Page 1 of Loathe Thy Neighbor

1

River

“I am a fucking hero.”

I sit back with a satisfied grin, admiring my accomplishments.

Green M&M’S are superior, and that’s why I’ve spent the last five minutes separating all of them from the rest.

My high lasts all of two seconds before I realize I’m out of things to do as I wait for my best friend, who is late for our Sunday morning coffee date again.

Blowing out an annoyed huff, I glance at the clock on the wall of the neighborhood’s favorite diner. It only serves breakfast food and pie, which it’s famous for.

This is my favorite place in the whole city.

The Gravy Train, an old train depot turned diner tucked in the middle of Harristown, Colorado. It’s a small place, nothing fancy or extravagant inside, and it’s home to not only the best breakfast around, but also the best pie. And Ilovepie.

They offer a few flavors a day, and my favorite—cherry—is available three times a week.

Sundays are cherry pie days.

A shuffle comes from the other end of the long stretch of booth that takes up a sizeable amount of the back of the restaurant.

Lucy, a fellow regular here who also happens to be my apartment building manager, is up against the wall at the other end of the long community table where I like to sit. She’s wearing a funky patterned poncho—a signature look for her—and her nose is stuck inside her crossword puzzle book. I’ve known her long enough to know that whenever her book is out, she’s not coming up for air anytime soon.

“Seriously, River? Again?” Maya West, my best friend, stares down at me from the end of the table with a disappointed frown she’s perfected over the years.

What did she expect me to do with my time? Sit here and twiddle my thumbs? I had to keep occupied somehow. She should know me better. I’m not the type to do something like pick up a newspaper or book for entertainment. Keeping my hands busy keeps my mind sane.

“What?” I pop a green candy into my mouth as she takes a seat. I wash it down with a big gulp of my now cooled coffee, which is loaded with enough sugar to put me in a coma. My pseudo-nephew, Sam, slides into the chair next to her. I stick my tongue out at my favorite little rascal, and he returns the gesture. I turn my attention back to Maya. “These precious babies don’t belong with that”—I snarl my lip at the offending colors—“trash.”

“They all taste the same,” Maya argues, like she always does.

“Lies!” A few patrons inside scowl at my loud antics, but Sam laughs, which is what I’m truly aiming for. Now that he’s twelve going on twenty, it’s becoming harder to make him laugh as he transitions into his grumpy teenage years. I miss when all I had to do was cross my eyes at him and he’d giggle for five minutes straight.

“You’re so strange.” She scoots her chair closer to the table, tossing her long, chocolate hair behind her shoulder. “It’s no wonder you can’t find someone to date you.”

Maya doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, so her words aren’t intended to sting, but they do.

Especially after yetanotherfailed date last night.

My singlehood has been a bit of a daunting subject between us ever since I officially ended things with my ex.

We’d been together off and on for three years. Our relationship wasn’t super serious and things had been stalling out for some time, and one day, I realized I was ready for more, something steady—and my ex wasn’t. He was constantly flopping between jobs…and other people’s couches, and I’m past that stage in my life. I knew I needed to cut my losses and move on.

I jumped back into the dating scene hard at first, going on a date a week at least. It didn’t take long for me to realize what I was wanting—stability.

I’m not saying I’m ready for a trip down the aisle, but finding something…someone…that promises a future eventually would be nice.

Aftera lotof failed dates, I slowed it down. I’ve only been out with a handful of guys over the past year, all of them duds.

Maya thinks I’m being too picky, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with knowing what you are (and aren’t) willing to compromise on. Is it too much to ask that I find a guy who is funny, kind, has a steady job,andis hot?

It’s not like I need to findThe One, but consistent orgasms that don’t come from my vibrator and someone to snuggle other than my cat Morris does sound nice, not to mention doing something other than working and hanging out with Maya and Sam—though I do love them dearly.

“I’m not strange,” I tell her. “I’m…particular.”

“You can say that again.” She raises a brow, darting her eyes toward the pile of green M&M’S in front of me. “Speaking of dating, how’d last night go?”

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