Chance Encounters

by Jessica Prince

  “Son of a B-I-T-C-H,” Constance groused.

  I smiled and moved from the couch. “You get back to dinner and I’ll clean this mess up.”

  She headed for the kitchen while grumbling about needing hardwood floors as I laughed and went to grab a towel and clean up the spilled wine.

  Over the next few hours, Frank arrived home from work, we ate dinner, and I helped Constance get the boys ready for bed. Finally, the coast was clear for me to head home. Mom would either be passed out, hunting for a one-night stand, or too drunk to function.

  I left with a promise to Constance that I’d finally consider moving out and getting a place of my own. By the time I got home, I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall face first into my warm, cozy bed for a good night’s sleep.

  Maybe I should get my own place…

  Chapter 9

  Melany

  TODAY’S OUTFIT WAS a cream-colored pencil skirt that I paired with a silky red blouse and matching heels. The top clung to my breasts and had a loose boatneck collar with a little sash that tied into a bow on my right shoulder. At first I wasn’t sure about my choice of attire—the skirt and top hugged my body everywhere—but by the time I slid my feet into the ruby suede pumps, I had to admit I looked kind of pretty.

  I’d woken up earlier that morning with a renewed sense of hope and was scrolling through a website on my phone that showed apartment listings when I walked into the bodega for my morning coffee. And yes, I was quickly learning to multitask while wearing heels. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t so hard to walk in them after all.

  “Well, well, well. Look at you.”

  I glanced up from my phone to Stanley standing behind the counter and grinned. “Morning, Stanley.”

  “Morning to you, missy. Don’t you just take an old man’s breath away? You look beautiful, my dear.”

  I felt a blush begin to creep up my neck, but forced myself to maintain eye contact. It was still a work in progress, but I was determined not to shy away from praise any longer. “Thank you. Can I get the usual, please?”

  “Coming right up.” He pulled a paper coffee cup from the stack behind the counter and proceeded to make my coffee. I was reaching into my purse for my wallet as he finished up, prepared to pay, when a masculine voice spoke up.

  “I’ve got that.” A hand shot out from behind me and placed a few bills on the counter. “Coffee’s on me.”

  I chanced a peek over my shoulder to find an unknown, relatively handsome man grinning down at me. “Uh… thanks?”

  His grin morphed into a full-fledged smile. “You’re quite welcome. I’m Bryan.”

  I took his outstretched hand and gave it a tentative shake before reaching for my coffee cup. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, so I figured gripping the warm paper cup tightly in my fingers was as good an idea as any.

  “Melany. Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he continued to stare until the silence between us became uncomfortable. I shot a look at Stanley to see him smirking.

  “Um… well, thanks… again. For the coffee.” I lifted the cup in indication and took a step backward, preparing for my exit.

  “Hey, wait!” Bryan called, just as I pivoted and reached for the door handle. One second he was standing near the counter and the next he was a foot away. “Look,” he started, his demeanor suddenly shifting from outgoing to uncertain, “I know this probably seems a little forward, but… would you maybe like to have dinner with me?”

  My mouth dropped open as my eyes widened. “You mean… like a date?”

  He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, smiling a shy smile. “Yes, a date. That is, if you’re single. I probably should have asked about that beforehand, huh?” he said, chuckling.

  “I’m not,” I spat out. It wasn’t until his face fell a bit that I realized what I’d just said. “I mean I am! I’m not seeing anyone is what I meant to say. I am single.” God, kill me now. For the first time in recollection, a cute guy was asking me out, and two seconds in, I was already screwing it up.

  It was your typical face-palm moment. Fortunately, my weirdness didn’t seem to deter him, because his smile returned. “Great. Then how about we exchange numbers? I can call you to set something up.”

  “Oh… uh… yeah.” I fiddled with my purse in search of my phone, that familiar flush of embarrassment returning to my cheeks. “Sure.”

  I handed him my phone and turned my focus back to the sidewalk as he programmed his number in, unable to meet his eyes despite my effort. This was just too foreign of a situation for me.

  A second later, his phone started to ring. My own came into my line of vision, forcing me to look up at Bryan’s cheerful face. “I called myself from your phone. Now we have each other’s numbers.”

  I stuffed my cell back into my purse and answered, “A-all right.”

  Putting his hands back into his pockets, he took a step back, that grin still plastered on his face. “So, I’ll call you?” Worried I’d stumble over my words and look like an even bigger idiot, I chose to nod instead of speak. “Have a good day, Melany.”

  “Y-you too.” He turned on his heels and headed in the opposite direction, allowing me to finally take a full breath once he disappeared around the corner.

  Holy shit, someone asked me on a date.

  Holy shit! Someone just asked me on a date!

  I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more, skip along the sidewalk and swing around a light pole Gene Kelly style, or throw up. Seeing as I was in public, I couldn’t really do either of those things, so I retrieved my phone and shot off a quick text to the only person I knew would understand the magnitude of what just happened

  Me: OMG!!!!!!!!!! I was just asked out on a date!!!!!!!!!!

  As I waited for Chance to reply, I made my way toward the train station. The whole way, my feet felt like they were floating on air.

  Chance

  Melany: OMG!!!!!!!!!! I was just asked out on a date!!!!!!!!!

  The hand holding my toothbrush paused, suspended in the air as my mouth hung open. Clearly, reading my early morning texts while brushing my teeth was a bad idea, because I was currently standing in my towel, toothpaste foam dripping from my mouth onto the bathroom counter, while an unexpected—and totally unpleasant—swell of foreboding clogged my throat so badly I almost choked on it.

  He asked her out.

  That fucker had asked her out!

  And why did I suddenly feel sick at the idea? We were just friends; I was helping her out. For Christ’s sake, the sole purpose of this little ruse was getting that douchebag to notice her. So why did I hate the idea of him making a move?

  Dropping the toothbrush into the sink, I quickly rinsed and spit so I could give my full attention to my phone.

  Me: Logan asked you out?

  I needed to get my shit together. Melany wasn’t mine, and I told myself after what went down with Devon that I wasn’t going to put myself out there again for a woman hung up on another man. But reminding myself of that little fact didn’t make me feel any fucking better.

  Melany: Not Logan. Some guy at the bodega where I get my coffee in the mornings.

  Again, my body’s reaction was completely unexpected. My shoulders slumped and I sighed in relief. Sure, some asshole—probably completely unworthy of her—asked her out. At least it wasn’t Logan.

  With my phone still clutched in my hand, I typed out a quick response.

  Me: What did you say?

  Melany: I didn’t really say anything. I got all flustered and stopped making sense, but we exchanged numbers. I’ll probably ignore it and throw up if he ever calls.

  My laughter echoed off the tiles. Even when she was being ridiculous, she was still funny as hell.

  Me: Did you like the guy?

  Melany: He was cute.

  “Fuck,” I breathed at her response, dropping my hands to the cool marble countertop to support my weight. Something was becom
ing quite clear—almost disturbingly so. I was starting to really like Melany Fitzgerald.

  It wasn’t about looks. To me she was the whole package. She was beautiful, smart, funny. She was the first woman to make me laugh… really laugh in a long, long time. The more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to know her.

  But she wanted someone else.

  The realization hit me like a lead pipe to the gut. It was happening again. I was growing attached to a woman who had feelings for another man. Only this time it felt different.

  My phone pinged, pulling me from my reverie. I lifted it and began to read, my back straightening with each typed word.

  Melany: There weren’t any butterflies or fireworks or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. He was just some guy.

  That most definitely wasn’t a glowing recommendation. From her lukewarm response to my question, I began to realize that there was no way this guy was a potential threat. Then an idea began formulating in my head.

  Me: I think you should go.

  Now, I know what you’re thinking… why would I suggest she go on a date with another man when I’d had such a visceral negative reaction to her initial text.

  The answer was simple. She’d asked me to help her become more confident, and I was damn well determined to do it. Also, I’d make sure I was there the entire time in an attempt to control the situation. If I was keeping a diligent eye on the situation, then maybe, just maybe, I could sway the outcome in the direction that would benefit me.

  I was going to have to rethink my strategy when it came to that dickhead at her office, but this was a battle I felt I could win. And bonus: I was still upholding my promise to help her.

  Melany: Really??

  Me: Don’t worry, I’ll have your back. Trust me.

  Melany: *rolls eyes* That should be your new slogan.

  I let out a chuckle and dropped my phone so I could get back to my morning routine and get to work. But the whole time I was getting ready, I thought about Melany. As I finished tying my tie, I finally came to a conclusive decision… one I could live with. I was going to do whatever it took to win this time. My gut told me I was in for the fight of my life.

  No way in hell was I giving up.

  Chapter 10

  Melany

  MY HANDS SHOOK so badly I had to clench them into tight fists.

  This was a terrible idea. Maybe even the worst idea in the history of ideas. Or in the top five at the very least.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I whined, as Chance led me to the door of the restaurant.

  “Would you relax? It’s going to be fine.”

  I planted my heels and put pressure on his arm, forcing him to stop, and whisper-yelled, “Fine? How is this going to be fine? I’m going on my first real date, which at thirty-one is in itself the definition of pathetic, but to top that off, I’m going to have you spying from a few tables away!”

  Chance turned to face me and put his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, I told you I’d have your back, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t think you meant literally. I’m nervous enough as it is, meeting this guy, having you there is only going to make it that much worse!”

  He let out a harrumph and spun me back to the door, pushing it open as he spoke, “Pfft. That’s ridiculous. I’m only here to make sure the guy isn’t some pathetic dickhead or a closet serial killer in the making.”

  “Not helping,” I gritted.

  “Shh. Now it’s show time.” He gave me a small shove and moved away.

  The hostess looked up as I stumbled into her stand and gave me a bland, emotionless smile. “Hello. Can I help you?” For someone whose job was to greet people at the door, she certainly wasn’t giving me the warm fuzzies.

  “Uh… y-yes.” I cleared my throat and continued. “Um, yeah. I’m meeting someone? A date?” I hadn’t meant for that to come out as a question, and at her incredulous stare, I began to get flustered. “I mean, I am meeting someone for a date. Here. Right now. Seven o’clock sharp.” I laughed nervously and began wringing my fingers together.

  “Do you know the name of the party?” Hostess Lady asked in a skeptical, slightly offensive tone.

  “Bryan,” I stated. “Bryan…” Oh crap. I didn’t know his last name? How in the world had I agreed to a date with a guy whose last name I didn’t know? Suddenly, pictures of being chopped up and stuffed in a deep freezer in some guy’s basement popped into my head. Maybe Chance was onto something with the whole serial killer thing. I needed to get the hell out of there before something bad happened. I liked my skin exactly where it was. I didn’t want someone else wearing it like a suit!

  I was just about to turn and run when a voice called my name. “Melany?”

  Shit. It was Bryan Last-Name-Unknown. So much for a safe escape. I pasted on a tremulous smile and greeted, “Hi, Bryan.” Then, because I was quickly losing it, I turned to the bored hostess and stated, “This is the guy. Bryan.”

  “No, you don’t say,” she deadpanned.

  Bryan walked forward with a smile and leaned in to place a kiss on my cheek. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Yeah, you too.” How I managed to speak with the anxiety clawing at my throat was a miracle.

  “I already got our table right back here.” He took me by my elbow and began leading me toward our table behind the partition that separated the dining space from the entrance, and I gave one last quick glance at Chance as I walked away. He looked like he was trying his hardest not to laugh, and when my face wrinkled in a glare, he shot me a thumbs-up.

  Bryan’s voice pulled my attention away as we reached the table. “You look amazing.”

  My cheeks began to burn as I looked down at my outfit. The dress was shorter than I was normally comfortable with, but I liked how the stark white made my skin look a bit tanner. I paired the sleeveless dress with my red heels and a cute little red patent leather clutch Constance had given me a few years ago. It was the first time I’d had the opportunity to use it.

  “Th-thank you,” I replied. He pulled my chair out and I took a seat, scanning the restaurant. It was a nice place, small and quaint with a décor that kind of made it look like a Tuscan villa. Italian music played in the background, low enough for the patrons to converse, but loud enough to add to the comfortable ambiance.

  “So,” Bryan started, taking the seat across from me. “Have you ever been here before?”

  I finally took the time to take in my date. He looked… nice? I guess a politically correct term would be eclectic. I wasn’t particularly a fan of the khaki pants and blue blazer look, but who was I to judge? Until Chance, I didn’t really know the first thing about fashion. I thought the white button-down shirt with tiny navy-blue anchors all over it was a bit much, but I figured to each his own. His style kind of reminded me of Andy Bernard from The Office. I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he owned a pair of salmon-colored slacks.

  “No. I haven’t been here. I’m really glad you suggested it. I’m excited to try a new place.”

  He smiled brightly. It was cute in a boy-next-door sort of way. Not sexy and confident like Chance’s. And why in the hell was I suddenly comparing Bryan to Chance? I lowered my eyes and shook my head, trying to clear it of thoughts of Chance.

  When I looked back up, I saw that Hostess Lady was seating him at the table right behind Bryan. And she most certainly didn’t look uninterested as she gazed longingly into Chance’s eyes.

  He offered her a few whispered words I couldn’t hear, but whatever he said made her giggle and blush like a schoolgirl before she took back off to her podium. Chance’s head turned, catching me staring, and the jerk gave me a slick wink before picking up his menu and turning his attention to it.

  “Well, you’re going to love it,” Bryan said, pulling my focus back to my date. “They have the best baked salmon.”

  I managed to refrain from curling my top lip, but only just barely. I hated the stuff, honestly
. I was more of a give me red meat, or give me death kind of girl. At that thought, I picked up my menu and started perusing, trying my best to ignore the way Chance’s shoulders were suddenly shaking in silent laughter. He already knew of my utter dislike of anything fish related. As I scanned the options, my mouth began to water at the thought of Veal Parmesan.

  The waiter stopped at our table with a complimentary breadbasket and filled our empty water glasses. “Good evening. I’m Antonio and I’ll be your server. Are you ready to order or do you need a few moments?”

  I opened my mouth to request a few more minutes to decide, but Bryan cut me off. “We’ll have two of the baked salmon with asparagus and a bottle of Pinot Grigio.”

  I stared in wide-eyed disbelief as the waiter scribbled on his little notepad. Did he just order for me?

  “Uh…” I interrupted, drawing both their gazes to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I’m not really a fish and white wine kind of person.”

  The waiter kept his pen poised to correct the order, but Bryan spoke insistently. “Trust me, you’re going to love it. I promise. And you have to have white wine with fish.”

  “But I—”

  “That’ll be all, thanks,” he told Antonio with a wave of his hand, sending him on his way. Antonio scuttled away, taking my dreams of Veal Parm and a mojito with him.

  My eyes shot over Bryan’s shoulder. Chance was staring at me with the same bewilderment I was feeling at that very moment. Bryan clapped his hands, clearly pleased with himself as he stated, “Well then, now that that’s out of the way, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

  Was he serious? I heard the distinct sound of Chance choking from behind Bryan, but I was too annoyed to pay attention. “Well, I’m an Aquarius. I work at Archer & Weatherly Architecture and Design, and I don’t like seafood or white wine,” I replied flatly.