Page 6 of Neighbors With Benefits

“Wait! You still haven’t given me your phone number.”

“Oh, yeah.” He rattled off a number, which I typed into my phone.

“There. I just sent you a text.”

“That was Bash’s number,” he said, backing away from me. “Seriously though, text anytime!”

I frowned at him. Something was definitely off. He was more awkward now than he was at the housewarming party, and he refused to give me his number.

A thought came to me. I shook my head. There was no way…

“Why don’t you give me your number?” I asked a little more forcefully than before. “Are you… hiding something?”

It felt like a harsh accusation. He didn’t owe me anything, and I was the new girl on the block. But something was off.

He stopped and turned around. “My number is five-five-five, eight-one-six, four-four-nine-three.”

I dialed the number, waiting to see if it would ring, certain that I had caught him in a lie…

3

Aiden

One Day Earlier

“Your serve,” I told Bash, tossing him the wiffle ball. “No pressure.”

He caught the ball and took his spot behind the line on the Pickleball court. “Ten to five. Match point.”

Bash served, and our opponent hit his return at me. I stepped into a forehand shot, firing it cross-court to the other opponent and using the momentum to move closer to the net. By the time he was hitting it back at us, I was in the perfect position to smash the ball for a winner.

We shook hands with our opponents, then chest-bumped in victory. After notifying the scorekeeper table of the final score, we went inside to get celebratory beers. This was the third week in the Pickleball tournament, and we were undefeated.

“This was worth leaving the housewarming party early,” Bash said.

“You wanted to stay?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I was having a good time. And Jazz seems cool.”

“Better than our old neighbor,” I muttered. “I swear he was a CIA agent or something.”

“CIA agents are supposed to blend in,” Bash pointed out. “Jerry was a grumpy recluse who yelled at anyone who drove by faster than ten miles per hour.”

“He was weird. Jazz is an upgrade for sure.”

He clinked his beer to mine. “Cheers to that. And speaking of women, did Carmen text you while we were playing?”

I shook my head. Pickleball had taken my mind off things, but we were supposed to hear back from Carmen by now. The longer it dragged out, the more I was certain she would reject our proposal.

“She’ll text eventually,” Bash said. “And if not, we’ll find someone else.”

“Someone else open to… our situation?” I asked doubtfully. “Yeah, right.”

Bash clapped me on the shoulder. “Good things come to those who wait, my friend. Everything will work out.”

“You always say that.”

“Because things always work out.”

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