Page 31 of Love Thy Neighbor

I can’t say I blame her. The place is more packed than usual, and that’s saying something because the lounge/karaoke bar is a popular place to be on any given Friday night.

“It’s way too crowded in here. If I even try to go to the bathroom, I’m going to get lost.”

I reach down and grab her hand, linking our fingers together like I’ve done so many times over the years.

I don’t miss how different her hand feels in mine tonight. How her thumb moves back and forth over that meaty part between my thumb and forefinger.

Have her hands always been so small and soft?

“I’ve got you,” I tell her. “Just don’t let go.”

She nods, but the worry is still flashing in her eyes as I lead her through the sea of drunks and find our usual table at the back.

About a year and a half ago, my boss realized he could save a hell of a lot of money on rent and sent us all packing out of the office and into our houses. It didn’t take long before someone complained about feeling too lonely not being surrounded by co-workers all day. Thus, our Friday nights out.

We meet at least twice a month, usually every other Friday, have a few drinks, and shoot the shit. It’s our way of staying connected without having to smell each other’s farts all day long. Not everyone comes each time, but there are usually at least ten of us.

“Hey! Bennett made it!” Paul, another developer on my team, holds his beer in the air. “Good to see you, man.”

It’s the same thing he says every time I see him.

“Hey, man,” I say, shaking his hand with my free one. “How you been?”

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” His eyes drift to Caroline, then down to our joined hands. “But not as good as you apparently.” He leans into me. “About time, dude,” he says, loud enough for me but not Caroline to hear.

Paul’s been my closest friend since I started at the company. He’s a good guy and has been over to the apartment a few times, and he’s one of the few who’s met my best friend.

He’s been on my ass about the two of us from the moment he met her, always swearing something was going on that I wasn’t telling him about.

There wasn’t.

Thereisn’t.

“It’s not like that.” I laugh, pulling back and dropping Caroline’s hand like it’s on fire.

I motion for her to step into the fold. She takes a tentative step forward, the attention of the whole office all on her. “Guys—and Joan—for anyone who hasn’t met her yet, this is Caroline, my best friend.”

“Hey,” one says.

“Hello there,” from another.

“Damn.”

Someone even whistles. I think it’s Joan.

Several of them mutter things I can’t make out, which is probably for the best, but not a single person isn’t looking at her with piqued interest.

And I don’t like it one fucking bit.

My chest feels tight, like something I haven’t felt before, and I’m already regretting bringing her out.

“She’s off-limits.”

It comes out harsher than I intend, but the wide eyes and nods from my co-workers tell me my point has hit home.

“Uh, hi,” Caroline says softly, giving the group a wave.

I can feel the nerves radiating off of her, and I’m sure she’s dying to dart away.

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