Chapter 4
Frank wasn’t jealous. That would be ridiculous. He was just… aware.
It was a normal thing to notice when his neighbor—his hot blind neighbor—was standing outside their apartment building, smiling in that stupidly charming way at some blonde woman.
A woman who, for some reason, was touching Matt’s arm and laughing at something he said.
Frank told himself he wasn’t watching. And he sure as hell wasn’t bothered.
He was just standing near the corner, drinking his second coffee of the day, waiting for the universe to give him a good enough reason to stop staring and walk away.
It didn’t.
So instead, he lingered, because maybe he was curious.
Not jealous. Curious.
The woman—Karen, if Frank remembered right—leaned in slightly, saying something that made Matt chuckle, and Frank felt his grip tighten around the cup in his hand.
Not that he cared.
Matt could talk to whoever the hell he wanted.
Frank had zero reason to feel like someone had just poured cold water down his back.
Karen touched Matt’s arm again, fingers barely grazing his sleeve, and Frank scowled.
For no reason. Absolutely none. Because he wasn’t jealous. That would be stupid. He wasn’t even gay.
And yet, somehow, he found himself still standing there five minutes later, pretending he wasn’t watching, pretending he wasn’t irritated for absolutely no logical reason.
He should just go inside, drink his damn coffee and mind his own business.
Instead, he stood there like an idiot, watching Karen say something else, watching the way Matt smiled at her, watching the way she squeezed his arm like she had every damn right to do that.
Frank clenched his jaw, tearing his gaze away.
It didn’t matter.
It shouldn’t matter.
Matt wasn’t his.
Hell, Matt didn’t even know Frank had a thing for him.
(Not that Frank was admitting to that. Ever.)
So he forced himself to turn, stomp toward the building, and push past them without saying a word.
Not jealous.
Not jealous at all.