“It’s okay. It’s fine. No big deal. You like him. He likes you. It’s totally normal to send him photos of yourself,” Mel assures.
“But that’s the thing! I don’t know anything that’s going on in his head,” I shriek. After all, what if Crystal has a point? Is everything he said to me on Friday at odds with his behavior since he’s been gone? Actions do speak louder than words.
“Wait!” Mel rockets up to a kneeling position, her eyes glinting. “Tell him you meant to send it to me or Crystal.”
As per Mel’s sage advice, I craft a new text, which reads, Sorry, I meant to send that to someone else.
My stomach dips, roller-coaster style, when the little ellipses appear in our text screen. Just knowing he’s seen the photos makes my body react in a way it shouldn’t. The dots are there for a solid minute at least. I know because I’ve gone ghostly pale from holding my breath. As soon as the dots appear, they disappear.
By the time Crystal drops me off at my empty apartment, Trevor still hasn’t responded to my THREE selfies.
This can’t be a good sign.
? chapter thirty
ADULT DANIEL ROCKING a bow tie is a level of devastatingly adorable my body was not ready for.
Despite the fitted navy suit that covers his long limbs, I still can’t help but picture Daniel as that nerdy, unsociable kid with cowlicked hair and no fewer than two noticeable stains on his clothes.
I finally messaged him back this morning after his fifth message asking for forgiveness for standing me up. He was super apologetic and asked to call me while I was at work.
Inviting Daniel to the gala wasn’t my intention, but it seemed like the natural thing to do when he wished me a happy Valentine’s Day, recalling how it was my favorite holiday. And I’d be lying if I said Seth smugly inquiring only moments beforehand about whether I’d successfully scared off all my exes wasn’t a secondary factor.
I made it clear to Daniel that I was inviting him as a friend, explaining I was seeing someone who was out of town. He seemed perfectly fine with that, reassuring me he wasn’t expecting anything other than platonic friendship.
When we met in the lobby of the trendy boutique hotel hosting the gala, he goofily pretended to run toward me, nearly tripping over the loose laces of his dress shoes in the process.
“This reminds me of hiding behind the bleachers during dodgeball,” Daniel says, peering around the drywall pillar for signs of human life. We’ve spent the better part of the cocktail hour in a darkened corner, hiding from my nosy, overtly curious coworkers, nibbling on fancy appetizers. It’s just like middle school, when we’d both fake sick at the same time to get out of gym class.
I scrunch my nose, straining over his shoulder for a glimpse into the ballroom. From what I can see, there are red balloons everywhere (very on theme), ornate red charger plates, pink silk napkins. “Remember when Jason Yardley hit me in the face with the ball?”
He winces at the memory. “Oh God. The blood. I almost passed out. I remember your grandma Flo came to pick you up because your parents were working. How is she doing?”
“Grandma Flo is great, actually. She got remarried last summer to her childhood sweetheart. She’s still super involved in the church and stuff. She has a more active social life than I do.”
We’ve managed to catch up on the past two decades of our lives. Just like it used to be, Daniel asks a lot of questions and I respond with long-winded answers, all while managing to extract some key pieces of information.
Daniel is working as a software developer for Flopify. He’s loving it, although he readily admits his job is practically his life. In fact, it doesn’t seem like he does much else, aside from work and video games. Being a person without other hobbies aside from reading, I can relate. The most exciting development in his life as of late is his newly adopted cat, Grandma Whiskers.
“She’s an orange tabby,” he explains, showing me a photo of her lounging in a playboy pose, soaking up the sun in front of a window. “She’s been a little cranky lately because she’s on a diet. My vet said I had to cut her food intake because she was becoming obese, though I disagree. I mean, after being in the shelter for months, I think the poor girl deserved some extra food,” he justifies with an adorable smile that reminds me so much of him as a kid.
He tells me how he’s considering purchasing a cat stroller because Grandma Whiskers refuses to walk outdoors, and I nearly die laughing. My amusement makes him smile, and it reminds me of all the days after school when he’d come over and play house with me in Crystal’s and my playhouse. We always pretended to be a married couple, mimicking our parents, pretending to scold our doll children. As a dutiful husband, he’d offer to make me fake coffee, which was usually paired with a bundle of dandelions freshly pulled from the lawn.
The memory reminds me of the bouquet of a dozen red roses that arrived at my door as I was on my way to the gala. I assumed they were apology flowers for missing our date on Friday. In my rush to catch my Uber, I barely had time to even look at them, let alone thank him.
“Hey, I meant to thank you for the flowers. You really didn’t have to send—” I’m mid-sentence when Seth not so casually saunters by in a velvet maroon suit, champagne in hand.
He appraises Daniel, giving me a conspiratorial brow raise before extending a hand to him. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dr. Reinhart.”
Before shaking his hand, Daniel glances at me as if to say, Who the hell is this d-bag, and why is he talking to me?
I clear my throat. “Seth, this is my ex, Daniel. Daniel, this is my other . . . um, ex, Seth.”
Seth smiles, displaying all his tiny teeth. Now that Trevor has pointed it out, it can’t be unseen. He gives Daniel a condescending pat on the shoulder. “If you need any advice on this one, I’m here for you, man.”
My hand stiffens around my vodka cran. If I grip it any tighter, I’ll surely crack the glass.
Daniel rights his posture, his expression deliciously frosty. “And what kind of advice would that be?”
Seth’s patchy brows nearly reach his prematurely receding hairline. “I’m just messing with you.” He turns to me. “You good? You look a little tense.”
“I’m good,” I say, loosening my grip around my glass.
Luckily, Seth is easy distracted by shiny things. In this case, the shiny object is Dr. Patel, one of the most senior NICU doctors, who’s just walked by. When Seth darts after him to suck up, Daniel leans in.
“Was he one of the exes on your list too?” Daniel asks. Earlier in the evening, I spilled the tea about my ex-boyfriend endeavors, and he admitted he already knew from watching my stories after I reached out on LinkedIn.
I chortle at the mere thought. “No. I never considered Seth. Only the good ones, like you.”
Daniel’s cheeks turn pink, tickled by this. “True. I was your followers’ favorite. Only second to your roommate. The one you’re seeing, right?” he asks.
“Yeah. Trevor.” I lean against the wall, frowning at the mere mention of Trevor. He still hasn’t responded to the selfies I sent him, which only confirms Crystal’s doubt.
“You must really like him,” he says, his mouth curving into a small smile. After this long, Daniel can still read me like a book.
“How’d you know?” I whisper.
“I remember all the boys you used to crush on in school. You’d always try to pretend like you didn’t like them around me, but I could always tell,” he says with a casual shrug as he sips his drink.
“Really? How?”
He studies me for a beat. “You’d do that thing where you talk a mile a minute, twirling the ends of your hair. You get a little flustered. And you get that glassy, starry-eyed look,” he tells me, his eyes glinting with certainty like he’s solved a riddle.
“You say that like you know exactly what I’m talking about,” I venture.
He blushes. “Yeah. I’ve been battling a pathetic crush on my coworker Yua for years.”
“Years? Tell me about her.”
“She’s another developer.”
I bounce my brows suggestively. “Ohh, an office romance?”
He makes a pained expression and stares at his boots. “Not quite. We went on one date and she kind of freaked out. She’s scared to ruin our friendship, especially since we’d be stuck working together. I completely get it, but it sucks.”
“I’m sorry, Danny. Have you tried grand gesturing her?”
“Like declaring my love for her? Publicly?” he asks, aghast at the suggestion.
“Oh yeah. In front of tons of people, obviously,” I tease.
“No, no, no. I wanted to respect her wishes too. It didn’t feel right to push it. What about Trevor? Tell me about him.”