Free The Neighbors by Ania Ahlborn

shook her head at him with a sly grin of her own.
    “Fine,” she said. “Some other time, then.”
    She turned away only to pause a moment later, glancing back to him before stepping back to the picket fence between them. She plucked a rose from her basket and laid it across the length of the top rail. And then she turned again, disappearing inside without a word.

CHAPTER SIX
    R ed Ward had been working his afternoon shift at the Pizza Pit just a block from Kansas City College when Harlow Beaumont stepped into his life, and she caught his attention right along with everyone else’s. Even flanked by her two foxy friends—a trio of Charlie’s Angels if there ever was one—Harlow stole the spotlight. She entered the place the way Bridget Bardot stepped onto a movie set—sizzling as she walked, her long blonde hair blown back by an invisible wind machine. With Creedence Clearwater pouring from the Pizza Pit’s speakers, she was a fantasy; a pair of bright orange hot pants paired with a white turtleneck; waves of liquid gold spilling over her shoulders, held in place by a white crocheted beret; legs for days.
    Red had always been the silent type. He gathered empty plates and plastic cups off the table he had been busing when the girls stepped into the joint before moving to the table directly behind Harlow and her friends. Sneaking a glance at the books she’d placed on the table—theology, not a subject he would have guessed—he took stock of everything he could without being noticed—anything to get next to a girl like her. But Red’s attention to detail didn’t turn him into an international spy. One ofthe girls noticed him staring and turned up her nose, motioning to her friends with a nod of her head, then confronted the busboy who was taking a little too much interest in their group.
    “Hey,” she said with a mouth full of gum, its sugary pink scent drifting across the table, breaching the distance between them as she sat there, fluffing her bleached-blonde hair. She wasn’t the kind of girl Red went for—loud, gaudy; Harlow’s looks were far from tame, but there was a mystery to her, like she was hiding some big secret, and Red wanted to be the guy who figured out what that secret was.
    “Hey,
you
,” the bottle-blonde continued, peering Red’s way.
    He stopped what he was doing, which was little more than straightening the salt and pepper shakers, and offered Harlow’s gum-snapping friend an innocent glance.
Who, me?
    “Yeah, you,” she said. “I saw you looking over here, hotshot. You wanna take a picture?”
    The girls giggled—all of them except for Harlow, who, rather than joining her friends in their needled chuckling, merely stared at Red with a half grin.
    Red looked down nervously, continuing to straighten the table, trying to look busy and uninterested. But his heart was hammering against his ribs. Harlow was the prettiest girl he’d ever set eyes on. He wanted to talk to her, but courage was failing him.
    “Did you see something you liked?” the girl continued. “Wanna get with me, huh?”
    “Maybe he wants to come disco with us,” the second Angel, a redhead, suggested. Her hair was a halo of fire, teased and curly. She leered at him when Red glanced her way, batting her green-eyeshadowed eyes at him.
    “You want to come disco with us, baby?” the sunshine blonde asked. “Or are you too busy making pizza all night long? Wanna roll my dough?”
    “Make love, not pizza,” the fiery one quipped.
    Again, they burst into laughter. The stunner between them cracked a knowing grin.
    Red watched the girls eat from a distance, keeping away from them, not wanting to scare them away—though there was a fat chance of that happening with those two. When the loud ones rose from their table, rowdy and laughing, the quiet looker remained seated.
    “What’s the matter with you, ’Lo? Aren’t you coming?” the blonde asked, shoving another wad of Bubble Yum into her mouth.
    Harlow shook