She smirks. “If you told him to fuck off there is no way you would be so frigging happy.”
I smile. “I don’t know. I feel okay. I think I just needed some acknowledgement from him that he regretted being a dick.”
She shakes her head. “He was more than a dick.”
“I know.” I smile sadly. “I would have loved to go out to dinner with him to hear what he had to say, though.”
Her eyes hold mine as she thinks.
“But I’m not,” I add.
“Good.” She shovels more food. “Don’t go there. If he breaks you once then that’s his fault. If he breaks you twice then it’s on you.”
I nod as I think. “I wish things were different I know we could have been really good together.”
“Yeah, well… He’s a fucktard. Stay the hell away from him.”
* * *
Two hours later, we are in shopping hell. “So, what is the look you are going for?” I ask Brielle.
“Hmm.” She narrows her eyes in thought. “This woman is not my nanny and is so hot that I need to have passionate sex with her all night.”
I look at her flatly. “Honestly?”
She shakes her head is disgust. “I should never have watched him do that in his bathroom. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s obscene the thoughts I am having around the dinner table when the kids are there.”
“Maybe you should just shag Thomas? It would put a few of your fires out, so to speak?”
“Hmm.”
“Then you could stop imagining being on your knees and giving your boss head under the dinner table.”
She smiles broadly. “How do you know that’s what I’m thinking?”
I raise my eyebrows, I’ve got her. I know how that dirty mind of hers works.
She shakes her head as she flicks through the racks of clothes. “Who am I kidding, that’s totally what I’m thinking about,” she sighs.
* * *
I stand and look at myself in the bathroom mirror at the club. I have made an extra effort into how I look tonight, and I feel excited and fresh in my new threads. I am wearing a tight, strapless, magenta dress with strappy gold heels to compliment the look. I’m going for sexy and, hopefully, fun. I’m feeling more myself at Club Alto with my two roommates. Brielle curled my hair with hot rollers this afternoon and I have smoky eyes while my lips are glossed to the maximum. We even went all out and bought new sexy lace underwear to match our dresses. Brielle ended up buying a strapless black number, and I told her that if Mr. Masters can resist her in that, he’s definitely batting for the other team.
Me, however… I have a different mission. I’m going to have fun. Alastar has been on my mind but I am keeping my thoughts as far away from him as possible. He has rung me three times today and, although I haven’t answered his calls, I have been excited each time to see his name light up my screen.
If only things were different.
I truly wish they were.
I can feel myself caving by the hour. I want to hear what he has to say. Why did he lie?
I make my way out to my two friends who are standing with two men. I smile. One of the men asked me out when we were here last weekend. He’s tall, blonde and nice looking. His name is Ethan. He’s easy to talk to and uncomplicated, unlike Alastar. I know I can’t fall in love with him, though. He’s a safe option. I may have declined his offer last week, but if he asks me to dance tonight I might take him up on it. Why not?
He smiles broadly when he sees me.
“Hello.” He smiles as he kisses me on the cheek.
“Hello.” I smile back as I take my drink from Hank and sip it.
His friend Matt has brown, curly, long hair and is seemingly interested in Vanessa. We were here with them last week and were all instructing Hank on his pick up moves. We had a fun night and ended up having Pizza at 3am.
“How has your week been?” he asks.
“Good.” I nod. “Busy. And you?”
“Same.” He smiles. Hank watches a girl walk past. “You should go talk to her,” Ethan instructs him.
Hank screws up his face. “She’s not really my type.”
“What’s your type?” I ask.
“I don’t know really,” he mutters dryly. “But not her.”
Two hours and fifty not-my-type girls later, I am on the dance floor with Ethan. Hank is dancing with a girl next to me and Vanessa is full on making out with Matt up against a wall. We have been drinking cocktails and acting like fifteen year olds. I am beyond tipsy and trying to stop myself laughing at Hank’s daggy dancing. It’s hot on the dance floor and I need some fresh air.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” I signal.
Ethan and Hank smile, waving me off as I go to the bathroom and head back to our bench table. I sit for about five minutes before a waiter walks over with a tray and puts a tequila down in front of me. “A gift from the man at the bar.”
My heart skips a beat.