ruin things with his new friend and neighbor. Not a great situation at all. Because one—he liked living here without any drama. And two—he really, really liked Justine.