Page 1 of The Heartbreak List

Chapter One

Indy

“Ican’tbelieveyou’regetting married in three months,” my cousin America screams over the loud music playing in the club where we’re celebrating my bachelorette night. “I hate that I’m not going to be here to help you organize everything.”

I smile with the straw of my drink between my lips as I sip some incredibly alcoholic cocktail. We graduated college a week ago and all the pieces are falling into place. I landed my dream job and set a date with Gray for our wedding. America is heading to Cambridge. “You have a chance to study under the top linguistics professor in the UK. You have to go. Besides, you organized this party. And you’ll be back the week of the wedding.”

“Of course I will.” She grabs my hand and bounces up and down in her pink heels. “I’m your best friend and maid of honor. You literally can’t get married without me.”

“Isn’t it the groom I can’t get married without?” I lift my hand to stare at the ring on my finger. It’s a round cut solitaire on a plain gold band. Understated. Sensible. And exactly what I told Gray I wanted when we first started planning our future.

“As if Gray is going anywhere.” America touches the gold hoop in her earlobe and turns her attention to our friends on the dance floor. They’re easy to spot since they are all wearing pink. She tucks her arm into mine. “Your perfect fiancé will become your perfect husband and you’ll both go on to live your perfect life and have perfect little babies.”

“That’s the plan.” Has been for as long as I can remember. Although my perfect husband-to-be wasn’t always Grayson Ford.

It used to be Zac Efron. Actually, I still crush on Zac Efron. He’s the kind of infatuation that gets better with age. But Gray has been my number one since I was fifteen-and-a-half, even though my brother’s best friend didn’t know about my crush on him until I was seventeen, and then waited until after my eighteenth birthday to ask me out on our first date.

“We should join the others.” America starts to tug me toward the dance floor. “Let loose. You only celebrate being a bride once.”

“I kind of need to pee.” I put down my empty glass on the first table we pass then drag my arm free. The headache that I’ve been trying to shake all day is kicking it up a notch. I could do with a breather. “I’ll be back in a few.”

“If you’re not I’ll come looking for you.” She continues toward the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd until all I can see is the back of her bouncing mop of corkscrew curls.

I veer off from the main crowd and into the hallway where the bathrooms are located. I massage my temples to ease the throbbing as I locate the right door.

It opens before I can put a hand on it and two girls come racing out in a fit of giggles.

“You might want to wait.” One of them tells me over her shoulder before they round the corner.

I jiggle; the alcohol has gone straight through me, and I really need to pee. Maybe someone left the bathroom a mess and they’re waiting for one of the employees to clean it up. It wouldn’t be the first time some girl puked in a club stall after one too many.

Oh well, I really can’t wait. I’m just going to have to hold my breath while I’m in there. Inhaling all the way to my toes, I push the door open an inch to check out what I’m dealing with.

The door moves much further than the inch I planned, and I’m left with my arm out and my hand angled with my fingers up, almost touching the man that fills the empty space. He’s tall. Broad across the shoulders, tapering down into cheese grater abs that are… on full display. There are several bruises scattered on his torso. They range from fresh red to dark purple to faded yellow.

A leather jacket wears him well. It drapes like it was made to be worn by a rockstar but ended up on a god. One of war, based on the bruises. Or mischief, by the way his lips curl up. But his smirk has nothing on those eyes.

His eyes are… unique. I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like his. Except, perhaps on television. And even then… it would have nothing on the way this guy’s eyes draw me in. One blue like the sky, the other a yin and yang swirl of chocolate and sapphire.

They’re friendly. A little too friendly as his gaze falls over my all-white outfit and pink sash in a way that reminds me of one of those perfume commercials where luxurious silk glides over the woman’s skin.

He has thick stubble on his jaw and upper lip like he hasn’t bothered to shave for a few days, and dark brown, almost black hair falls in waves that almost meet his shoulders. I’m not really into long hair on men, but the strands are so glossy and look so soft that I want to touch it to see if it is that silky. Still, I stumble back to those eyes. Those orbs that must hook many women. Are they natural or—

“You should probably consider breathing at some point.” He smiles wider.

His words infiltrate my head, which is fuzzy, from the alcohol and holding my breath for so long. I let out the oxygen I’d been containing, which is more like ninety-eight percent carbon dioxide at this point, and grow lightheaded.

I breathe in the pungent scent of musk and sweat.

A woman appears behind him. Her makeup is on point, and she fluffs her red hair like she wants it to look messy on purpose, so she’s probably hiding how it got mussed in the first place. And her tiny black dress is still askew. She pushes it down her hips and thighs until it sits right.

They were having sex in the bathroom. That’s what those girls were talking about. Am I surprised? Hardly. Am I curious about what it would be like to be that… spontaneous? Again, no. Gray and I aren’t PDA type people. At least not to this degree.

“Wanna come dance?” The girl touches his broad shoulder.

His gaze is still glued to me. “No.”

“Seriously?” She opens her purse and takes out a piece of gum that she pops in her mouth. “I thought you said we’d dance.”

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