Page 10 of Fractured Rhythm

Which wasn’t much of a stretch.

But coffee and ibuprofen had made me feel human by Sunday afternoon at least.

God. I hated what he did to me. First loves were the absolute worst. I’d fucking moved on. Goddammit. And now I dreaded walking into the bar. What if he was there?

What if he wasn’t?

“You keep disappearing on me? What’s up with that?” Holly asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Sorry. Long week. So we’re going to this bar so you can hook up with Gray again? His tongue must’ve been epic.” I pasted a grin on my face, trying to lighten the mood.

“It was, but are you going to tell me how you know Mr. Broody?”

“I don’t.”

“Stop lying.”

I took in a deep breath. If I couldn’t be honest with my bestie, what was the point of friendship?

“Fine. That was the ex. I have no idea why he’s in New York. I haven’t seen him in years.” I paused, giving Holly a half-smile.

“Holy shit, Cas. How could you keep that from me? I’m sorry. Do you want to go somewhere else tonight? We could head back to your place and binge on Netflix and pizza.”

My laugh came out painful. “We are not dressed for Netflix and pizza. It’s fine. I need a night out, and what are the odds of him showing up again? I mean, that was a random one-off, right?”

“Probably. But, seriously, I need more details on that guy. I can’t believe that was the ex. What are the freaking odds?”

“You’re telling me,” I grumbled.

“Well, we are going to have a fun night, and if the bar sucks, we’ll find a place to go dancing.” Holly tugged me around the corner. The bar was just up the street.

“You just want an excuse to suck face with Gray,” I teased. I needed to change her focus or it would be on me all night.

“Yeah, but I can do that any time if you want to bail.”

“No. Let’s have a few drinks. They play actual music on Fridays. No open mic night, right?”

“Right,” Holly said as we paid a cover charge and walked into the bar.

The vibe tonight was different. The tables from the center of the room had been cleared to the side, and a decent crowd danced to a mash-up of club and rock music from a live band on stage. It was a change from the open mic night last week. The gleaming bar was packed, but I spotted a lone barstool in the corner.

“Come on. Let’s get that drink,” Holly said, pulling me toward the empty spot.

“Hello there,” the bartender said.

This was Gray, if that smirk was anything to go by. He was hot, with dirty blond hair that looked permanently tousled and a deep smile with a dimple peeking out.

Holly shamelessly flirted with the guy as he filled two pint glasses with beer and deposited them in front of us, promising to check in with us shortly. He winked at Holly one last time before he turned to make another guy’s drink.

“You’re going to park yourself here all night and flirt?”

“Hell no. We are going to knock these back and get on the dance floor. The band’s not bad, right?”

I smiled. “Nope. Not at all.”

I scanned the bar as I sipped my drink, visibly relaxing when I didn’t spot Bash. Yeah, he probably wouldn’t set foot in this bar again, and that was exactly what I wanted.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I took another look around.

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