Common Sense Doesn't Become Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

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the bar' jeans, since everything else was dirty. I put on a purple
lace bra to encase my size C cup girls. They were always happier in
something pretty. I did not have a single pair of underwear left
that was clean, unless I wanted to wear my thong underwear. That, I
usually saved for fun date nights, like I use to have with Steve.
That thought caught a hitch in my breath. I threw my shoulders
back, my head high and dug in my closet for a top to wear. I picked
out a purple Colorado Rockies tee shirt I liked to wear to the ball
games I went to with my dad. I slipped on my matching purple
flip-flops. I like to color coordinate my casual clothes, so sue
me, besides, my mani-pedi, required flip-flops.
    I grabbed my overstuffed, oversized laundry
basket, a roll of quarters, and headed for the basement laundry
room in my apartment with its industrial sized washers and dryers,
three of them. I had a plan to get my delicates, my whites and my
darks done all at the same time.
    The elevator was taking forever, and I did
not want to carry my laundry basket down in flip-flops. I did that
once and spilled laundry on the stairs in front of old man McCarty.
That was not a good idea. He about had a heart attack at the sight
of my bras and underwear spewed out in his doorway. I guess if I
had not made such a god-awful sound, he would not have come out of
his apartment to find all of it sprawled out in front of him like a
lingerie display.
    I set my basket down and got my cell phone
out of my purse. I texted Marion that I was good now. Laundry day
and pedicure, and I was good to go. I did not mention the cake. I
would save that for a girl's night out moment, along with the news
about the naked neighbor, my singing in my apartment drunk, and the
slipping on spilled drink moment. I would be sure not to leave out
my mom's message because Marion always had a way of making me see
things in a less hurtful perspective. It helped to hear it from my
best friend any ways.
    By the time I slipped my phone back in my
purse, the elevator dinged, and when it opened, I was not prepared
for who would be inside of it. There, staring down at his phone was
my neighbor. He looked up, just as I wanted to run back inside of
my apartment. He stepped out, said good morning, grabbed my laundry
basket and made a casual note that it must be laundry day.
    I stood there feeling awkward and then while
he was holding the elevator door open for me to step inside, it
started to ding an alert. "Better hop on in before it breaks down
again." His smooth sexy voice matched his body, and I was in some
serious womanly trouble. I took a step inside and feigned a smile
that did not match how I felt. I felt some serious sexual vibes,
and my nerves were not up to the task this morning. Then he said
something that was so romantic I whirled around like a ballerina,
internally any ways. "Although, being stuck in a broken-down
elevator with someone like you would be alright."
    Of course, the first thing I said to him, but
more out loud to myself, made absolutely no sense to him as I let
it come out all breathy and unbelievable. "You're eyes are blue.
Light blue with a hint of green, but you look Hispanic." Perhaps my
comment sounded prejudice, yet I was anything but. It was just
after sneaking a peak at him naked, I had envisioned him with dark
intense eyes; eyes that I wanted to roam my naked body. I had to
get these sultry thoughts out of my head as we were standing in a
very enclosed space.
    An awkward smile crept across his face as the
door began to close behind us. He hit the button for the basement
as I just stared into his eyes. I could easily get lost in them.
Everything about him said Latin bad boy yet his eyes, they were so
soft and colorful, so innocent looking. Then he said something, and
I shook my head back and forth quickly to clear the daydream I was
in. I looked down at my laundry basket in his hand, perched on his
hip. He is strong. His muscles rippled from the sleeve of