Page 4 of Tempted to Touch

"I'm gonna..." I gesture vaguely toward my table, like a champion of eloquence.

Hayden nods and pushes himself off the bar. He flashes me one last friendly smile—the kind that probably makes flowers grow and angels sing—and turns to head back to his table.

Before I can stop myself, I can taste his name on my tongue. It's bittersweet. "Hayden?"

He looks over his shoulder, and my brain screams at me to shut up, but my mouth has apparently filed for independence.

I take a sharp breath and hesitate for a moment. Should I say it?

Ah, fuck it. Might as well. It's not like I'll ever see him again. "Thanks for hitting on me."

I turn on my heel as I finish the sentence—I neither need nor want a response.

I make my way back to our table, and when I catch Ivy's eye, I realize I'm wearing the kind of grin usually reserved for people who've just won the lottery or found out their ex got food poisoning. Shit. I quickly try to rearrange my face into something more appropriate for someone who's about to disappoint their best friend.

Damn it.

He would have been perfect.

Chapter 2

THERE ARE SOME weeks that just fly by and you barely even notice—you know, when you're busy or in the flow or lots of random things are happening all at once.

Well, my week has been the exact opposite of that. Not only did nothing happen, my brain has been rehashing last Thursday's events a million times per day, keeping me stuck in a groundhog day I still don't know how to escape from.

I sigh and roll to the other side, my afternoon nap eluding me once again. If I could file a restraining order against my own thoughts, I would.

And the worst part is, I have absolutely nothing to do.

Post-Hayden—because somewhere along the way I started to divide my recent past into two categories: pre-Hayden and post-Hayden—we'd changed locations and I'd done my peacock dance on Ivy's behalf once more, and this time, it worked like a charm.

Which would have been the perfect happily ever after if it weren't for the fact she's currently on her third date with a guy named Jamie—handsome, straight, with perfectly boring eyebrows—leaving me alone with the stew of my own thoughts. Which she had caused, all things considered.

Totally fucking unfair.

I have absolutely no reason to be thinking about Hayden, anyway. And frankly, I'm not. It's not the man that's been keeping me up at night—and during the day for that matter—it's how the man made mefeel.

I've been chasing that feeling ever since, like it's crack and I'm withdrawing. Which is fucking tragic, considering I don't have his phone number, last name, or any other scrap of information that would bring me closer to another hit.

Obviously—obviously—I wouldn't... do anything, but maybe the mere want in his eyes would be enough. Maybe we could even be friends or something. Casual. Platonic.Obviously.

I run a palm across my face, sleep deprivation making my eyes sting. Then, it hits me. Like a metric ton of bricks, right in the face, the absolute worst, most ridiculous idea I've ever had.

No. It's dumb.

I'm not doing that.

I stay in that conviction for about point three seconds before my hands move on their own accord as I grab my phone and open the app store.

Totally fucking moronic. I don't need to do that. I don't want to do that.

Damn, why does it take so long to download?

Don't do it.

Install.

Don't do it.

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