Page 12 of Crave Thy Neighbor

“Is that what we’re going to do? Play pretend?”

It would be the first time I’ve done that with a girl.

But something tells me she’s not one for games.

“I—”

Her phone buzzes against the counter, dragging us both away from the moment as she shoves her hand into her purse.

She looks at the screen and frowns.

“I’m sorry,” she says, not glancing up. “I have to take this.”

She grabs her purse and rushes through the bar toward the bathrooms.

If I hadn’t watched her face fall with worry, I’d have assumed this was a gimmick to get out of telling me her name.

Now I’m just concerned and hoping she’s okay.

“You scare her off already?” Donny asks.

I stare after her. “I hope not.”

Because I fully intend to continue the conversation when she returns.

She’s standing just inside the short hallway; I can see her from my vantage point.

Her eyes widen, then a bright smile transforms her face.

It’s different from the smiles she’s been giving me, and I find myself a little jealous of whoever is on the phone.

Which is ridiculous considering I still don’t know her name.

“Dude!” A heavy hand lands on my shoulder, and I pivot toward the familiar voice. “Sorry we’re late. We got a little…occupied.”

The proud smirk on my best friend’s face transforms into a twist of pain when his girlfriend smacks him in the stomach.

“Dean!” she hisses, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can you not?”

“I could, but what’s the fun in that?”

“Ignore him.” She rolls her eyes, pretending to be annoyed by him. “Hi, Nolan.”

“Hey, River.” I smile at her, loving how she can go from evil to sweet as pie at a moment’s notice. She keeps Dean on his toes, that’s for sure. “How’s shit?”

She laughs at my phrasing. “Shit’s fine. Just trying to keep this idiot in line.” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder toward Dean. “I don’t know how you’ve put up with him all these years.”

“Excuse me,” he says. “I’m charming as fuck.”

“Charming isnotthe word I’d use for you.”

I agree, and I can say that since I’ve known him since we met at the bus stop in kindergarten.

“This place is busy.” River hops onto the abandoned stool, glancing around the bar. “I’m not seeing Maya anywhere. I texted her to let her know we’re here.”

“She’s probably in the bathroom. That woman has the worst bladder ever.”

At the mention of the bathrooms, I glance toward the hallway.

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