Disclaimer: All stories are rated PG unless otherwise stated***. This blog is written by an innocent and respectable girl who is only ever accidentally cheeky 🙂
So, it was time to ditch the super expensive three-storey townhouse living for a one bedroom unit in what I like to call Melrose Place. Singles living at its best! Three-storey apartment buildings, but this time full of random people and with a special door that only I had the key to. The ultimate situation and a very exciting venture with lots of eye candy. Eye candy that I was positive was way out of my league. Surely! This is where I introduce ‘Antonio’ to you! ‘Antonio’… Oh ‘Antonio’. If only I could have understood your amazingly rich French accent to be able to call you by your real name. You may question why the nickname does not reflect ‘Antonio’s’ heritage. Blame my ‘living-vicariously-through-me’ friends. They made this story what it is…and what you are still to find out.
Before I go on though, let me give you a little picture of what Melrose Place living is. I braved the shared pool one day. A daunting place to go on your own for the first time. I didn’t know the rules. So, I dressed my wing woman in her swimming gear and we jumped in the pool. It was empty…excellent. We could make the rules. Until we realised that we had already broken them by actually getting wet. Person after person, group after group made their way down to the pool as it was a public holiday. The thing was though, no one got in the water. Everyone got their bikinis and muscles out and lay like lizards. iPods, magazines, body oil…total Melrose Place (and I never even watched that show). Thank god I had my wing woman. And, come on, it was a hot day. Water is for swimming in. Skin cancer is for losers. That’s what made me feel better for getting the rules wrong anyway.
So, I was getting to ‘Antonio’ wasn’t I! I was soon to realise that riding in the Melrose Place lift was going to be the highlight of my day. I was also to learn that every time I did not have my hair done, or make-up applied, or that oh-so-casual-yet-playfully-sexy outfit on I would see him. ‘Antonio’, you were going to be my ultimate distraction. Think an Enrique Iglesias kind of delicious. It began as I was unloading the lift on move-in day, dressed in my latest Elmo tshirt, hair a fuzzy mess and butt in the air. I heard his voice for the first time. (Insert amazing French accent) “Hello, welcome, my name is ________”.
*ARGH* Your name is what? Oh god…I didn’t understand that at all…what do I say?..OMG he is so hot! *ARGH* Dad and brother are sitting right here…Oh god, HOT NEIGHBOUR dreams coming true right now!!!!
“Ah hi, nice to meet you, I’m (mystery blogger girl)… Umm ahhh you’ll have to let me know if I make too much noise as *points to pet bird* (shit shit shit pet bird is not here yet, shit)… Yeah“. WHY did I have to bring that up now? I know the last neighbour didn’t like wildlife but come on, hot French guy doesn’t need to know this in the first breath. Be cool!
“Oh I see” ‘Antonio’ says casually. “Well I’ll give you a hot tip, if we close your bedroom door and your front door, I don’t think anyone will hear us…” *WINK*
OH MY GOD! He winked at me…he thought I meant….arrgghhh! I’ve done it again! Accidentally cheeky!
And then ‘Antonio’ was gone and my family were laughing at me. He said that out loud? And I thought I was going to play it cool? Oh man…
Oh ‘Antonio’, we will return to you later (Readers cheer YES as this means she sees him again…and do I ever!)