Page 83 of Love Thy Neighbor

He stares at me, and I can tell he wants to say something but thinks better of it.

“Besides,” I say, picking my book back up. “I don’t even have actual products ready. Just sketches.”

“I’ve seen your workspace. I know you have plenty of pieces in there.”

“I don’t have pieces inmultiple sizes,” I counter.

“Remember like a minute ago when I said I can tell when you’re lying?”Double dammit.“You think I haven’t seen you in there working on them? Haven’t noticed that you’ve been putting in extra hours at night?”

“You only notice because it takes away from sexy times with you.”

“Tell me about it.”

He huffs, but I know he’s teasing.

We spenda lotof time having sex. Not that I’m complaining, because it’s easily the best sex I’ve ever had, and I don’t think there’s any way it could ever get better.

“Hey, Care?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you look at me?”

I peek at him over my drawings.

“I won’t bug you about it again, but I think you should do it. You’re a talented designer. River wouldn’t ask you if she didn’t believe in your product.Ibelieve in your product, and you know I wouldn’t lie to you. I can’t.” He squeezes my foot, pulling his lips up on one side. “So maybe it’s time you start believing in yourself too.”

I can see in his eyes he’s not lying. Hedoesbelieve in me.

A glimmer of confidence sparks back to life within my chest.

I run my tongue over my lip and blow out a heavy breath. “I’ll think about it, okay? But if I say to let it go, you need to let it go. These are my issues to work out and it’s not your job to fix them. Got it?”

He smashes his lips together, looking like he wants to argue. Instead, he nods once. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

I return my attention to my sketchpad, and he resumes the foot rub.

I’m happy he believes in me, but that’s what best friends do. It’s the equivalent of your parent hanging your crappy finger painting on the fridge. It doesn’t carry the same weight.

“You hungry?” he asks a few minutes later.

“Not really. There’s ramen in the kitchen. Make some of that.”

“Excuse me,” he says, switching feet again. “I’m a sophisticated man. I’m not eatingramenfor dinner.”

“You’re the one who bought the ramen.”

“Yeah, for you.”

“I don’t even eat it!”

“Oh. Right. I guess that is mine, then.” He curls his lip in disgust. “I don’t want noodles. I want something else. A burger or something.”

I knew this was coming; I just didn’t think it’d happen two weeks into dating.

Cooper’s a social butterfly. I’m the exact opposite of that.

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