R. Mathewson - Perfection

His fingers twitched with the need to yank the food out of the guy's hands and make a run for it.

"That'll be $26.50. I'm sorry it took so.....wait a minute," the guy said, frowning. "You're not a Bradford, are you?" he asked, quickly taking in Trevor's dark hair, good looks, and large muscular build.

"No, no of course I'm not," Trevor said quickly, fully prepared to tackle the bastard if tried to leave with his food. Granted, that may have been one of the reasons why he was placed on the banned list at Black Jacks, but they really should have known better than to show up at his door at eleven at night with someone else's order. Besides he'd only scared the hell out of the guy, there was no real harm done, at least that's what the Judge decided.

He wasn't exactly sure what the rest of the men in his family did to earn a place on the banned list, but he could guess.

The man took a small step back and Trevor prepared to lunge. He gestured with his chin towards the mailbox. "It says Bradford on the mailbox."

"That's my neighbor," he said, forcing himself to remain calm as he pulled his wallet out of his pants pocket. He pulled out two twenties and handed them to the guy who was still looking unsure about the whole thing. "Keep the change."

That seemed to make up the man's mind. He handed Trevor the food and a two litter bottle of Coke and smiled. "Thank you, sir. You have a nice night."

"I will now," Trevor mumbled as his mouth watered. He closed the door and turned around only to find his little tenant standing in front of him, glaring at the food in his hands.

"Is that my order?" she demanded as she pushed a strand of her wet mahogany hair behind her ear, narrowing her baby blue eyes on his face.

"Um, no?" he cleared his throat, realizing that sounded more like a question. "This is my order."

"Oh." She frowned. "Sorry," she mumbled, heading back to her apartment. He wasn't too surprised that she didn't bitch about him stealing the washer from her. She never bitched, making her his favorite kind of tenant.

He walked into his apartment and shut the door, eager to dig into his food. He set the food down on the coffee table and turned on the game, which was thankfully still in the second inning, and headed to the kitchen for a glass and a handful of napkins.

Just as he was about to sit down and help himself to the first slice someone knocked on his door. Having a pretty good idea who it was, he ignored it and sat down. The knocking continued for another minute before it thankfully stopped. He picked up a thick slice of that beautiful pizza and almost wept. It had been too damn long since he'd had a slice of the most perfect pizza ever made.

He was just about to take a bite when the slice of pizza was ripped out of his hands. It took him a minute to realize what the hell had just happened and by the time he did his eyes were narrowing dangerously on his frumpy little neighbor as she tossed the slice of pizza back in the box and closed it. Then she placed the box of chicken tenders on top and picked them both up and headed for the door only to pause and return for the bottle of soda.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Getting my order. I called. Not only did you not order this, but apparently you're on some sort of banned list," she said, heading for the door.

Trevor was up and over the couch in seconds, blocking her way. "That's my food!" he snapped.

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is!"

"I ordered it!"

"So what? I paid for it. Put it back and get the hell out of my apartment!"

Her eyes narrowed on him as she squared her shoulders. "Look, I've put up with a lot of crap from you over the past two months, but stealing my Black Jack's pizza after I had the worst day of my life is the last straw. So I really don't give a damn if you go crying to your aunt and whine about this and get me evicted. I'm taking my pizza home and I'm going to enjoy it."

A lot of what she said and how she said it pissed him off, but he forced himself to focus as he reached out and snatched the pizza from her hands, earning a surprised gasp and a rather cute little growl as he moved away from her. She of course stalked after him, he would too. It was Black Jack's pizza after all.

"What the hell have I put you through? I've been a fucking perfect neighbor," he pointed out, sidestepping her as she tried to snatch away his chicken tenders.

She snorted at that. "Puhlease."

"I have!"

"Really?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her faded blue tee shirt and rather large chest.

"Yes, really!" he snapped back, forcing his eyes away from her chest. Shit. If he was checking out a woman like her it really had been too long since the last time he got laid.

For some reason she took that as her cue to share. "You park in my spot so that I'm forced to park on the street. I've gotten four parking tickets thanks to you," she said, making him frown. "You steal my paper every morning. You run the water when I'm taking a shower, leaving me to freeze my ass off and with no water pressure! You blast your television all night. You're loud and so are your friends. Every time I go to use the washing machine you steal it or worse, you take my clothes out of the drier before they're dry and throw them on top of my dirty clothes."

When he opened his mouth to argue she continued, cutting him off. "And every night you watch porn!" she said accusingly, and he swore he felt his cheeks burn. Fuck. This was embarrassing. Well, at least she didn't say-

"And you're loud. Really loud," she stressed, further pissing him off.

"Look, no one stopped you from telling me all this shit before. You wouldn't have gotten any of those tickets if you had just opened your fucking mouth and asked me to move my truck. Same deal goes for the water. How the hell was I supposed to know you were having a problem with your water if you didn't tell me?" he demanded, not mentioning any of the other things since they just made him look bad.

"Why in the hell would I tell you about the water?" she demanded, trying to steal his pizza.

"Because I'm the landlord!" he snapped, yanking the pizza away from her sneaky little hands.

"No, you're not," she snorted, trying to steal his pizza again.

"Call up my aunt if you think I'm lying. I own this house," he said, stepping away, but not fast enough. The damn woman stole his chicken fingers.

She considered him for a long moment while he tried to figure out how to steal back his precious chicken tenders. "Why would you have your aunt pretend she's the landlord?"

"Because I hate dealing with tenants," he said, switching the pizza to one hand and swiping out with the other to grab the small box away from her. She simply moved it back and out of his reach.

"Well," she said, sighing, "then I guess you're the one I should inform that I'm probably going to have to move out in a month."

"Fine," he bit out, glaring at the box in her hands. If she tried to leave with his chicken tenders so help him he would-

"Okay, so give me back my pizza," she said, holding her hands out expectantly.

"No. You give me back my chicken tenders."

"No."

Something in him snapped. He wasn't sure if it was from hunger, the embarrassment from knowing that she could hear him at night, or just the bullshit in general, but he said something he regretted before the last syllable left his mouth.

"It's not like you need it."

Zoe felt her face burn and her eyes water as his words hit home.

"Oh shit....," he muttered, looking horrified.

Biting back a sob, she carefully placed the box of chicken fingers on top of the pizza box in his hands. "Bon appetite," she mumbled, heading for the door.

"Zoe, wait!" she heard him say, but she didn't stop. She ran into her apartment, shut the door, and ran upstairs, wishing for the second time that day that she had just kept her mouth shut.

She crawled onto her bed as she angrily wiped away the tears. After all the crap she'd gone through in the last couple of years she couldn't believe that a gorgeous guy calling her fat finally made her cry.

"What an asshole," she mumbled around a sob as she buried her face in her pillow.

It wasn't like she didn't know that she was fat, but having it pointed out by someone who looked like him was beyond humiliating. Granted, she knew he was saying it because he was pissed, and she did kind of, sort of go out of her way to embarrass him with that "you're loud" bit, but that didn't stop it from hurting.

She'd lost count of how many times over the years she tried to lose weight. Sometimes the diets would work and she'd lose a few pounds only to gain all the weight back plus some when something in her life didn't go as she wished or work depressed her more than usual.

Well, at least she didn't have to worry about binge eating after receiving another write up for using too many paper towels in the ladies bathroom, she thought dryly. Of course being unemployed was really depressing, but at least she wouldn't have to worry about binge eating while she looked for a job since she couldn't afford it.

What in the hell was she supposed to do now? She was unemployed and probably couldn't count on a good recommendation from The N.W. Corporation, the firm she'd been booted out of a few hours ago. Why hadn't she kept her mouth shut? She'd heard some truly frightening stories about how her old bosses treated their ex-employees. Had those horror stories stopped her from opening her big fat mouth?

Nope.

Stupidly she thought that they'd appreciate finding out where their money was going. She never expected them to show their appreciation by giving her a raise or a promotion or anything. She wasn't delusional after all, but she had hoped that they would relax their rules a little bit so that going to work wasn't so damn stressful, but really she should have known better.

Telling her immediate supervisor, who in turn let everyone know that one of the partner's wives was stealing from the company was a dumb move. She should have gone with her original plan and anonymously sent the file, but she hadn't thought the information would have been taken seriously unless there was an actual person behind the complaint. She should have known that Mr. Sands would take it out on her.

Now she was facing a future of living out of a car, again. Granted her car at this very moment was rapidly filling up with water or being vandalized and might not be livable come morning.

"Zoe," she heard Trevor say through the wall.

"Go. Away," she said into the pillow, unsure if he could hear her and really not caring. She had enough problems without adding his bullshit into the mix.

"I'm really sorry," he said louder.

She didn't bother answering as she lay there, hoping he would just give up and leave. Of course he didn't.

"I'm really sorry," he said, again.

Frustrated that he wasn't going away and angry with herself for crying, she rolled over onto her side and demanded, "For what? For being a jerk or for calling me fat?"

"Hey! I didn't call you fat!"

"What the hell would you call it?" she snapped back.

After a short pause he muttered something before saying. "You're right. I'm an asshole."

"At least we're in agreement about one thing," she said.

"Look, I'm trying to apologize here. Could you cut me some slack?"

She thought that over for a minute. "Are you going to give me back my pizza?"

His answer was a snort.

"Fine. Whatever. Keep the pizza," she said, half expecting him to offer to share it at least.

"Thanks," he said brightly, and she could have sworn it sounded like he was eating, but she couldn't really tell through the wall.

She grabbed Mr. Cuddles, the teddy bear she'd had since she was two, and absently ran her fingers over his worn little ears and button nose.

"So?"

"So what?" she called back, throwing a confused look at her bare lavender wall.

"So what the hell happened to you today to set off that little breakdown?" he asked as she heard a familiar hissing sound. Yup, he was eating her food and drinking her Coke, she thought with a resigned sigh.

"You don't think the shit you pulled was enough to set me off?" she asked, rolling onto her back and placing Mr. Cuddles on her stomach.