Page 27 of Endless Obsession

And now, I’m starting to think that I want to keep pushing myself. Beginning with this strange lunch date.

“You look like you’re a million miles away,” Ivan comments, and my attention snaps back to him as I feel myself flush.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly. “My life is in a bit of upheaval right now. I’m not as together as I usually am.”

He chuckles. “You seem very together to me.”

“It’s a facade,” I promise him. “One I’m very good at.”

There. A moment of vulnerability. His face softens, and his gaze sweeps over my face, taking me in.

“I’d like to see what’s under the mask, then.”

A chill sweeps down my spine, and I feel myself go still. I look at him carefully, trying to determine if I was wrong earlier. If he could be the same man I met this weekend at Masquerade.

There’s something about him—but no. Not enough. It can’t be the same man. And anyway, the rules and protocol at Masquerade are all designed to avoid exactly that outcome—that anyone who plays there might find each other in reality.

It’s just a coincidence. Or maybe I just attract men like that now. Cocky men with a mysterious edge to them. Maybe that’s my type, outside of my comfort zone.

There’s only one way to find out.

“I’d also like to take you out on a real date,” he continues, as if he heard my thoughts. Something jolts in my chest, a feeling of fear—but also anticipation.

I’m afraid of what it would be like to go out on a date with him, of what that would mean. What happened at Masquerade had a tinge of unreality about it, something locked behind closed doors. But going out on a date means accepting that my relationship with Nate—five years of my life—is over. That what he did is unforgivable. That I’m finished with everything we had, because of what he did.

He tried to call me over the weekend. Then he texted me. He apologized. He said it was all a mistake. I ignored the texts, and by Sunday night, they got colder. He said I wasn’t even trying. That I’m throwing away five whole years over something that can be fixed.

In the solitude of my apartment, I almost believed him. Over brunch on Sunday, Jaz and Zoe and Sarah and our other friends all told me in a chorus of that’s absolute bullshit exactly what they thought of Nate’s efforts. And my thoughts, all weekend and this morning, kept drifting back to that night at Masquerade. Wondering if I can ever go back to a relationship like the one I had with Nate, when I know what else is possible now.

I look at Ivan. Could he make me feel that? I don’t know. I’m still not convinced that night is something that can be replicated in reality. But I want to explore. I want to find out what possibilities are on the other side of this relationship that has crashed and burned so spectacularly.

“I just got out of a relationship,” I tell him hesitantly. “I’m not looking for anything serious right now. Truthfully, I’m not even sure what I am looking for.”

That smirk returns, teasing the corners of his mouth. “It’s just dinner,” he says teasingly. “I’m not proposing.”

I can’t help but flinch a little at that, thinking of the ring I found in the closet. The ring that Nate has now—or that maybe he already returned. I can’t be sure. Based on his calls and texts, I think he might still be hoping that I’ll change my mind, that he’ll get me back.

I want to close the door on that, as firmly as I can. So I take a breath, nodding.

“Okay, then. What about Friday night?” I don’t have any plans yet. The best I had come up with had involved a bottle of wine and bad reality TV.

“Friday night it is.” His smile widens. “Can I give you my number?”

It strikes me as odd that he asked to give me his, rather than asking for mine. But it also occurs to me that maybe he wants to give me the space to contact him, to be the one who reaches out. He’s already come on strong by walking up to the table and introducing himself out of nowhere. I can only assume he’s trying to make me more comfortable by putting the ball in my court.

“Sure.” I pick up my phone, and he reaches out, sliding it smoothly out of my hand as soon as my Face ID unlocks it. It takes me aback, and I look at him, wondering if I should protest. He just took my phone out of my hand, after all. But there’s something about it, a certain confidence, the way he smiles at me as he starts to type his contact information into my phone, that makes me think I’m overreacting.

He’s charming and polite, and he hasn’t done anything overtly offensive. I’m being too prickly, because of Nate. Too suspicious, because of who I am as a person. I need to give this man some breathing room to show me who he really is, or I’m going to ruin a good thing before it even gets started.

He hands me back my phone after a moment. “There.” His smile softens again, and there’s a sudden sincerity in it. “I know I came on very strong. Text me when you’re sure about the date, and we’ll decide where to go and what to do.”

See? I let out a breath, relaxing as I realize that it was exactly what I’d told myself. He wanted to give me the chance to think things over. To text him and give him my number when I’m sure. “That’s very thoughtful of you,” I tell him, motioning for the server. Neither of us has touched our meals, and I’m going to end up getting mine to-go and eating it at my desk. My lunch break is almost over.

“I want you to be comfortable.” He takes the to-go box from the server, that smile still on his face. “I’m hoping this is going to be the first date of many.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I tell him, boxing up my sandwich and handing the server my card, before Ivan can hand over his. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t looking for anything. But we’ll see.”

The truth is, I’m already far too attracted to him for my own good. I’m already thinking that I might want more than one date, too.

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