This is a hookup bar. All dark mood lighting, annoying, trendy house music in the background and uncomfortable seating. The kind designed to have you standing all night before you take someone home. And now I understand why my very attentive friends brought me here. It’s not our usual go-to place.
“It’s like high school or a frat house in here. And definitely not in a good way. I bet all these guys bathed in Axe body spray, gelled up their hair and left their mother’s basement to come here and find a ‘chick to bang.’” I put air quotes around those words. I have zero interest in being part of that scheme.
“Well . . .” Rina’s voice drifts off, scanning the room desperately. “I know I can find you someone worthy.”
“Don’t waste your brain function. I’m still not interested.” I roll my eyes dramatically and finish off my drink, slamming the glass down on the table with a bit more force than I intend. Oops. Whatever. I’m extremely satisfied with my anti-men status. Because that’s exactly what I am—anti-men—and I’m discovering I’m unrepentant about it. In fact, I think it’s a fantastic way to be when you rack up one loser after another the way I have. Like a form of self-preservation.
I’ve never had a good track record. Even before Matt, I had a knack for picking the wrong guys. My high school boyfriend ended up being gay. I handed him my V-card shortly before he dropped that bomb on me, though he swore I didn’t turn him gay. He promised he was like that prior to the sex. In college, I dated two guys somewhat seriously. The first one cheated on me for months before I found out, and the second one was way more into his video games than he was me. I think he also had a secret cocaine problem because he’d stay up all night gaming like a fiend. I had given up on men for a while—are you seeing a trend here?—and then in my final year of graduate school, Matt came along. Need I say more? So as far as I’m concerned, men can all go screw themselves. Because they sure as hell aren’t gonna screw me!
“You can stop searching now, Rina.” This is getting pathetic. “I have a vibrator. What else does a girl need?” All three pause their search to examine me and I realize I said that out loud. I blush at that, but it’s true, so I just shrug a shoulder and fold my arms defiantly across my chest. “I don’t need a sextervention. If anything, I need to avoid the male species like the plague they are.”
They dismiss me immediately, their cause to find me a “normal” male to talk to outweighing my antagonism. And really, if it’s taking this long to find someone then the pickings must really be slim here. I move to flag down the waitress to order another round when Margot points to the far corner.
“There.” The tenacious little bug is gleaming like she just struck oil in her backyard. “That guy. He’s freaking hot as holy sin and he’s alone. He even looks sad, which means he needs a friend.”
“Or he wants to be left alone to his drinking,” I mumble, wishing I had another drink in my hand so I could focus on something other than my friends obsessively staring at some random creep. Where the hell is that waitress?
“Maybe,” Aria muses thoughtfully as she observes the man across the bar, tapping her bottom lip with her finger. Her hands are covered in splotches of multicolored paint. As is her black shirt, now that I look closer. “Or maybe he’s just had a crappy day. He looks so sad, Halle.” She nods like it’s all coming together for her as she makes frowny puppy dog eyes at me. “So very sad. Go over and see if he wants company. Cheer him up.”
“You’d be doing a public service,” Rina agrees. “Men that good-looking should never be sad.”
I roll my eyes at that. “You think a blowjob would do it, or should I offer him crazy, kinky sex to cheer him up? I still have that domination-for-beginners playset I picked up at Angela’s bachelorette party. Hasn’t even been cracked open.”
Aria tilts her head like she’s actually considering this. “That level of kink might scare him off for the first time. And I wouldn’t give him head unless he goes down on you first.”
Jesus, I’m not drunk enough for this. “Or he’s a total asshole who just fucked his girlfriend’s best friend,” I protest, my voice rising an octave with my objection. I sit up straight, desperate to make my point clear. “Or he’s about to go to prison because he hacks women into tiny bits with a machete before he eats them. Either way, I’m. Not. Interested.”
“God,” Margot snorts, twirling her chestnut hair as she leans back in her chair and levels me with an unimpressed gaze. “Dramatic much? He wouldn’t be out on bail if that were the case. But seriously, that’s like crazy psycho shit, and that guy does not say crazy psycho. He says crave-worthy and yummy and ‘I hand out orgasms like candy on Halloween.’”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Aria says with a knowing smile and a wink.
She swivels her head to check him out again and licks her lips reflexively. I haven’t bothered to peek yet because my back is to him and I hate that I’m curious. All three ladies are eyeing him with unfettered appreciation and obvious lust. Their tastes in men differ tremendously, which indicates this guy probably is hot. I shouldn’t be tempted. I really shouldn’t be. I’m asking for a world of trouble or hurt or legal fees. So why am I finding the idea of a one-nighter with a total stranger growing on me?
I’ve never been that girl before. But maybe they’re right? Maybe a one-nighter with a random guy is just the ticket to wipe out my past of bad choices in men and make a fresh start? I don’t even know if that makes sense since a one-nighter is the antithesis of a smart choice. But my libido is taking over for my brain and now I’m starting to rationalize, possibly even encourage. I need to stop this now.
“He’s gay. Hot men are always gay. Or assholes. Or criminals. Or cheaters. Or just generally suck at life.”
“You’ve had some bad luck, is all. Look at Oliver. He’s good-looking, sweet, loving, and not an asshole. Or a criminal. And he likes you. You could date him.”
Reaching over, I steal Rina’s cocktail. She doesn’t stop me or even seem to register the action. I stare at her with narrowed eyes over the rim of her glass as I slurp down about half of it in one gulp. “I’m not dating your brother, Rina. That’s weird and begging for drama. You and I are best friends.”
She sighs and then I sigh because I’m being a bitch and I don’t mean to be. I like her brother. He is all of those things she just mentioned, minus the liking me part. But if things went bad between us, which they inherently would, it would cost me one of my most important friendships. And that’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Plus, unbeknownst to Rina, Oliver is one of the biggest players in the greater Boston area.
“I’m just saying not all men are bad,” Rina continues, and I shake my head. “We’ll buy your drinks for a month if you go talk to this guy,” she offers hastily, trying to close the deal.
Margot glances over at her with furrowed eyebrows, a bit surprised by that declaration, but she quickly comes around with an indifferent shrug. Aria smiles, liking that idea. Then again, money is not Aria’s problem. “Most definitely,” she agrees. “Go. Let a stranger touch your lady parts. You’re waxed and shaved and looking hot. Let someone take advantage of that.”