Page 10 of Easy To Lose

It doesn’t take long for her to respond, and I make sure to write down the date and time so I don’t forget. Because knowing me, if I don’t set a reminder, I will definitely be getting a text from Charly telling me that she’s landed, and I’m nowhere near the airport. I put my phone into my purse and make my way to the store.

When I get there, Becca is standing outside, talking to Owen. I don’t know why I feel the surge of jealousy I do the moment I see them, but I push it down, calling Becca to the front door.

“Morning, M,” Owen calls from next door, and I give him a curt nod, saying nothing as I open the store and let myself in. I know I’m purposefully ignoring him, but I’m not ready to talk about what happened. And from the look on his gorgeous face, that’s all he wants to do.

“Wow, you’re in a bad mood today,” Becca groans as I sigh, knowing I am, and I don’t ever want to take my bad moods out on her.

“Sorry. I had a rough night.” She nods as we set our stuff down behind the front counter, and I turn and survey what we have to do today.

“I might have something to pick your day up!” Becca says, clapping beside me. From the excited look on her face, I know immediately that I will not enjoy whatever she has in store for me.

“Please tell me you didn’t do anything to the store…” The dread creeps up because Charly and I have talked at length about what the aesthetic of this place should be and worked endless hours designing every last detail and making sure it’s exactly what she wants.

“Of course, not!” she says, smiling. I pull out my to-do list and begin walking around the store, making new line items as I go so I don’t forget. “But I did set you up on a blind date tonight.” I stop dead in my tracks. She didn’t say what I think she said...did she?

I slowly turn, only to see the face-splitting smile on Becca’s face. She looks so proud of herself, so happy that she did this for me. I try to ignore the gut-wrenching, sinking feeling trying to overtake my body.

“What?” I choke out, hoping to God I heard her wrong.

“Yeah! This guy I know from the coffee shop asked me out. I turned him down but said I had a hot friend that he should go out with. And he said yes! Isn’t that amazing?” Everything she just said makes me break out in hives. Knowing that he asked her out first makes me wonder what he’s going to think of me. Becca is gorgeous with her long, wavy, chestnut hair, tanned skin, and hazel eyes. To compare the two of us would be lunacy. Second, she called me hot, something no one has ever said when describing me before, so that’s a red herring if I ever heard one. Nothing about this sounds amazing.

“Um, I don’t think I’m ready to date yet,” I mumble, avoiding her eyes and scanning the room one more time before making my way to the back to get some more products to display.

“Come on, Morgan! I know you just got out of a long relationship, but you need to get back out there! What’s the worst that can happen?” As a person who constantly worries about almost everything, that is the last thing she should have said to me. I give her a look that lets her know I have a list in my brain of things that could go horribly wrong, but she just waves me off and comes over to where I’m standing. “This could be a good thing. Get yourself out there again...get laid.” As much as I want to scold her for being so interested in my sex life, she’s not wrong. It’s been a long time since a man was anywhere near my body, and as much as I try to fight it, I crave it.

“Fine,” I relent, knowing this could end in disaster. “I’ll go. But if this turns out to be a nightmare, you are working nights for the rest of the month.” Becca winks as she tells me all the details I need to know to meet the guy tonight.

God help me.

* * *

I knew I should have stayed home. I also knew that going on a blind date was the worst idea ever, but I didn’t listen to my gut. I listened to Becca because she dangled the idea of sex in my face. We are miles away from that scenario, and all I want to do is crawl under the table and hide for the foreseeable future.

Marshall sits in front of me, giving the waitress eyes as she flirts with him directly in front of me. He’s good-looking in a classic way—dark hair, light eyes, and a jaw that could cut glass. When I walked up, I hoped this might go well...that notion died quickly.

Now, I’m holding up my menu, hoping this date ends sooner rather than later. At first, I thought it was going okay. He pulled out my chair when I sat down, asked me about my job, and how it was moving from New York to Miami. Everything seemed great until we ordered food. The second I opened my mouth, he stopped me. Instead, he turned to the waitress and said, “She’ll have the avocado salad, dressing on the side…obviously.” They both snickered as he ordered a steak with a side of potatoes, the one thing on this awful menu I wanted to order. When I told him that I didn’t like avocado, he just shrugged and said, “It’s good for you, you should try it,” before handing both menus to the waitress.

I let that one slide because I thought it was just a one-off, but the longer we sit, the more uncomfortable I become. He watches as I eat the disgusting salad, commenting on how leaving the vegetables to the side—something I’ve done since I was a kid—negates the healthy choice of the salad. I want to tell him that maybe he should eat them since he ordered for me, but I keep my mouth shut.

When I ask the waiter for a slice of cheesecake, and Marshall says, “We’re not having dessert, thanks,” I decide that’s it.

“You know what, Marshall? I’m done. I would say it was nice to meet you, but that would be a lie. And since you haven’t held your tongue all night regarding my weight, I’m not going to stay quiet either.” His eyes narrow as I stand, smoothing out my little black dress, ready to bolt the second I’m done talking. “You might be good-looking, but that is the only good thing about you. You are crass, cocky, and so unbelievably self-involved that being in a conversation with you is a nightmare. I hope we never meet again.” I give him a small wave right before I grab my purse from the back of the chair and head outside.

The cool breeze sends a chill up my spine as I try and hail a cab. Unfortunately, I come up empty, so I start walking. After a few minutes, I curse the high heels I chose to wear tonight, feeling their bite and knowing that if I don’t stop walking soon, I’ll regret it later.

As I stop in front of an old ice cream shop to give my feet a break, I can’t help but stare at my reflection. When I left my house earlier, I figured I looked good. I thought the dress showed off my best curves, and the heels showcased how long my legs can appear when I try hard enough. But the longer I stand here staring, the more I notice my imperfections. The way my love handles pop out, even though I wore Spanx for that specific reason. The way my arm fat settles against me when my arms dangle at my sides. Even the double chin that I thought I had grown accustomed to over the years seems to mock me, reminding me of every word Marshall said.

I finally hail a cab at the corner and tell the driver to take me to Head Over Heels right before the tears start to fall. I know I should probably go home, but the idea of being there, alone, with just my thoughts, sends me into an anxious spiral.

Keeping myself busy sounds like a brilliant idea.

Chapter 9

Owen

“You staying late?” Matt asks as he picks up his bag and heads for the front door. I’ve been here all day, and I’m exhausted. But the idea of going home doesn’t appeal either. I’ve spent most of the day looking out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Morgan as she leaves, but I must have missed her because Becca left hours ago, and the lights have been out ever since.

“Yeah, I have a few things left to do,” I lie, hoping he buys it and leaves. His expression tells me he doesn’t, but he leaves anyway. I spend the next few minutes browsing the internet on my phone until I see headlights. When I look outside, a cab pulls up and stops in front of Head Over Heels. Before I have a chance to guess who’s in the car, the door opens, and Morgan steps out. At first, I almost don’t recognize her because she has makeup on, her hair is down, and she’s wearing a little black dress that hugs her curves in a way that makes my cock rock-hard. She looks absolutely gorgeous.

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