Page 2 of My Pucking Valentine

“Oh no, she’s got the wine out,” Barbara calls out from the entry to the kitchen.

I don’t bother looking over my shoulder. Instead, I bring the glass to my lips before I slowly turn to face her. When I lower the glass, I shrug a shoulder before I speak.

“It’s Saturday night,” I snap.

“And Valentine’s Day,” Sarah mumbles.

Barbara’s lips twitch into a smirk. “Let’s go out. Screw him.”

Doesn’t she realize that’s exactly what I wanted to do tonight?

Screw him.

Any and every way possible.

Sarah shakes her head, moving into the kitchen as well before she speaks. “Seriously, Clara. Let’s go out. You can’t sit at home waiting for some guy who is nothing more than a fuck buddy.”

I cringe because they don’t understand. They couldn’t. He’s more than just afuck buddy—so much more. He’s absolutely everything to me. But tonight, he obviously has better things to do, and as much as I don’t want to feel bitter, I feel exactly that way—bitter as hell.

I wanted champagne and chocolates. To be eaten and devoured for hours. Is that too much to ask? I’ve resigned myself to the fact that what we are can be nothing more than whispered promises, but I was hoping to pretend, just for one night.

Tipping my head back, I finish the contents of my wine before placing my glass on the counter. Then I lift my gaze to meet theirs and flick it between them before I give them a smile.

“Okay, I’ll go out.”

It’s the last thing I want to do, but at the same time, I can’t sit here and wallow in my misery. Going out is the only way to take my mind off things, and since I’m already dressed…

I’m good to go.

A few minutes later, the three of us are in a rideshare and headed toward our favorite bar,Midnight Hour.

Considering it’s the most miserable or most romantic night of the year, depending on how you look at it—this year, I’m going with miserable—I’m not surprised there’s a line around the building to get in. Though we don’t have to worry about it since Barbara dates the head bouncer, and everyone here knows exactly who we are.

The moment we walk inside, a chill of excitement wriggles up my spine. Something is in the air tonight, and I should probably be anxious about it, but I’ve already downed a glass of wine, so I’m ready for anything… maybe.

TWO

LUKE

The guys areall drinking and carrying on around me. A few of them are flirting with women at the bar, and a couple more are dancing. They’ve all made it very clear that they’ll be taking women home tonight.

It’s Valentine’s Day, after all, and the women are buzzing with sexual energy, but I’m sitting at the table, water in one hand and whiskey in the other—alone. Wishing I were somewhere else.

“You’re acting like you’re married,” Eli announces, sinking down next to me in the empty chair.

My heart jumps in my chest. Shaking my head once, I clear my throat before I take another sip from my glass of whiskey. Nobody knows about her. Nobody can know about her.

“Not married,” I grunt, wondering if he can tell exactly how much that comment causes me to pause.

“Then who are you fucking?” he asks.

My eyes widen, and I flick my attention to him. We’re roommates, and I’ve never brought her to my place, so I don’t know why he would guess that. But it’s another comment that causes bullets of sweat to slide down my back.

I can’t believe he actually asked me that, although I shouldn’t be surprised. They all talk about their conquests. I never add to that conversation, though. I’m just not necessarily one to kiss and tell.

At least, I’m not when it comes to Clara. Others I have, but not her.

She’s special, but there would also be consequences if the world were to find out about us. There is something about her that takes my breath away every time I lay my eyes on her. I’ve fallen for her.

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