Page 117 of If Our Hearts Collide

I turn to Luke, who seems to be busy doing math. “It’s just adding. Why are you acting like you are solving some difficult calculus problem?”

“Eleven,” he says with the cheesiest grin. “It’s basically an entire orgy if I invite them all over for”—he points to his groin—“introductions tonight.”

I groan. “Ew.”

Rex leans into me. “You better buy some stock in cleaning products. A solid sanitizing wipe can go a long way.”

Luke shakes his head at us. “Don’t worry, the chances are slim. I’d need them all to wear name tags, that’s for sure. That all sounds like too much work. I’m in my lazy-lover mode era. I’m simple in the way that I just need one woman and both pairs of her lips.”

When the host hands me my results, I look over the slip, trying to decipher what I’m actually seeing. This can’t be right…

“Excuse me?” I say, causing him to turn around. “Is there some kind of mistake?” I lower my voice. “It appears that no one actually chose me.”

He shifts his body weight to his other foot, glancing down to get a better look. “Huh. That’s weird. That’s never happened before, and I’ve been doing this event for nine years.”

A warmth rushes up my neck to my cheeks, but the rest of me is chilled. Without another word, I pivot and move straight to the front counter, where I order another sangria—downing it with just a few gulps and nearly choking on the cut up bits of fruit.

This is so embarrassing.

A buzz fills my ears, causing me to shift on my feet. I grab the counter, straightening my body.

I need to get out of here.Now.

The air in here seems thicker, like I’m trying to suck mashed potatoes through a straw.

Reaching into my handbag, I pull out my phone, seeing that my ride isn’t scheduled to arrive for another hour. Glancing around the space, I see couples chatting amongst themselves, probably setting up future dates. I thought tonight was going to go differently. I thought that I was here to banish some social fears and maybe start dating again.

Margo would be proud of me if I wasn’t mentally spiraling into a full-blown freak-out moment.

The only thing I accomplished was to drink a little too much and to chip away more at my self-esteem. I keep building it up, just to break it down. If I don’t have my brothers breathing down my neck, squashing all of my past dating possibilities, then I have my own insecurities creeping in through any crack in my exterior.

But really, who needs Nic and Graham to scare away guys, when I have a personality that seems to be doing the job equally as well?

Seriously though… What turned everyone off so I can keep that shit under wraps?

A pang of regret hits my stomach that is compressing into knots, after the surge of alcohol hit it. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have put myself in this vulnerable position to get humiliated.

Making my way toward the exit, I push open the door and breathe in the fresh night air. I swipe my hair behind my shoulders and rock on my heels, thinking about where to go and what to do next.

It sucks not having friends in the city. I guess I could ask Luke or Rex for a lift, but they are busy flirting with their matches inside. Who could blame them? It’s an exciting time—at least for those who have made mutual connections.

Calling Angie or Claire will alert my brothers, who will just crack down on more shadowing for me.

Looking down at my feet, I try to think of how tonight got so off course. I had really good conversations with so many of the guys. I wasn’t shy, and I don’t think I gave off any negative vibe.

But what do I know?

Obviously, nothing. I know nothing about the opposite sex.

Staring at my hands, I realize I no longer have my handbag, which has my phone and house keys.

Shit.

I must have dropped it.

Turning on my heel, I make my way back into the coffee shop to find it in the shadow of the door.

Looking up, I see a couple of the guys I expected to be matched with loitering in some sort of testosterone circle. We all had really good conversation, so not having any of them select me is really mind-boggling.

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