CHAPTER ONE
San Francisco isn’t known for its sunny days, but a massive cloud has been hanging over my life since the night I met Grant Moore.
Darkness closes in and I resort to bargaining. “Get me through tonight without seeing Grant and I’ll never eat another Oreo again,” I promise the ceiling.
It doesn’t answer back.
“But only the regular ones. The birthday cake flavor is still on the table,” I renegotiate our deal.
The room is brightly lit, but shadows linger in each corner. In my mind they reach out for me like long distorted hands of an unknown beast. The action figures lined up in neat rows on the walls stare at us, their blank eyes tracking each movement. Well… for what it’s worth I’m pretty sure Hellboy is supposed to look demonic.
A loud tapping sound heralds the end to my privacy on the couch. Aspen barks out an order for no whip on her hot chocolate and I sigh, not ready to socialize. I squish my butt into the cushion of the orange couch hoping for it to swallow me up and then deposit me elsewhere. Far away from Cosmo’s Comics and Café and the ladies I’ve come to call the RDA girls. Luck is not on my side as Simone, the tall blue-eyed blonde happy member of the group plops down on the couch beside me.
There goes my plan of remaining unnoticed.
“Clare, I’m so glad you came.”
I’ve used many excuses over the last few months to get out of various RDA girl gatherings, but when it came time to bow out of tonight, my mind ran blank. The party to celebrate Aspen’s one-year anniversary of moving to San Francisco isn’t one I could miss. Aspen is too nice and the date too special. Even I’m not that cold-hearted.
“Yeah. I’m ecstatic,” I reply and put on my biggest fake smile.
Simone frowns. “Your expression says otherwise.”
“Oh this?” I circle my face with a single finger. “This is my over the moon face.”
“Don’t quoteVeronica Marsto me.” She shakes her head, her eyes squinty. “I’m the one who made you watch it.”
I groan at her reminder.Veronica Marsis what happened the last time I couldn’t think of an excuse in time to bow out of a planned activity. I showed up for a simple Sunday brunch, which quickly turned into an ongoingVeronica Marsmarathon. Do you have any idea how long it takes to watch three seasons and a movie with Aspen and Marissa constantly arguing over who’s cuter, Duncan or Logan?
Duncan obviously.
Somehow every event one of the RDA girls plans has a habit of turning into an all-day excursion. It’s like magic. But black magic that makes my mission to avoid Grant harder and harder with every turn. In order to watchVeronica Marswithout a Grant interruption I continuously thought of meeting places I wouldn’t expect one or more of the guys to show up. Trust me, it’s harder than it sounds.
There’s an entire process to this whole avoidance game. I’ve spent a lot of time and energy dodging Grant Moore the last two months. It wasn’t easy. Fake meetings, work emergencies, and faux illnesses. Once I had the flu… in May. I’m pretty sure no one bought it, but I was desperate. It’s a known fact; desperate people… think of horrible excuses.
I’m sure Grant’s a nice guy, but there’s an unwritten agreement when you have a one-night stand — you don’t have to see them again. Two months ago after consuming more alcohol than an elephant at a kegger, I threw caution to the wind and had a very… productive one-night stand with Grant. The sex was off the charts hot, but I didn’t consider the fact I don’t do rich guys and he’s a founding member of the RDA group. A group that is hell bent on adding me as a new initiate regardless of how many times I try to blow them off.
Marissa twists her long brown hair into a messy bun and sits on the couch across from us. “Word on the street is Grant will stop by later, but we got your back, Clare.”
“Exactly. I don’t care who the guy is. No one has a one-night stand with one of us and doesn’t call her again,” Simone says patting me on the knee.
“Thatisthe definition of a one-night stand.” I leave out the part where I’m the one who bailed on Grant. I’m ashamed enough that I, Clare Cunningham, slept with a rich guy. I don’t want to keep hearing reminders.
In my defense the topic never came up officially in conversation. The girls assumed Grant never called me and that’s why I’ve been cagey and concerned with being in the same room as him. From his past behavior of forgetting the names of women he slept with, it’s a logical jump for them to make. Which is reason number 398 why I do not belong with Grant Moore.
Funny, sweet, and kind, but forever the bachelor of the group, Grant Moore.
“Plus, I don’t want to mess up your group dynamic here. Of the two of us, I’m the one who doesn’t belong.” Maybe they’ll take pity on me and let me go home?
“What makes you say that? Of course you do.” Simone’s concern is touching. I wish I could be a better friend, but if I open myself up now, their future rejection will hurt that much worse.
“You’ve known one another forever.”
“Pssft,” Marissa spits the sound. “We picked up Simone a few months ago when she was broke, homeless, and two days away from living in a cardboard box. And look at her now.”
“Thanks, guys,” Simone says in sarcasm, smacking her lips together.
Marissa shakes her head. “We’re getting away from the point.” She waves a hand in front of her. “Men are stupid. Sometimes they don’t realize how stupid they’re being so we have to tell them. It’s our job.”
