I'm smart enough to know he'll never be anyone's forever.
He checks all the bad boy boxes. Tattoos. Check. Motorcycle. Check. Chip on his shoulder. Check check.
If he wasn't my neighbor and friend I may have thrown myself at him. Okay, yeah. I wouldn't. Because guys like Dylan don't want a woman who writes kid's math textbooks under him in bed. Instead, I pathetically savor morsels of moments where I have his sole attention.
That was until his archenemy moved in with me. Now suddenly, Dylan's moving in too and warning off the first guy in a long time who's showing me interest. Could he finally see me as more than a friend, or am I just a prize to win and show off to his enemy?
