“Worse,” I say, leaning back and folding my arms across my chest. “My boss. And even worse than that: My ex is here, and my boss is forcing the both of us into every single-mingle-dating-hating cesspool of activity this city has to offer until we’re able to work together again to her liking.”
His eyes stare into mine for a moment before he straightens and says, “Sounds like a job for someextra-strength sangria. I’ll bring over a pitcher and keep ‘em coming.”
“Thank you,” I sigh. He walks away and leans over the bar probably telling the bartender my sad story in hopes she can help get mesangribriated.
“I don’t even think Dex is here,” Nate whispers next to me.
“Oh, he is.” The moment we stepped foot onto the rooftop, I knew exactly where he was standing. I felt him there before my eyes found him. He’s still there now, across the noisy, crowded roof, talking to three really pretty brunettes. Spreading laughs like they’re herpes. But every few minutes he peeks up, and our eyes meet, and the rest of the world fades to muted grays while we momentarily connect with one another, then quickly looks away. It’s happened three times already. Each time my stomach flips and heat spreads out across my chest.
“Where?” Nate asks, cocking his head around.
“He’s directly across from us. Standing around a pub table with three dark-haired women,” I say, flitting my eyes in that direction.
Again, Dex’s gaze meets mine.
My cheeks warm as I quickly avert my eyes. This is too hard. Even though there’s a mess of things between us and confusing feelings, all I really want to do is walk over there and spend time with him again. I still really miss him.
The server returns and slides an enormous pitcher of sangria onto the table in front of us. He pours each of us a glass and winks at me as he drops a straw in mine. “Enjoy,” he says, staring at me a bit too long before walking away.
I grab the glass and sip at the straw. God, it’s delicious. And really strong. “This is quite sangriable,” I say to Nate and Julia.
“So is our waiter. And he’s totally eye-fucking you. You should pull him into the bathroom,” Julia giggles.
Nope. He’s not the guy I want to pull into the bathroom right now. I sneak another look in Dex’s direction and he’s already staring back at me. His eyebrows raise a little and his head tilts to the side.
I don’t look away while I sip my drink until the entire glass is empty.
He smiles back at me.
I drop my eyes and refill my sangria with trembling hands. I want to look up again, but I’m having trouble catching my breath. I want to check to see if he’s still watching me. My skin breaks out in a cold sweat. What the hell is wrong with me? I lift my gaze back up and, oh God, Dex is still staring at me. I can’t do this. I have to look away. But where do I look? To the right? The left? I look down and drain my drink, again. “This is horrible. I can’t believe I have to sit here and do this. How is this my life?”
Julia sips at her drink and glances in Dex’s direction. “Jane, he’s not even paying attention to them. He keeps looking down at his phone.”
I want to look at my phone too. Match 1 messaged me right before I left to come to this rooftop hell, and I haven’t had a chance to answer him.
Nate pours me another glass of sangria and my knees begin to tingle from its effects. I flash a glimpse of Dex again and he’s staring at me so intensely, I feel raw, naked. I’m just going to pretend to look at my phone for the rest of the night, until one of us leaves. I think I’m going to right after I polish off this pitcher. And while I’m pretending to be interested in something amazing on my phone, I might as well just open the Misanthrope app and see what Match 1 is up to. Maybe I’ll even ask him what he thinks of my current eye-fucking situation with my ex.
Jane: Current situation: Sitting at a singles’mixer wearing my pink fuzzy slippers and sloppy stained clothing, getting intensely stared at by my ex.
Match 1: You are at a singles’ mixer in pink fuzzy slippers?
Jane: Yes. It’s my small way of protesting.
Match 1: If I saw a woman in pink fuzzy slippers and worn clothes at a singles’ mixer. That’s the woman I’d want to get to know better.
Jane: Yeah. The waiter also said something like that to me.
Match 1: And your ex is staring at you?
Jane: Vehemently.
Match 1: Is that good or bad?
Jane: Confusing.
Match 1: How so?
Jane: Half of me wants to pounce on him.
