Page 29 of Asystole

Goddammit.

Tonight is not about Stone. Nothing is about Stone. Not anymore. Not ever again.

Raul recognizes me as I move toward the bar, and a shy smile creeps across his face.

Online hookups are so strange. I mean, I guess they don’t all end up with strangers getting naked, but I wasn’t shy about where I was hoping to be by the end of the night.

“This seat taken?” I ask lamely, spinning the barstool next to him toward me.

“Only by you,” he replies, holding out his hand. “Raul.”

“Logan,” I reply with a nod, slipping onto the padded leather seat.

Raul’s profile said he was a year older than me, but he doesn’t look it.

“Can I get you a drink?” he offers.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I reply in an effort to show interest in his tastes.

Until a Cosmo lands in front of me.

Raul clinks his glass against mine, and it takes every ounce of social etiquette I can summon to not wince at the god-awful flavor.

The desire to continue this night is as non-existent as my love of Cosmos, but dammit, I need to know that things can still function when I’m with someone other than Chase.

But the longer our small talk goes on, the bleaker the outlook becomes. Raul’s nice enough, but I can’t just magically make chemistry appear, and when he leans in, his breath hot on my neck, the urge to bolt is strong.

Just as I’m about to apologize profusely and go home alone, a group of nine comes strolling through the door. They’re talking at a respectful volume, but the group is so large, they’re hard to miss.

Especially the giant in the back wearing light blue scrubs.

“Logan? Did you hear me?”

I return my attention to Raul and answer honestly.

“I must’ve spaced out for a second. I’m sorry. What did you say?”

He looks apologetic as he asks, “Would you be terribly disappointed if we call it a little early? I’ve forgotten about an article I’m supposed to have on my editor’s desk by eight a.m.”

He’s lying, of course, but he’s being tactful about it, and I’m grateful for the out.

I buy his drink. It’s the least I can do since he put way more effort into tonight than I did, and we shake hands before he quietly exits the restaurant, clearly feeling my lack of enthusiasm.

Flagging down the bartender, I place an order for bourbon on the rocks, needing the burn to eradicate the sweetness of the Cosmo.

As I’m waiting for my order, my eyes wander toward the group now seated at the back of the restaurant. The meeting looks very studious with everyone’s serious expressions and hand gestures. They don’t talk over each other, mostly because the man at the head of the table looks like he wouldn’t allow it, but they all seem eager to get a word in edgewise.

I should go home and try to get some sleep, but I know it’ll just end with me drinking more in an effort to banish Stone’s face from my mind. At least here, I’ll limit myself to this last one since I have to drive home.

Halfway through my new drink, I’m close to doing the dumbest thing imaginable—sending Stone a Merry Christmas and Congratulations text when a large hand clamps down on my shoulder.

“Thought that was you over here,” Chase says, propping one butt-cheek on the vacated bar stool next to me as though he can’t stay long enough to get his full ass on the chair. “Hot date?”

“Hey Chase. Uh, it was a date, but it kind of fizzled out, definitely not something I would classify as hot.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he says sincerely.

“What about you?” I ask, throwing a glance over my shoulder. “Meeting all done?”