Anything to stop me from thinking about that tall, English prick with dark eyes and a devilish smile.
Nothing worked.
Fuck you, Eric.
My phone sat on the coffee table, screen dark but somehow screaming at me. Taunting me.
I didn't have his number anymore, I had no way of contacting him. Had I already tried to search him up on social media? Maybe. But it had been pointless. The bastard was a ghost.
"Why are you here now?" I muttered as I scrolled through a streaming platform, praying something would jump out. My gaze moved to my phone again.
Fuck it.
I grabbed it before I could think better of it, pulling up the dating app I'd installed months ago in a moment of wine-fueleddetermination. The same app that had brought me my recent spectacular failure of a date before Eric showed up and?—
No. Not thinking about him.
I scrolled through the profiles, my thumb moving automatically. Men posing with fish. Men in sunglasses at every angle. Men with bathroom mirror selfies that made me question natural selection.
Then I stopped.
Cameron. Twenty-eight. Jawline sharp enough to cut glass, body that suggested he lived at the gym. The kind of pretty that knew it, that weaponized it. His bio was minimal, just a fire emoji and "here for a good time."
Perfect. A fuckboy was the best way to get my mind off Eric. And maybe I could snag a nice meal and fun from it.
I swiped right. The match notification came immediately.
That desperate, are you?a voice whispered in my head. It sounded uncomfortably like Eric's.
I shoved the thought away and started typing before I could talk myself out of it. Eric's stupid little English voice could fuck right off back to where he came. Prick.
Want to get dinner?
Cameron's response came fast.
I can think of better ways to work up an appetite
Of course he could. I rolled my eyes.
This is what I wanted though. A distraction. Maybe some validation too. Sue me.
Dinner first. Somewhere nice. Then we'll see about dessert.
Deal. Frank's Pizza on 3rd Ave at 8?
Pizza. Of course he was offering a low-grade dinner, something he wouldn't have to overspend on to get laid.
Whatever, I knew the place. The food was good, and it reminded me of the small place back in my hometown, so there was that too.
Frank's was probably one I'd class as being middle ground. Not too flashy, but not the equivalent of McDonald’s.
I glanced at the clock. Six-thirty. Enough time to make myself look like I hadn't spent the afternoon drinking whiskey and overthinking my life choices.
See you there.
I arrived at Frank's Pizza fifteen minutes late on purpose, wearing a black dress that hugged everything worth hugging and heels that made my legs look endless. My makeup was flawless but natural, and I had my hair up in a stylish bun. I didn't want to look too good for this place, but I wanted to still feel like I'd put effort in.
Cameron was already at the booth, and he didn't disappoint in person. That jawline was even more devastating up close, and he knew it from the way he smiled when he saw me. Predatory. Appreciative.
