Trouble with the Guy Next Door
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Guys like Tucker Moore didn't date girls like me. His boring ol' washboard abs looked like they'd been sculpted by the gods, and I had more curves than a backroad in a country song. He could charm the panties off anyone, but I was better off hiding behind my camera lens. He was my next-door neighbor and the definition of a bad idea. I had no business thinking about him, and I should've pushed him out of my dreams the moment he showed up. I should've taken a hard left into the friend zone instead of flirting with disaster. Which I did, faster than he could say "just friends." It didn't matter t...
Guys like Tucker Moore didn't date girls like me. His boring ol' washboard abs looked like they'd been sculpted by the gods, and I had more curves than a backroad in a country song. He could charm the panties off anyone, but I was better off hiding behind my camera lens. He was my next-door neighbor and the definition of a bad idea. I had no business thinking about him, and I should've pushed him out of my dreams the moment he showed up. I should've taken a hard left into the friend zone instead of flirting with disaster. Which I did, faster than he could say "just friends." It didn't matter that he spent more time in my apartment than his or that he smiled at me in a way that made my stomach flip. That was just Tucker. Before I knew it, he was my best friend. And completely off-limits. A weekend away was our downfall, and I must've left my logic at home. Tucker would be fine. But I'd end up in Trouble with the Guy Next Door.
