I sit up in bed and stare at my black TV screen, running through all the thoughts in my mind. I really am doing fine, good even. It’s been six weeks, and I’ll admit the first three or four were hell. I think I showered twice, survived on a coffee-only diet, and didn’t leave my apartment. But I finished the next round of edits for my novel and sent it off. I also managed not to give in whenever River reached out to me, which was plenty. Not once did I buckle.
I’ve been working out in the apartment gym twice a day for the past two weeks, primarily focusing on my glutes and my endurance. Watching fitness influencers on YouTube has become a hobby of mine, something to distract me from my life.
Without fail, River showed up once a week—every Sunday—to bring me a bagel from the bakery we used to go to together. I always got the bacon chive with plain cream cheese, and he’s brought me one every Sunday up until this past one, always leaving it right outside my apartment door. And I always threw it straight into the trash, aside from the one that Hailee managed to sneak away and eat. She had no qualms about eating a perfectly good bagel.
He stopped bringing them, though. I guess he’s finally getting the hint, and maybe getting over me too. Good.
Something inside me clicked around week four. Maybe it was seeing Hailee with Oliver and how close they’d grown in their short time of knowing each other. How he looked at her when I third-wheeled, like she was the only woman in the room. I realized I wanted that. I thought River was that person for me, but he proved me wrong.
Once I noticed that sitting around did nothing for my personal life, I decided I was done moping. I got back on the dating app because hell, I needed a good laugh. And a good laugh I got. Plenty, in fact.
I met an iron worker with a choking fetish, a man whose kink was wearing diapers and being a full-grown man-baby, and a seventy-year-old who wanted to pay my rent in exchange for sending him feet pictures. It was going well.
That’s when Hailee and Oliver decided to take it into their own hands and set me up with a friend of Oliver’s. The guy’s a transplant Australian like Oliver, supposedly single with no baggage—HAH, I’ll believe it when I see it—and hot as fuck. I’m not a fan of blind dates but honestly, what do I have to lose?
Sadly, not much.
“Ava!” Hailee singsong screams at me in my own apartment. “Get your ass moving!”
This is unusual for us. I’m typically the one hurrying her along. So, I throw back my covers, determined to have a good attitude about the Aussie dude, and do as Hailee says. I get my ass moving.
Tight black dress, dark red lipstick with a gloss on top, black strappy heels, hair long and flowing—check, check, check, check. I feel hot, and ready for whatever tonight might bring.
When Hailee and I walk into the dueling piano bar, we turn heads. She’s gorgeous, I’m dressed to the fucking tens, and we’re on a mission to meet our men.
Hailee spots Oliver before I do. The bar is dark, with only the piano stage lit up. The two beautiful baby grand pianos—one pearl white, the other black—sit facing each other, waiting for the competition to start. The crowd sits in a dark and hushed silence, waiting patiently for the show to begin. As we get closer to the table, I can see past Oliver to my date, and Hailee was not lying. The man is gorgeous.
My eyes are immediately drawn to his dirty blond hair. I’ve always been drawn to dark hair, so this would be a first for me, but there’s something about having your heart broken by your ideal man that leads you to question what you’ve always wanted before.
His eyes are dark, at least in this lighting. The dim, seductive lighting casts mysterious shadows over his face. He smiles in the dark and it’s infectious. I’m taken aback, hit by the blinding whiteness that radiates from his mouth. Is he a fucking Australian male model? I’m immediately self-conscious. I know I look good, but do I look that good?
“I’m Christopher. Chris for short. Oliver’s friend from back home.” He pauses. “It’s great to meet you, Ava.”
He extends his hand and I take it. When he helps me into my seat, I feel giddy. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say.
Hailee and Oliver exchange a playful look and smile, watching the two of us like proud parents of an arranged marriage. “Told you she was hot!” Hailee says.
I roll my eyes at her, feeling my face warm.
“You were right, Hailee,” Chris says to her, not taking his eyes off me.
I play with my necklace nervously, and the piano players start in to the tune of A Whole New World—how fitting.
Two hours later, we’ve moved from the upscale piano bar to a club and I’m rubbing my ass against Chris’s dick on the dancefloor, four Tito and lemonades deep, sandwiched between him and Hailee, with Oliver behind her. I glance to my left and think I see River. I shake my head and he’s gone. My eyes must be playing tricks on me, seeing the ghost of fuckups past.
I turn around to face Chris—determined to push the image of River out of my mind—before taking his face in my hands and aggressively kissing him. He kisses me back with full force, tangling his fingers through my hair and pushing his tongue past my lips and into my mouth.
“I gotta pee!” Hailee yells over the music and drags me with her as the guys retreat back to the table.
I gaze into the mirror, eyes blurry, and fix my hair. “Will you please do something about my lipstick?” I ask Hailee as she comes out of her stall.
She washes her hands and when she’s done, she says, “Yeah, take this,” then hands me a tissue. “Wipe it all off and we’ll start over.” She’s in the stall, and I’m wiping the color from my lips as she says, “So is he hot enough to give it up or what? He’s so nice!”
“Hailee!” I say. “It isn’t always just about sex, you know.” I roll my eyes at her. “But you’re right. The Australian can get it.” Laughing, I open the door. My laugh catches in my throat when I actually see River, arms folded over his chest, standing right in front of me.
“What the hell, Ava?” he asks, his eyes dark and narrowed.
Hailee peeks around me, making an audible gasp. “River. Hi.”
With his eyes trained on me, he says a curt hello to her and she scurries back to the table. “We need to talk,” he says to me.
“What are you doing here, River? Are you following me or something? Jesus Christ,” I scoff, running my fingers down the center of my hair and closing my eyes for a moment.
“I saw on Facebook that you were here, so I decided to come find you. You’ve been dodging my calls for weeks.” He’s yelling, not at me but to me, over the music. He gently grabs ahold of my arm, saying, “Come with me,” and I follow.
Once we’re out on the street, my dress sticks to me almost immediately thanks to the hot summer air.
River gives me a look up and down. “You’re trying to impress that guy in there, clearly.” Clearly. “Nice little show of you, tongue-fucking that dude.”
“How long have you been watching me?” I ask, not wanting to know the answer, but needing to.
“I’ve watched long enough to see his dick protruding through his pants and rubbing against your ass. So, that was fun.” He’s looking at me like I’m doing something wrong and it pisses me off.