Page 58 of Love Thy Neighbor

Like dating apps. Going out to a bar.

Kissing Cooper.

Maybe I’m finally ready to put my fears aside and try this too.

* * *

“You’re home early.”

Cooper sets the coffee pot back under the basket and rests his back against the counter, bringing the mug to his lips. I don’t know how he can drink coffee all day long like that and still sleep a full eight hours. He must be some sort of magician. It’s the only explanation I have.

I pull my crossbody purse off and hang it on the hooks we have near the door. “Yeah, River was dead set on getting out on time tonight. She was scared Dean would barge into the store and make a scene.”

I took the long way, needing to think, and I still walked in the door earlier than I usually do.

“Like that’s a real threat. She loves it when he does that.”

I laugh. “That’s what I said.”

“Man, those two are ridiculous. I really didn’t think they’d ever get their shit together.”

“Still can’t believe I lost fifty bucks in the building bet.”

“I can. I told you they were fucking.”

“Don’t say it like that—so crassly.”

“People fuck, Caroline. Well, except for you.” I flip him off, and he laughs. “Speaking of, guess that gives you more time to prep for your date now that you’re home early.” He lifts the cup to his mouth and takes a sip, not bothering to blow on the hot liquid like the psychopath he is. “You nervous?”

I shake my head, slipping my jacket off my shoulders and putting it over my purse. “No.”

“Really? Not even a little bit? It’s been a while since you’ve been on a date.”

“I’m not going.”

I’m not?

I pause for a brief second, surprised by my own words.

I’m not going. I’m canceling.

Somewhere between the store and home, I decided going out with Jason isn’t a smart idea. What if things are awful and it ruins my favorite bookstore? Can’t go risking my book obsession.

Right. Just keep telling yourself that’s the reason you’re not going.

“You’re not?” He pushes off the counter to his full height, going into protective mode. “What happened?”

I shrug, toeing off my flats. “Nothing happened.”

“Care…” he starts, tilting his head, his brow going up in thatDon’t bullshit meway of his.

I cross the apartment to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a can of flavored water. I pop the top and take a long drink before wiping the back of my hand across my mouth.

“Really, Coop.” I shrug, pushing myself up onto the counter, my favorite spot to sit. “Nothing happened.”

“Then why aren’t you going?” he asks, turning around to face me.

He takes another drink from his coffee, the muscles in his arms that are threatening to pop out of his plain gray t-shirt flexing with the movement.

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