by K. A. Berg
Pulling my attention from his shirt, I focus on the instructions.
“You’ll have seven minutes with each person. The questions in the back of the booklet are great icebreakers, so don’t hesitate to try them out. When the bell sounds, that means it’s time to head to the next table. Follow the numbers in sequential order.”
Steven turns his attention back to me and smiles. “Have you done one of these before?”
I shake my head. “No, this is my first one. You?”
He nods. “I’ve done a few.”
There’s an awkward moment of silence, so I glance down at the page of questions and ask the first one my eyes settle on, “What do you like to do for fun?”
He smiles big as if this is his favorite question. “I love video games. I have my own YouTube channel where you can watch me play.”
Oh, dear God! I know video games and YouTube are popular right now, and everyone wants to grow up to be an influencer or strike it big, but that’s so not what I’d ever be looking for. “That’s nice.”
“It’s great. I’m lucky enough to be able to have turned my passion into a career.”
Say what now? “Career?”
“Yes,” he says excitedly. “My following is pretty decent, and I was able to quit my job as a bike messenger.”
What am I supposed to say to that? “Wow.”
“Uh-huh,” he continues. “It’s been amazing.”
Well, now, what the hell am I supposed to say? “I’m guessing from your shirt, you like cats?” I ask, going with the first thing that popped into my mind.
He looks down as if he forgot he had a cat on his shirt. “Oh, yeah. I guess. This is Misty, my cat. Well, she’s my mom’s cat, but she’s always working, so basically, Misty hangs with me.”
This just keeps getting better. “You live with your mom?”
He proudly nods. “Yeah, we’re really close. It’s been just the two of us since my dad left a while back. I don’t feel right, leaving her on her own.”
More like you don’t want to grow up and get a real job, so you can’t leave her.
“That’s so sweet of you.” I try to get the words out without choking on them.
Thankfully, the bell rings, and we have to switch tables.
“Nice meeting you, Steven.” The words contain way too much glee as he leaves the table.
Thank you, next. I order a drink just as the next man takes a seat. I have a feeling I’m going to need several of them before the night is done.
This guy seems okay. At least his clothing looks clean and pressed.
I listen as he speaks. His name is Josh. He’s originally from Indiana and moved to the city last year. Josh seems boring to be honest. Not that it matters to me. He could be the most interesting man in the world but he’s still not Ryan so it’s irrelevant.
The bell dings. Next!
Another guy. Another drink.
A new guy sits across from me. He’s attractive. He has green eyes and a nice smile as he greets me. “Hi, I’m Patrick.”
“Danielle,” I return his smile. “Nice to meet you.”
He takes a seat and leans his arms on the table. “Are you enjoying yourself tonight?”
I don’t know if I’d use the term “enjoying.” “This is my first time, so I’m trying to take it all in.”
He nods. “Mine too. I just got out of a relationship and thought maybe this would take my mind off Katie.”
Name dropping the ex in the first sixty seconds. Nice.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I get it. Break ups are hard.”
“So hard,” he says before launching into more information about Katie than I’d ever want to know.
I wonder how much trouble I’d get in for pulling the fire alarm. A server passes by and I signal for another drink as Patrick tells me more about his ex. Jeez . . . what’s next, her bra size and mother’s maiden name?
This is hell. I don’t know if I can last much longer. I’m ready to be anywhere but here.
Poor Patrick is still very much in love with his ex. I feel you, Patrick. I’d rather be home with Ryan than here too.
Seven minutes is up, and another round begins
This one—Matt—comes off quiet and shy. He hasn’t said anything about himself yet, just keeps asking new questions about me. “I’ve lived here for about five years,” I reply when he asks if I am from the city. “I grew up in the suburbs and moved here after college.”
“What about you?"
He looks down at his hands and fiddles with the napkin under his drink. “I live on the outskirts of the city. Been there a couple years. I work at an accounting firm downtown and moved here for the job.”
“That makes sense,” I tell him. For some reason, I use my classroom voice. This man looks entirely unsure of himself. I feel the sudden urge to comfort and encourage him.
The shrill ring cuts through the din of the room and Matt gives me a timid smile as he stands from this seat. “Nice meeting you Danielle.”
“You, too.”
The round ends and I glance down at my watch. Biggest waste of forty-five minutes ever.
“Jack,” the next man says, offering his hand as he sits.
I take it and introduce myself, “Danielle.”
He tells me he manages a construction company.
“That sounds fun,” I say. “It seems cool to build things or make something old like new again.”
“It’s not too bad. What do you do?”
“I’m a teacher.”
“Oh, yeah? What grade?”
I smile. “Kindergarten.”
His nose wrinkles like he just smelled something bad. “That sounds horrible. How do you do it?”
This is the first time I’ve been looked at distastefully regarding teaching kindergarten. “Do what?”
“Spend all day around little kids?”
I need another drink. Stat.
“You don’t like kids?” I ask even though the answer to my question is obvious.
Based on his reaction, you’d think I just asked whether or not he liked to slaughter newborn kittens.
He vehemently shakes his head. “No. They’re snotty, whiny little crotch monsters.”
“Wow, okay.” I glance down at my watch, wondering how on earth I’m going to continue to have a conversation with this man for three more minutes when we clearly do not have a thing in common.
“I’m guessing you want kids then.”
What a dick.
“And I’m guessing you don’t.”
“Vasectomy,” he says with pride. Like it’s a medal of honor or something. “No chance of me having any, so I guess this is a bust.”
“Guess so.”
Even if it wasn’t a deal-breaker, his attitude would be. He checks out of the uncomfortable exchange between us and starts perusing the room like he’s shopping for a mail-order bride.
Disgusting. I’d rather have cat-man who lives in his mother’s basement back than this guy.
When the bell rings, it’s music to my ears. Jack makes Scott look like Prince freaking Charming.
I don’t think I can make it through any more of these men. All I want to do is pull my phone from my bag and text Ryan that I’m one thousand percent sure I don’t want to be out in the dating world, not that I wasn’t before.
“You don’t look so happy,” a new man says, sitting across from me. His voice is soft, and he seems nice as he smiles at me.
I try to fake it. “I’m sorry. That guy just really rubbed me the wrong way. I’m Danielle. Nice to meet you.”
“Jesse.” He glances to the table next to us. “Want me to kick his ass?”
A laugh bubbles up, and I can’t hold it in. Jesse doesn’t look like he could take a fly, let alone the dick at the next table.
“There it is.” He winks. “I knew I could get you to smile. You really have a nice one, by the way.”
A blush heats my cheeks. Or maybe that’s the wine. I think I’m up to fi
ve glasses at this point.
Jesse and I chat for a few minutes, and so far, he seems like a nice guy. He works in the admissions department at one of the universities in the city—he wouldn’t tell me which one. He seems intelligent and respectful. If I actually planned on seeing any of these men again, Jesse might be the only one.
“We barely have a minute or two left,” he says. “You seem like a nice woman, Danielle. I’d like to get you into my rotation.”
“Rotation?”
“Yeah, I’m not really looking for anything serious. I prefer to have my usuals and go about my day. Bed buddies.”
My eyebrows feel like they’ve crawled up into my hairline with that. Color me surprised. “You come to these things for bed buddies?”
“Yes,” he says as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I don’t have time for anything more. Not interested in more either. Between work and classes for my PhD, there’s no room for the unnecessary hassle of a woman outside of the bedroom.”
The hassle of a woman? Fuck buddies? Rotation? All I’m picturing is a group of women who are basically sister wives in the bedroom, all to keep one dude happy. I guess they must be into it though, right? He’s upfront about it. Either way, it’s definitely not what I’m looking for. I’ve already had more STDs than I ever wanted this year. I’m good with not getting more. And Jesse seems like a walking petri dish.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
He clucks his tongue. “Too bad. You seemed like you could be fun. Picture it: you dressed as a naughty schoolgirl who likes to be fucked in the library. The thrill of having to be quiet so no one catches us.”
Jesse licks his lips as he stares at my tits—I’m sure envisioning whatever fantasy he’s playing in his head.
I’m only into the fantasy games with one man. I wouldn’t act out shit for someone like Jesse. There’s no fulfillment in that. Not for me. I need to be more than a hole to fill for that to happen.
“Man, could I make you come.”
That’s it. I’m done. There isn’t a moment’s hesitation before I stand from my chair and toss my wine directly into his face. “I doubt you could. I don’t even think you have a rotation. You’re full of shit. Your dick is probably the size of a breakfast sausage. I bet you have performance issues too. Don’t worry; I hear it only happens to assholes. Maybe, one day, you’ll overcome it.”
I don’t realize how loudly I was talking until a few women to the left of me start clapping. Jesse probably gave them the same offer.
Bending down, I snatch my small purse and head toward the front of the room. I will not sit here and let some man talk to me like that.
Funny. Ryan spoke to you about making you come the night you met him, and you didn’t get upset.
That was different. And proves my point that things with Ryan are what I want. It didn’t bother me because it was him. We had a connection before our conversation turned sexual. This guy was a pig. He reminds me of Scott.
“Ma’am . . .” One of the organizers tries to flag me down. “Miss . . . wait!”
Nope. Not a chance.
I need to get the hell out of here.
Right now.
I cannot believe I agreed to do this. If Ryan’s concerned about me seeing what other fish are in the sea, he doesn’t need to worry anymore. I just met enough of them to last me a year. I’m good. I don’t need any more.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ryan
Game one of the championship series is tonight, which is thankfully enough to keep my mind off Danielle. God, I miss the woman like crazy, and it’s only been a week. But this is why we need this. I know she doesn’t understand—hell, I don’t even fully understand it—but I do know it’s for the best. I need to get a handle on my feelings.
I’m all about taking chances in life. Hell, I do risky shit for fun all the time. But for some reason, my mind has me slowing my roll on this crazy train.
I don’t stop and think before I hop down that snowy mountain top or scale the rock wall. I know the risks and I can deal with them. A broken leg or broken arm will heal. Besides the chances of injury are slim when you know what you’re doing. I mean, yeah, I guess I could say that a broken heart will heal. But love is unpredictable. Especially when you’re flying blind with no experience. The rewards are high, but the fall out is painful, a lingering pain that can’t be fixed with medicine.
I told Danielle the truth. I see happiness with her in the future. Not just some hypothetical family and life, but a family and life with her.
There’s no way I can build that without a solid foundation.
And for us to have a solid foundation, I need to know I’m not a rebound.
The Dodgers in the championship and the search for a location for Cohen’s West are enough to keep my mind occupied and prevent me from going insane.
The Dodgers close the inning with a double play, and the bar cheers. All my regulars know of my love for this team, but even those in here for the first time know, considering Roxy decked the place out in Dodgers pennants.
Speak of the devil . . . Roxy heads toward me from the other end of the bar and hands me her phone.
“Did you see this?”
“See what?” I ask looking down then see a photo of Mercy and Danielle smiling. Speed dating: This should be interesting.
My jaw clenches tightly enough that it’s possible to crack a molar. Red darkens my vision. I want to murder someone. I need to chill.
You can’t get mad. You told her to go out and date.
I hand the phone back to Roxy. “I don’t check the social media and even if I did, why would I see that?”
“Are you really not checking up on her?” she asks incredulously.
I turn my back to her and wash some of the stuff piling up in the bar sink. “This isn’t high school, Roxy. Space means space. She’s free to do whatever she pleases. That’s actually the whole point of this.”
Roxy huffs as if I’m annoying her for not stalking Danielle’s social media. “Checking in on her posts isn’t not giving her space. It’s keeping tabs. How are you supposed to know what’s going on with each other? Are you texting? Talking on the phone?”
“No,” I sigh exasperated. “Space, Roxy. A break.”
She slides down the bar a few steps to a couple who needs new beers. She pops the tops and places them on the bar. She immediately redirects her attention back to me and our unwanted conversation. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
I shake my head. “Not a fucking clue.”
She places her hand on my arm. “This isn’t what I meant when I said you guys needed to be on the same page. I meant, more like talk about things and see where you guys stood, not break up with her.”
“I didn’t break up with her,” I tell her. “We’re just taking some time apart to make sure we know what we want.”
Roxy crosses her arms over her chest. “You know what you want, and she told you she wanted you.”
“If this break doesn’t change that, then we know for sure.”
“What is this? An episode of Friends?” she asks. “Breaks are stupid. Look at how that turned out for Ross and Rachel. Either you’re together or you’re not. Was this Evan’s stupid idea?”
“No. It was mine.”
“Well then, you’re dumb,” she tells me. “You’d better hope this doesn’t backfire on you.”
Thanks, Captain Obvious.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ryan
Two weeks later
“Your name on this line is all that’s needed, my friend.” Evan points to the line at the bottom of the page. “Then this place is yours!”
Pride and accomplishment stream through every vein in my body as I pick up the pen and scribble my name on the line sealing the deal on the space for Cohen’s West.
“This is so exciting.” Roxy bounces on her feet next to me with the same excitement as a child in line for a spin on the tilt-a-whirl. “I can see it. I
can see everything you talked about.”
Two weeks ago, Evan came storming into my apartment at like eight in the morning on a Saturday ranting and raving about this place that just came on the market for lease.
As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, he made it out to sound like there was a line of people waiting around the corner to see it. There wasn’t. But Evan knows his shit and it’d have been a dumb decision to ignore him. Especially if it had him barging to my place that early, demanding I get up because we needed to see this place ASAP. He claimed it was better than the first place he showed me over the summer, and it wasn’t going to last long.
He was a thousand percent right. I fell in love with the space the moment we stepped through the door.
It’s a renovated factory that overlooks the water. The views from the patio are killer, and it fits one of my visions perfectly. I like how Raul has his unique set-up with the music and dancing and always wanted to see if I could put my own spin on it. I can definitely try it here. The open ceiling and exposed metal pipes match the concept of Cohen’s. The place is already industrial-sheek.
My lips feel stretched to the max as I drop the pen. Spinning around, I take in my new bar.
Evan pulls a bottle of champagne from a bag he had behind the bar. “Can’t celebrate without popping the cork!”
“Ooh . . . wait,” Roxy stops Evan from handing me the bottle. “Let me get my phone out. This is great promo.”
“Damn, good bar manager.” I smile as she digs inside her bag for her phone.
She smirks. “Which is why you’re going to do a boomerang for Instagram, and you’re not going to complain. I’m a great bar manager and this is gold right here.”
Ugh! Roxy and her damn boomerangs. She made Aiden do one the other day. It took fifteen minutes. She made him shake drinks and pour them over and over until she deemed everything all good.