Page 109 of Loathe Thy Neighbor

Looks like the clock on this game we’re playing is winding down, and we’re nearing the final buzzer.

The craziest part? I want to keep playing.

I just have no idea which team River’s on.

“I have literally zero idea about this sport,” she says, flipping through the program. “You’re going to have to explain it.”

“Your guess is going to be as good as mine. I’m a roller derby virgin.”

“Don’t worry,” Caroline says in front of us. “I’ll have Cooper explain it to you when he gets back with snacks. He loves it.”

“Coop is here? Thank fuck. Thought I was going to have to endure spendinganothernight alone with River.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” I throw my arm around her shoulders, but she shoves me off.

“Don’t touch me,” she says.

“Uh-huh. Just remember that later when you’re begging me to do just the opposite.”

A giggle comes from behind us and I peek at who’s listening in.

It’s the woman from the elevator, the one who said she always knew we’d get together. I still can’t remember her name.

“Such a cute couple.” She grins. “When did you two start dating?”

“Uh…” I scratch at my stubble.

It’s one thing to tell a twelve-year-old we’re dating for the sake of not explaining the term FWB, but it’s another to use the same lie with someone else.

That starts to make the lie a whole lot more real.

“A little over a month ago now,” River answers.

I raise a brow at her, and she shrugs with a grin.

About ten people around us, most from our building and a few from the diner, mumble and grumble. Someone sitting three seats down whoops with delight.

“Pay up, suckers!”

Caroline spins around in her chair, scowling at us. “You two just cost me fifty bucks.”

Money starts changing hands, everyone forking it over to the little old lady sitting at the end. It’s Mailbox Betty, a nickname earned for always sitting around the mailboxes snooping on packages and eavesdropping on conversations. Everyone in the building knows she’s the gossip queen.

“I told you all!” She collects the cash coming her way. “I had a hunch.”

“A hunch? You’re just a nosy old bat!” someone shouts from two rows to the left behind us.

“Uh, what the hell is going on?” River asks, looking around the crowd. “Caroline?”

She winces, her cartoon-like blue eyes filled with terror and remorse. “Funny story…”

I snicker, remembering what River said about that phrase.

“There was sort of a…pool going on,” Caroline continues. “In the building and at the diner.”

“A pool?”

---