Page 124 of The Bridges I've Burned

“Okay, here’s a better one,” I challenged her, remembering something from a previous conversation. “You’ve mentioned bad dates. Tell me about the worst one you’ve ever been on.”

“Oh my God,” she drawled. “There are so many.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “When I broke up with Chad after several years?—”

“Several years?” I gulped. I didn’t think I’d dated someone longer than a month.

“Yeah.” She waved a dismissive hand.

Meanwhile, my brain was still stuck on the words—several years. Not just a couple of years, but several.

“It sounds like a big deal, but believe me, it wasn’t. I was busy. He was busy. I think we just enjoyed having someone on standby.” She blanched. “That makes me sound horrible, doesn’t it?”

“No, you’re just being honest.” I let out a breath of relief. “And if you want the truth, I’d rather have you confess to having a long-term fuck buddy who meant very little to you than some tragic romance you weren’t over.”

“Don’t worry.” She patted my hand. “I was over it long before we ended it.”

“Good. Now, tell me about that date.”

“God, okay. So, as I was saying, after Chad, I tried dating apps for the first time. I know a lot of people have claimed they met their soulmates or whatever this way, but I call bluff.”

I laughed.

“Either that or I’m doing it wrong because every guy I’ve ever met through a dating app has been a total dud.”

Five minutes and a story about the professor and a serious case of déjà vu, I was laughing into my napkin so I didn’t disturb the other tables around us.

“It’s not funny!” She feigned a slap on my shoulder. “I didn’t even tell you about the guy who asked me for Uber money.”

“It’s a little funny,” I argued. “But I’m glad those guys were assholes, Elena.”

“What? Why?”

“Because they all led you straight to me,” I told her. “And believe me, I will never forget a single night with you.”

She bit her bottom lip, and my whole body reacted.

“You have quite the way with words sometimes, Zander Green. Have you ever considered singing?”

“Only in the shower and for very pretty girls,” I lied, hating the fact that I couldn’t tell her.

I wasn’t just joining Manic as their lead guitarist; I was also providing backup vocals. It was the first time I’d ever get to use my voice professionally, and I was fucking thrilled.

And I couldn’t tell her.

“Tell me where you’ve been on tour,” she said as if she’d read my train of thought. “Is there anywhere that you just absolutely fell in love with?”

I thought about it as I took a sip of wine. I wasn’t usually a wine guy, but Elena had insisted I’d love it if she chose, and, damn, was she right.

“I’ve only done a few tours outside the US, and they weren’t until recently, when I’d made more of a name for myself. But I’ve been all over the US. When I first started, it was shitty bands with shitty venues and even shitter buses.”

She laughed.

“And the money was shit, too, if you were wondering. But eventually, I built up a decent reputation, and the stages got bigger. That’s when I really started to enjoy the traveling part of it—when I didn’t have to hole up in crap hotels and save every penny. But anywhere on the West Coast is nice. New England is great, too. I love anywhere with a beach.”

She scrunched her nose, and I chuckled. I knew exactly how Elena felt about beaches.

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