Page 26 of Hiding from Hope

“No worries,” he says, but we both hang onto the line, or at least I do. By the sounds of it, he has me on speaker in the background and has probably forgotten about me.

“Thanks for Monday, for coming out with us,” I say, because I have no idea how else to bring it up. If he remembers how he got home or what was said. Whether he notices a missing manuscript. I instinctively use my pointer finger to twist the ring on my thumb, feeling it burn through all my betrayals.

Just as I feel like I’m about to come clean, Jessie speaks. “I’m sorry, Case.”

“What for?” I whisper, because my voice won’t work.

“For what I said about Jenny.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. You love her, it’s total—”

“I don’t, it’s not… she’s engaged. I found out that night, so it just…” My heart shatters and I blink back the tears. Stupid empathy tears because the love of his life is marrying someone else, and I forced him to come and be social. I’m an idiot.

“Oh, Jessie, I’m so sorry. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have forced you to come out. I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t be sorry. It’s fine, really. She doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. It was just a shock.” He has always been good at lying to himself.

I say nothing, and neither does he. Just a few seconds of tense silence.

“Okay, Jay.” He releases a breath on the other line.

“Okay,” he says back.

What else is there to say? In this moment, though, I know I’m not going to let him hide again. Maybe we’ll both find our one true love and find a friendship, as well.

“Well, I better get back to the girls,” I say, awkwardly.

“Oh, of course… I’ll see you…” He ends the same way as last time and hangs up before I can say goodbye.

“You look incredible.” Ian leans closer to me at the bar of Bozzelli’s as we wait for our drinks. His hand rests respectfully on my hip as we stand toe to toe. He is, as Rosie had described, a ‘short king’. Even in my semi-heel, I am at least four inches taller. He is pretty though, like textbook pretty, I’m sure he could model for Calvin Klein, you can’t see height in photos.

“Thank you. You clean up well yourself.” I bite my lip and try my best to flirt, but at this point, it’s forced. Despite the way he appraises me, I still feel no attraction to Ian. I don’t feel the butterflies, I feel no desire to get naked. I do have a desire to experience sex ASAP, though. I need to get other images out of my head, so I’m betting on a drunk buzz to give me the desire to go home with Ian and hopefully find a release.

“So, you’re a yoga instructor?” he questions and leans closer, his hand roaming gently on my lower back. I wore a tiny dress that I wouldn’t normally wear, but I explained to Rosie it was a dire situation and she said this would be the one to end the spell, so here we are. “I am. My sister and I own a studio.” Creepy bartender guy from Noah’s party puts our drinks in front of us. He raises an eyebrow at my date and pointedly looks around, as though he is waiting for some tall lumberjack to come and chastise this guy, too. Honestly, he would if he saw. And I know it, too. Jessie might not be interested in me, but I know he still wouldn’t think much of Ian here.

“That mean you’re flexible?” And suddenly his touch on my skin feels like an acid burn.

I pull my lips into a tight smile and swallow the retort while nodding.

“Mhmm.”

“That’s hot.” Ugh. Men. “Feel like dancing?” he asks, while trailing his eyes down my body. I slam my drink on the bar, because I can’t seem to calm the frustration that builds inside me. “Sure.” I turn and pull his hand toward the dance floor and scan the area. I’m determined to get laid. If it isn’t with this man-child, it will be with someone else.

I pull my stupid date onto the stupid dance floor and let him crowd behind me. I let him put his hands on my hips as I tune out to the music around me. I close my eyes and will the ball of frustration out of my body through dance. I feel the movement and let the music wash over me. I pretend it’s just me here, enjoying the music and letting my body move as though it is an instinct–as though there isn’t a douche feeling me up right now. I open my eyes and the dance floor is packed. There are people everywhere. Rosie and her date are in here somewhere, because I refused to date without some kind of backup. As I scan the darkened dance floor, my eyes stop on a man to my left. Tall–or taller than me–brown hair neatly combed and styled. He is wearing a shirt that gives away his muscular build, has a jawline that could cut glass, and a strong nose. Yum. There are those tummy flips I’ve been waiting for.

I hold his gaze, forcing my eyes to a half-mast, and decide to tease him with my current date. He hovers, a small smile pulling at his face as he narrows his eyes and sips from his glass of what looks like whiskey. His eyes tell me he knows the game I’m playing; his body language tells me he enjoys it.

I take a dip and grind my way down Ian, pushing my ass out as I come back up and sexy-tall guy smiles wider and winks. That’s my cue. I turn to Ian. “Going to the bathroom, be right back.” He looks a little disappointed, but shrugs and keeps dancing.

I look back to my left, and sexy-guy is nowhere to be seen. I head for the direction of the bathroom, anyway. If it was a missed opportunity, at least I can take a few breaths then bail.

As I head toward the bathroom, a hand wraps itself around my elbow and drags me into a dark corner. I yelp until the hand spins me into a hard body, and I meet the face of sexy-guy up close and personal. “Oh.” I breathe and bite my bottom lip. “I thought you bailed.”

“Not at all, just wanted to get you somewhere quieter.” He pulls me against his body and wraps his arms around me. My body is enjoying it, but something in my head is giving me red flags. I ignore the bells and whistles because that is why I have gone this long without sex. I can ignore red flags if it means good sex, right?

“Is that so?” I taunt him and lean in for a kiss as he reaches down and palms both ass cheeks. He leans down and takes my mouth in his. The kiss is both searing and dangerous. The kind of kiss that they write about in dirty romance novels, and it causes the red flags to turn to green as I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he growls into my lips, and I claim him again, urgently, and his hands frantically search my back. One hand breaks away and comes to my front. “Can I touch you?” he whispers, and my heart starts rapidly beating out of my chest. I look to him and search his eyes. I imagine Rosie hearing this request and slapping me for pausing. Unable to verbally agree, because I’m worried I’ll chicken out, I nod, and he takes me in another kiss. His hand makes its way under the front of my dress and rubs gently at my center, over the top of my panties, eliciting a dirty moan I had no idea I was capable of releasing. The foreign noise snaps me from my daze and I push gently at his chest, “Wait. I—”

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