Page 101 of Loathe Thy Neighbor

So why do I feel myself beginning to want more with her? I haven’t been interested in a relationship with anyone in a long time. Why the fuck do I suddenly feel like it might not be a crazy idea with River, of all people?

I swear I’m going crazy.

“Does she know?” Nolan asks.

He can tell I like her. He doesn’t have to hear me say it to know.

“No. I’m like ninety-five percent sure she still hates my guts. This is all just sex for her.”

He laughs lightly, turning back to the TV. “Trust me, she doesn’t hate you. She wishes she did, but she doesn’t.”

Fuck me if I don’t hope he’s right.

* * *

“Doyou always have to hog the bed?”

“Last I checked, it’smybed—I can hog it all I want.” She shoves at me, trying to force me out, but I’m too heavy. “Why are you even still in here?”

“Because my bed is an air mattress, that’s why.”

And because you sleep better when I’m in here.

I’ve stayed in River’s bed almost every night since we started sleeping together. Mostly because we’re always fucking or fooling around, but also because it’s become increasingly obvious that she sleeps better when I’m here. The few nights I didn’t stay over, I woke up to her on the air mattress beside me.

“That’s your own fault,” she says, still shoving and getting nowhere.

Accepting defeat with a huff, she abandons her mission. She reaches over to the nightstand on her side, grabbing her laptop and pulling it over into her lap.

The glow from the screen illuminates her face, and she looks so fucking cute when she’s concentrating.

A wrinkle forms between her brows and she twists her bottom lip in her fingers. Her long red locks are piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and she’s wearing her standard bedtime attire of a camisole and panties.

I keep trying to convince her to try sleeping naked like me, but she won’t budge on it.

“Working this late?” I ask.

“The grind never stops.” She taps the keyboard a few times. “Our online store is doingreallywell, and I’m getting more items added to the website to meet demands. Plus, I’ve been a little distracted lately and I’ve fallen behind. Or at leastmyversion of behind.”

“You’re very passionate about your work.”

She peeks down at me, and it’s clear she’s going on the defense.

I hold my hands up. “I don’t mean any offense by that. Truly. Your work ethic is inspiring. A little worrisome that you don’t take more time to shut off and step away, but still inspiring.”

Her eyes spark with surprise and something else I can’t quite decipher.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “That’s…well, I like hearing that from you.”

From you.

I don’t know why those two words hit differently, but they do.

They feel…intimate.

That feeling from before, the one that made my chest feel all weird…it’s back.

“You’re welcome.” I clear my throat, rubbing at the spot. “Have you always been such a workaholic?”

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