Page 10 of Texting My Valentine

“I know, right?” I tease. “Talk about laying it on thick.”

“Don’t make me beg,” Cleo says. “I’ll get down on my knees. Do you want to humiliate me?”

“Sort of. But fine. Why not? It’s not like I have to text them back.”

CHAPTER 4

ALEX

“Sulking is a bad look,” I tell Julian.

“I’m not sulking,” he says… while sulking.

“I didn’t know they were both going to leave,” I tell him. “I didn’t want to give her the wrong impression.”

“They were ready for a good time, and you basically told them to go to hell. And what for? So we could sit at the corner of the bar like two depressing old men and have no fun at all. Not everything has to be so serious all the time, Alex.”

“Look, ifTinkerandBellewant to have a good time, they can find somebody else. I’m not interested in anything casual.”

“Or anything serious,” Julian points out. “What are you interested in, bro? Working eighteen-hour days so you don’t have to think about the rest of your life?” After a pause, he says, “I’m sorry. That was harsh. You’re right. I’m being an ass.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. This isn’t something to fight about. Call me an ass so I can feel better about it.”

“You’re an ass. Happy now?”

“Very.” He sips his beer. “Anyway, if Iamsulking—and I’m not agreeing—maybe you could help me out. Let me put your number in the bowl.”

I look over to the line of people at the stage. Two lines, men and women. The woman with the wild hair and the magnetic smile sits at a table. Does that mean she’s not putting her number in?

“Come on,” Julian says. “It’ll be fun. Some harmless texting.”

Maybe he’s right. He apologized for his dig about me making work my life, but he has a point. Perhaps I need to let go from time to time. I can’t live with a vice grip on life just because some shitty things happened to me once upon a time.

“Fine, go on. Do it. You madman.”

“Yippee!” he practically squeals.

“Christ, Julian. You didn’t just say ‘yippee.’”

“Young at heart, old buddy,” he says, chuckling as he slides from the barstool.

I sip my drink—I’m still on my first—and try not to stare at the woman. I can’t lie.

I’m curious. I think that’s the right word. And there’s this rumbling deep down, my loins stirring, excitement tickling at the edges of my usually cold consciousness.

When she laughs, it has an edge to it, an attitude.

Julian returns. “I’m getting another drink while I wait for the love of my life to text me.”

“If she doesn’t, I’m sure you’ll find one of your own.”

“Amen to that.” He laughs. “It’ll be time to collect the numbers soon… I wonder how sneaky they’re going to be with the envelopes. Think I’ll be able to spy my Juliet?”

“I’ve got everything crossed for you,” I say dryly.

I watch as a tall, fit man walks from behind the bar and approaches my stranger’s table. Julian busies himself chatting up one of the barmaids that just passed by. Is he her boyfriend? I’ve got no right to be jealous, but goddamn it, sue me. I don’t want her to have a boyfriend.

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