Classy AF

Raoul 

I have an issue that comes in a tidy, neat little package—my neighbor. She's driven me out of my mind every day since she moved in a year ago. To add salt to the wound, she's a nurse and the sister of a tattoo artist, and I have a massive phobia of needles.

I think it would be okay if she'd just stop giving me her special smile every morning, stop being cute, stop giving me that attitude that drives me out of my mind.

I'm lying. Rose could wear a paper bag over her head, and I'd still want her.

The problem is, we're the complete opposite of each other. I mean opposites in everything, including the fact that I'm me—the most normal guy out—and she's classy AF.

I'm not sure that's enough to stop me, though.

Rose

Grumpy Raoul Evans, oh, how I do love to mess with him.

Smiling and waving at that glare he gives me every morning, the flowers I plant in front of his house, the packages of needles that accidentally fall out the pocket of my scrubs onto the floor in front of him. It's all just so much fun. 

It used to hurt me when he glared at me, but then I decided to enjoy it and just seize the day, so now I do that every day. I'm sure at some point I'll push him too far, but today is not that day. Maybe tomorrow? 

He says I'm classy, I say he's grumpy, and the rest of the world says opposites attract. I know I'm attracted to him, but until he starts feeling the same way toward me, or I make his head explode, I'm just going to enjoy pushing his buttons.