“Thanks, babe.” I high-five Lena, then return my attention to the next guy in my inbox. Even without clicking into the conversation, I can see the head of a penis staring at me. “Hard pass.”
Lena laughs. “Ruthless. Was it the bush?”
“Nah, I don’t mind a little hair, but common decency is a strict requirement.”
She moves on to the next guy. “How about Dean? He wants to know if you’re interested in getting drinks this week?”
Frowning, I purse my lips. “Is ‘drinks’ code for sex? I’m so out of touch with the dating scene.”
Lena winks. “Not if you say no. Is that a yes to Dean?”
I gesture at the screen. “Gimme.”
Dean is average height, white, and built like a tank. His profile displays a number of photos of him flexing his biceps.
“Nope,” I say. “Too self-centered.”
My phone buzzes on the cushion beside us and I reach for it, checking the caller ID. It’s Gabe. I reject the call. My anger from the weekend has faded, but I’m still not ready to talk to him.
“You know, you should probably get that,” Lena says, reading the name over my shoulder. “He’s just going to keep calling. Jase says he’s a nightmare at the gym, and if you keep putting him off, he’ll get all broody and sulky.”
“Gabe?” I snort. “Could he get any broodier?”
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Men are so damn annoying when they’re pouty.”
“True, that.” The phone rings again, and I almost answer. Then I remember how it felt to sit by myself at the diner, lonely and pitiful. “Screw him. If he wants to see me, he can turn up next time we make plans.”
“Fair call.”
Dismissing the phone, I take over the computer controls and find a guy who looks promising. “Nathan,” I say to myself. “You just scored yourself a date.”
My phone vibrates with a text. I’d happily delete it straight away—although I’d feel guilty for it later—but Lena reads it aloud before I have the chance.
“Gabe wants to know if he can come over.”
“Tell him I’m busy with you.”
She props her hands on her hips. “You know, I’m all for this independence and dating thing, but avoidance isn’t my style. If you want to blow him off, you can do it yourself.”
“Fine.” Taking the phone, I do just that. Then I shut it off and do my best to put my hot MMA-fighting best friend to the back of my mind.
“Areyou sure it’s not too much?” I ask Hayley, one of the nurses I work with, as I adjust the belt around my waist. I’ve ditched my scrubs for a purple dress with a flirty skirt that hits mid-thigh, because no one thinks scrubs are sexy—at least, not on women.
Hayley puts her hands on my shoulders and directs me to the mirror. “Syd, you look gorgeous. The guy is going to eat his tongue when he sees you.”
I wince. “That sounds painful.”
Laughing, she releases me. “Not literally. Although I’m sure you’d know how to help him if he did.” She hands me a tube of lipstick and I check the color. It’s deep maroon, not a choice I’d typically make, but I swipe it over my lips and can’t help but be impressed by the effect.
“Gorgeous,” she repeats. “Now go find your date, and get lucky on behalf of all of us who work too many hours to have a life.”
With a parting smile, I leave the changing room and head for the cafeteria, where I’m meeting Jordan for lunch. Unfortunately, I need to be nearby during my break in case any emergencies arise, but hopefully he’ll understand, and the cafeteria food really isn’t that bad. Scanning the room, I spot him in a far corner, seated at one of the tables that’s often abandoned. He looks just like he did in his photographs. Hot.Reallyhot.
Then why aren’t I more excited to see him?
He looks up and gives me the blinding smile I recognize from the internet.
Do I flutter? No. No, I do not.
