1
IVY
Yet another great dating tragedy. Story of my life.
I sat alone at the polished bar, condensation from my untouched rum and coke soaking into the cocktail napkin beneath it. Twenty minutes past eight. The bartender had given me that look three times already, the pitying one that said she knew I'd been stood up before I did.
I was half tempted to vent to her about the woes of men and modern dating.
"Another round?" she asked with a cheery smile.
"No, thanks." I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "I think I'm good."
Good. Right. What a joke. Here I was, in a bar waiting for a ghost.
I should've gone with Elena. She'd invited me to some girls' night thing with Meredith and Sofia involving wine. It probably had fancy cheese I couldn't pronounce, the kind of evening where normal women did normal things. But no, I'd declined because Harry the ghost from the dating app had seemed promising. Great profile. Funny messages. Claimed to work in finance, whatever that meant.
Turned out it meant he was a flake. Stupid fucking men.
I pulled out my phone, scrolling through our last conversation. His final message had been enthusiastic.
Can't wait to see you tonight!
Complete with an emoji that now felt like a personal insult. I'd even worn the black dress that made my ass and tits pop, had spent over an hour on my face and hair, and this steaming pile of shit called a man had left me in the lurch.
Pathetic.
Maybe another fine man here would be interested. Then again, Elena had always said finding your partner in a bar was never a good way. Joke was on her, that's where I found most of them.
The bass line from the bar's speakers thrummed through my chest as I debated my options. Go home to my empty apartment and admit defeat? Order another drink and pretend I'd come here alone on purpose? Text Elena and ask if I could still make the girls' night? She would never say no, but then that'd admit being stood up, and I was the kind of woman who got stood up.
Okay, maybe a few times.
I reached for my purse when I heard it, a voice that made my spine go rigid.
"Ivy? Holy shit, is that you?"
No. Oh hell fucking no.
Surely the universe couldn't be this cruel? I'd been thinking this night couldn't get worse, hadn't I? Apparently, fate took that as a personal challenge.
Perfect.
I turned slowly, already knowing what I'd find. Jordan stood three feet away, that familiar smirk on his face like he'd just won something. He looked the same as the day the prick toldme he was screwing my co-worker. His sandy hair gelled back, button-down shirt open one button too many, cologne applied with a heavy hand like he was masking skid marks from a week ago. The kind of guy who thought he was God's gift and couldn't understand why women didn't agree.
"Fancy seeing you here," he continued, moving closer despite the foul look I was sure I had plastered on my face. "You look good, babe."
"Don't call me that." I kept my voice flat and uninterested. "And I'm waiting for someone."
A lie, but he didn't need to know that.
"Come on, don't be like that." He slid onto the stool beside me, too close. "I've been thinking about you. About us."
"There is no us." I shifted away, creating distance and considering calling Elena. "There hasn't been for five years."
How on earth was it my luck thatthisprick was inthisbar onthisnight? Some cosmic force was laughing hard at me.
"I know, I know. I messed up." He reached for my hand, and I snatched it away. I could've sworn he almost smirked at that. "But I've changed, Ivy. I'm different now. Better."
