It’ll be my fault anyway. My conscience won’t allow me to just ignore this.” He glanced down, staring at our interlocked fingers as though they fascinated him.
“Where are you meeting her?”
“At the café near the gym.”
“Isn’t that a little close to home?”
He scratched his head. “I don’t know … Yes, probably. I panicked when I messaged her the location, okay? Anyway, it’s done now.” He paused, eyeing me desperately. “Will you come?”
“Come with you to meet Annabelle?”
He nodded. “You don’t need to actually sit at the table while I talk to her. You could sit somewhere close by. I just think I’ll feel more confident facing her if someone’s there in my corner.”
I’ll always be in your corner.
“Okay, sure, I’ll come. That café makes incredible waffles, and I’ve been fiending for more.”
Neil smiled, falling silent as he exhaled a heavy breath. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”
“And you’re a good person. You just made some unwise decisions and got yourself into a shitty situation. It happens. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“How do you know I’m beating myself up?” he asked, curious.
I reached up with the hand that wasn’t currently holding his and stroked a finger over the fine line between his eyebrows. “When you’re stressed, this line deepens.”
Neil’s expression turned thoughtful. “I’ve never noticed that.”
“That’s because you don’t look at your face as often as I do. I’ve been staring at it through a screen for weeks, and I can always tell when you’ve had a stressful day at work, depending on how deep this line is.”
“Makes sense,” he murmured, eyes following the movement of my hand as I lowered it. Several moments of quiet passed before he spoke. “Michaela was pleased to inform me that you told her about our friendship.” He raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Was I supposed to keep it a secret?” My tone was teasing as I tugged on his hand. “Are you ashamed of me, Neil?”
He tugged back, effectively plastering my chest to his front, and a soft, surprised gasp escaped me. An unexpected wave of arousal shot through me at the contact. “Never. Don’t ever think that.” His eyes flickered back and forth between mine, and my breathing stuttered.
“Okay,” I said, my voice uncharacteristically breathy now.
For the second time in however many minutes, we were locked in a stare-down. I yearned to know what he was thinking. There were secrets in his eyes that called to me. And I hadn’t been lying earlier; he really did smell good. It wasn’t just his fabric softener, either. Everyone had their own unique scent. It was hard to pick out the notes and determine what exactly Neil’s was made up of, but it was now ingrained in my memory. It caused a visceral reaction in me.
Footsteps sounded down the hallway, and Neil let go of my hand. He turned around swiftly and picked up his clipboard and pen. The door opened, and Michaela poked her head in. Her attention went from me to Neil, and it looked like she was attempting to suppress a grin.
“There you two are. Afric, I need your help out front.”
I cast Neil one last glance, my insides still all aflutter after the forceful way he’d tugged me close to him. He looked at me briefly, a certain brooding intensity about him that I hadn’t seen before. Then he returned his attention to his clipboard, and I followed Michaela out.
Two hours later, the bar was decorated, and everything was ready for the party. As people started to arrive, Neil appeared in front of me.
“The place looks amazing,” I exclaimed. “You and Michaela really pulled it off, especially given how little time you had to prepare.”
“Don’t forget you and your friends helped, too. But thanks. I love party planning. It can be stressful at times, but it’s also one of my favourite parts of the job.”
“You planned the screening in Notting Hill, too, didn’t you?”
“With Michaela’s help, yes,” he replied.
“Well, you certainly have a knack for planning events. If I ever decide to throw myself a big, splashy birthday party, I’ll know who to come to.”
Neil smiled. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Sure. What would you recommend?”
“Well, there’s beer, prosecco, or wine. There are also some cans of premixed cocktails that may or may not be disgusting. The jury’s still out.”
“You haven’t tasted any of them yet?”
He shook his head. “Not sure I’m brave enough.”
“Why don’t we both try them together then?”
A grin tugged at his lips. “Fine, but if they’re horrible, I’m