My jaw fell open, and Gerald jumped to his feet. “The fuck’s your problem, asshole?”
Gerald stalked toward Foster, but Foster didn’t move. He simply stared the coldest stare I’d ever seen a person give another. Even my blood chilled, and the look wasn’t directed at me.
“Yes, please,” Foster said smoothly as Gerald neared. “Give me a reason to hit you. I’d so enjoy that.”
Gerald halted, clearly disconcerted. “Look, man. I don’t know what your problem is, but don’t fucking threaten me. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“I know exactly who I’m dealing with.” He pinned me with his gaze. “But there will be no problem as long as Cela comes with me and you don’t ever talk to her again.”
“She doesn’t have to go—”
“Hold up.” This was going downhill fast. Sammi was barking at my feet, and Foster looked as if he could truly kill Gerald. I hopped off the table, my hands out in front of me. “Both of y’all just calm down. I’ll go.” I looked to Foster. “I’ll go, all right?”
Gerald straightened. “If this guy—”
“It’s fine. He’s a friend.” I stepped next to Foster, and he immediately grasped my elbow, as if afraid I’d change my mind. I had no idea what was going on with him, but the last thing I wanted was a brawl outside the apartment complex. “I’ll see you later. Bye, Sammi.”
The dog did a little spin and yapped happily in reply.
“Let’s go.” Foster turned me with him without another word and led me toward the building.
But I wasn’t letting him get away without an explanation. As soon as we cleared the lobby doors, I turned toward him, shaking his grip. “What the hell was that? Have you lost your mind?”
“You don’t need to talk to that scum,” he said, the disgust clear on his face before he turned to climb the stairs.
I followed behind him, seeing red. “Excuse me? Did I miss the part where you have the right to tell me who I can talk to?”
He spun around, two steps higher than me, expression grim. “Gerald Mondale is a registered sex offender. He used to be a high school teacher until a freshman girl came forward with molestation charges. He got early parole on a technicality.”
My stomach dipped. “Oh my God.”
Foster climbed up the rest of the stairs, and I trailed behind in stunned silence. Gerald? The neighbor I’d chatted with almost weekly about his sweet little dog? When we both reached the hallway, Foster turned back to face me. “I know I don’t have the right to tell you who to talk to. But when I saw you with him, heard him make a pass at you, I wanted to choke the words right out of him. Promise me you’ll stay away from him.”
My throat was knotted and dry, the post-danger rush of adrenaline filling my veins. But I managed to nod. “Sure, yeah, I promise.”
He gave a swift, matching nod. “Good. Thank you.”
I stared at him for a few long moments, the from-a-distance crush I’d had for him before Friday night now morphing into a desperate longing inside my chest. I wanted to step forward, press against him, loosen that tie from around his neck and wipe that tense expression off his face. But everything about him said I wasn’t invited. I tore my gaze away to glance toward my apartment door. “Well, I better get going.”
“Cela . . .” he said, his gentle tone tearing into me.
God, why did that make me want to cry? What the hell was wrong with me? I’d seen Pike in the hallway earlier when I was heading out, and it hadn’t been like this at all. I forced my gaze back to his. “So is this where we have the awkward ‘let’s still be friends’ conversation?”
He frowned. “It’s not like that.”
“Right. So if I asked you over for dinner . . .”
He glanced away, his guilt like a fog invading the small hallway.
I shook my head, more disgusted with myself for asking the question than his response. “See you around, Foster.”
Before he could respond, if he had even planned to respond, I unlocked my door and shut him out.
The stupid tears came then.
So much for not getting my feelings involved.
Epic, one-night-stand fail.