Page 37 of The Valentine's Bet

His eyes brighten. “I don’t know. What areyoudoing after this?”

“I have a rooftop New Year’s Eve party to go to. You’re more than welcome to come along with me.”

Josh smiles. “Will there be a bunch of uneducated folks there?”

“No, mostly software engineers, business owners—those kinds of people,” I say, keeping a smile on my face. There’s nothing wrong with Josh wanting to be around people who are academic... right? He’s just challenging himself.

“Well then, count me in.”

“It’s actually just a few blocks from here. I can meet you back here at 7:30 and then we can walk together. I’m not really comfortable giving my address out.” I think back to Parker’s advice—or, well, his comment about not telling people where he lives.

“Perfect. I’ll meet you here tonight.”

I nod.

I just hope he shows.

Chapter Twelve

Parker

“I thought you were walking Amy here?” Weston asks, tipping back his beer and taking a swig.

“Nope,” I say, taking in the city skyline. We can see the ball from the rooftop and hear the mess of music and chaos from the festivities. “I think she found a date.”

“Oh! Good for her ... but you don’t look too happy about it.” Weston makes a face.

“Oh, I don’t care. I just don’t wanna lose that bet I told you about.”

“The bet over concert tickets, really?”

“Yeah, those Band Allen tickets she wants are freaking expensive. I don’t want to be in the hole for twelve hundred bucks.”

“You’re the one who came up with the bet, though.” Weston laughs. “And we both know you can easily afford those tickets...”

“Sure, but it’s the principle. I don’t make bets I can’t win.”

“I’m not so sure about this one, man. Amy is very obviously hellbent on finding love.”

“Yeah, I guess... But we both know it’s not going to happen. She’s way too caught up in the finding part. She almost entertained a totalcreepat Central Park. It’s painful to watch.”

Weston looks past me toward the rooftop entrance. “Speaking of, there she is—and you’re right, she’snotalone.”

I whip my head around, taking in the sight of Amy wearing a stunning long-sleeved fitted black dress, her dark hair in curls. I stare at her for a moment too long, unable to pull my gaze from the material clinging to her hips in a way that probably a lot of men would findveryhot...

Not me, though.

I push the attraction away and switch my attention to the man beside her. He’s tall, dark-headed—that seems to be her type—and sporting a nice suit. He’s definitely a jerk. I can tell by the way he’s casting a judgmental gaze across the crowd.

Or maybe he’s just scoping out the place.

I don’t know.

I shouldn’t even care.

“Can you reallynotstare at her? Like, come on, Parker.”

“I wasn’t staring,” I argue and look at my best friend, who’s got an eyebrow raised at me. “I wasn’t,” I say again.

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