Page 67 of Mr. Hook-up

Fortunately, the waitress returned with our drinks, giving me a few seconds to get my thoughts straight and to take a sip, squeezing the coldness between my hands once I was done. “I want you to understand something, Easton. I only planned to spend thirty days on the app. Saara, my best friend, whose name probably sounds familiar, convincedme to join, and she set up my account, hence the username she picked. Thirty days, Easton—that was it.”

“Jesus.” He analyzed my eyes. “Why?”

“I had just lost my mother and I was an emotional wreck. I was drowning in grief and homework and work for Faceframe. Saara wanted me to have fun before I took off for Palo Alto, and she thought the app would ensure that. Some meaningless, uncommitted sex, exactly what Hooked was designed for, to get me out of my head and give me some emotional freedom. That’s why I joined, to just give me a break from life. I never expected to find you or to have the feelings I had.”

His brows rose. “But I made it clear how badly I wanted you, especially after the masquerade party. What happened? What changed?”

“Like I said, I was on the verge of finishing school, and at that point I’d already accepted a position with Faceframe, and they were having me travel all over the country. I was so young, I was only twenty-two years old, and I had an opportunity that I’d always dreamed of. Once Mom was gone, that became my focus. It was all I could see—but then there was you. And you made things messy in my head. You made me question if I wanted to leave, and that scared the shit out of me.”

“So you ran.”

“I shut down, and yes, I walked away.” My voice softened. “But, Easton, I was already going anyway. My lease in California had been signed, I had a move date. Was I wondering if I was making the right choice? Of course, and that’s why I asked you for advice. But really, at that point, my decision was made. I just followed through without laying all the details on the table and being completely honest with you. And that was wrong, I shouldn’t have handled it that way. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.” When he said nothing, I added, “I want you to know that, in my head, I saw the way we were going to end if things between us continued. With us on opposite sides of the country, our time together stretched so thin, and it would have crushed me. I didn’t want to break ... even more than I already was.”

He was quiet for a moment, moving his drink around but not bringing it up to his lips. “I was all about you, Drake. You were the one I wanted. The one I was going to change for.”

“And you were the one I wanted, and that was terrifying. One month of texting and phone conversations and I was considering backing out of the job at Faceframe, staying in Boston, and turning us into more. Or, on the flip side of that, asking a man whose name I didn’t even know and whose face I hadn’t ever seen to give up his marriage to Boston and move to the other side of the country with me.” I reached for him again, needing his skin, desperate for him to understand. “Our circumstances were hard and tricky. I had no idea how to navigate any of it. I just knew that I didn’t want to lose what I’d worked so hard for, so I pulled back. I put more than just miles between us.”

“But to change your number? That, I don’t get.”

I sighed. That day, like so many others, had hurt.

“Faceframe gave me a company phone and there was no reason to maintain two lines, so I got rid of my personal one. Before I did that, every morning I would wake up and look to see if there was a text from you. I was battling the loss of my mom, and I couldn’t even distinguish grief from happiness anymore. I was just moving, keeping busy, burying myself as deep as I could so I didn’t have to think about that permanent hole in my chest.” I stopped to breathe. “I could have reached out, of course, but again, I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust what I’d say to you, what I’d promise you, what I’d ultimately do if you asked me for more. I wasn’t in the right headspace. So I thought if I disconnected, if I made it impossible for us to communicate, I would be able to move on.”

“Did you?”

I shook my head. “Not even close.”

Silence ticked between us, but his stare was as strong as ever.

It didn’t just hit my face.

It penetrated far below my skin.

“I regret not being honest with you and not giving you my new number,” I told him. “That’s something I have to live with, not you.”

His thumb went over my hand, sliding to the inside of my wrist, rubbing the letters tattooed there. “Your tiny tattoo,” he whispered. “L. E. M.”

“Lilly Elenore Madden. My mom.”

“I always wondered and never asked.” He was silent for several moments. “Drake, I understand the regret you felt, but why wasn’t it strong enough for you to rejoin Hooked and find me?”

Those words hit hard.

Enough that I had to look away, sucking my lip into my mouth, chewing the end of it. “It wouldn’t have changed the fact that I was in California, you were in Boston, and neither of us were bending on that.”

More quiet passed between us until he said, “You owned my thoughts for so long. I think, in some way, I tried to forget every piece of you. The tone of your voice, the scent of your skin, the way you look at me—the same way you looked at me that night at the party. Maybe I should have figured it out, maybe I should have known the second I walked into the conference room, but I didn’t.” He released my hand and tilted away from the table, pushing up the sleeves of his thin sweater. “I just knew that there was something about you that was achingly familiar, whether you were someone I’d hooked up with in the past or sat beside during an international flight or shared a smile with on the sidewalk. In some way, you weren’t new, and neither were my feelings, and those started up again the moment you interviewed.” His focus shifted all across my face, and he slid his drink to the side so not a single piece of glass sat between us. “Drake, you came clean, you told me all of this for a reason. What is it?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Easton

As I stared at Drake, waiting for her to reply, my mind reeled, recalling the conversations we’d had all those years ago. The long, in-depth chats. The banter. The chemistry.

The stairwell.

The phone sex.

Our connection had been thick from the start. That was why I had pushed so hard to see her again. I wanted to know what it would feel like to take the mask off and memorize her face.

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