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I dangled my beer bottle over the bar top and glared at the soft shadow beneath it.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since my apartment last felt like home. Two weeks of getting jittery as soon as I stepped through the door, no matter how exhausted I was after work.

And I had no idea why.

I took a swig of my beer, set it down, braced my elbows on the bar, and hung my head.

Tripp’s scent washed over me before the stool scraping let me know he was taking a seat next to me.

“Are you following me, Slip?” I huffed.

“I could ask you the same, Asshole,” he replied. “I thought this was my spot.”

“Didn’t know we were calling dibs on bars.”

“I meant the stool. You normally sit on the other side.” There was a moment of silence, then, “You too?”

I blinked, my eyes following a series of divots in the copper bar top. “Me too, what?”

“Can’t rest at home,” he stated.

My head popped up and swiveled toward him. “What?”

His green eyes were trained on me. “I used to see you here maybe once a month, twice if you were with friends. Maybe you were here days I wasn’t. But…” He licked his lips. “Ever since that day with the moving truck on our route, I’ve felt like my place isn’t right anymore.”

“Maybe I just want to get out more,” I deadpanned.

He snorted. “I’d believe that if you were having fun. Sitting here like a sad sack doesn’t seem enjoyable though.”

“Fuck you, too,” I growled.

“Maybe that’s your problem,” he chuckled. “When was the last time you got laid?”

I turned back to my beer, grabbed it, and took another swig. “None of your business. How about you? When was the last time you knotted a pretty piece of ass?”

“I asked first.”

Two thunks caught my attention. I glanced up to see Tripp sliding a beer toward me.

“What’s this for?” I asked.

“Looked like you were getting low.”

I blinked. “Thank you,” I murmured.

“No prob,” he replied as he grabbed his beer and took a drink.

The clack of pool balls, clinking glasses, and raucous conversation surrounded us, but Tripp and I seemed to be in our own little bubble of misery.

“You thinking of moving?” I asked after several minutes.

He let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. And I don’t even know where I’d move to. I like my job and my route. My rent’s good, and my apartment’s decently close to work and the stores. There’s no reason to move, except it just doesn’t feel right.”

I nodded.

“Wanna trade for a few days?” he joked.

I snorted and let out what felt like the first real laugh in weeks. “And let you around my shit?”

“It’s not as if you don’t know where I work.”

“Oh yeah, there’s a plan: walk right into enemy territory and accuse you of stealing or fucking up my stuff.”

“You’re forgetting one big detail.”

“What’s that?”

“You’d only need to do that if I stole or fucked shit up.”

I flipped him off.

Tripp laughed. “I’m not opposed to bottoming if you’re that hard up.”

“Do you think about anything other than sex?”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You like it.”

I snorted. “What makes you say that?”

“You haven’t told me to fuck off yet.”

“Would you listen if I did?”

“It’s a public bar. Means I can sit here just the same as you.”

“So that’s a no.”

He laughed, then there was a pause as he took a drink. “You delivered to the house with the moving truck yet?”

“Which one?” I asked, even though I knew exactly which house he meant. “How many moving trucks do we see?”

He elbowed me. “Don’t be an ass.”

I sighed and turned to stare at the glasses lining the back of the bar. “No. I haven’t delivered there yet.”

“Me neither,” he replied. “But my boss has already told me to expect regular pickups there.”

I nodded. “Same. Something about a home business.”

“Yep.”

Another pause as we both took a moment to drink.

“Wanna play darts, or shoot pool, or something?” Tripp asked. “So we’re not both sitting here like sad sacks?”

I blew out a long breath, finished my beer, and stood. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“You sure?”

I nodded, purposefully avoiding looking at Tripp. “Yeah. See you out there tomorrow.”

“Um… ok.”

I paid my tab, then left the bar.

Part of me had wanted to spend more time with Tripp, which was confusing. And I didn’t have the desire to delve into that.