Page 2 of The Heartbreak List

“That was before my girlfriend showed up.” He doesn’t miss a beat as he reaches out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Sorry I kept you waiting, honey boo.”

I roll my eyes at the awful pet name. Does he really think the apology will work, considering, if I were his girlfriend, he clearly thinks I won’t care that he was screwing some random?

“Oh my God.” She shoves him to the side so she can get by and looks down her nose at me. “You’re welcome to him. A big dick isn’t everything. Especially when he doesn’t know how to use it.”

He grins at me, all white teeth, as she totters away on tall black stilettos. “I have a big dick, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.” I can barely suppress a laugh as the girl spins around and gives him two middle fingers before moving out of sight.

“I’m actually very skilled with it.” He leans toward me like we’re friends. In cahoots.

“I’m not interested in your dick. Imagined or real.” I put my hand up to block his face when he gets too close. I’m not creeped out by him. He seems harmless enough. Truly a friendly drunk, even if he is technically loitering in the women’s bathroom. The need to pee has kicked back in and I’m kinda desperate at this point. “Your fly is undone.”

“Oh, will you look at that?” He glances down. Adjusting his junk, he pulls the zipper up and latches the button. “I must have been distracted. Don’t know what could possibly have stolen my attention. But she must have been fucking pretty.”

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” He’s no Zac Efron. And while he probably doesn’t need to be since he’s balls-to-the-wall gorgeous, and genetics kicked it up a notch with those eyes, he’s no Gray either. He’s just some fuckboy with a few too many drinks under his belt and a more than healthy dose of ego that happens to be making me laugh, and I have better waiting for me. A man who is fully committed to our shared future.

“Yeah. Is it working?”

Not even a little. “I have a fiancé.”

“Aw shit.” He grins wider. “Of course you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I finally just go for it and squeeze between him and the door. It’s either that or let pee trickle down my leg.

“You look like a bride.” He shakes his head as I choose a cubicle. “This is your bachelorette party?”

Slipping inside, I shimmy my panties down my legs before I sit. The relief is instant. “Yeah.”

“When are you getting married?”

“A few months. My best friend is moving to the UK, so we decided to throw the bachelorette party sooner rather than later.” Are we really still having a conversation while I’m peeing?

“No strippers?”

“Unless I count you. With your lack of shirt.” I smile sweet as pie even though he can’t see me while I fix up my panties and flush.

He laughs. “Not a stripper. Though some nights I cut it mighty close. You should come see me, when you’re not being a well-behaved bride-to-be. Bring your fiancé. Not here. I work at a different club, it’s called Line ‘Em Up. Come on a Friday.”

“I don’t think so.” I move to the sink to wash my hands. There’s an empty bottle of Jameson on the counter and a couple of small plastic bags with a lime green devil logo on them. Perhaps it’s not only alcohol that has him so chatty. “It’s not really our scene.”

“You’re right. Don’t bring him.” He stretches his arm out to block my path out of the bathroom. “He’ll lose his shit when I dance with you. Then I’ll have to stop him from hitting me while you burst into tears. After which you’ll break up with him, because you’re so attracted to me, and then I’ll be forced to let you down hard because I’m not that guy. It’ll be way too messy.”

“Confident much?” I tip my head back and get lost. It’s not his piercing stare that makes my skin tingle. It’s not attraction that has my breath catching. And it’s not his scent either. Perhaps it’s this headache that is growing louder. “You don’t truly believe that I would show up, do you?”

He licks his lips. “Come on. Live a little.”

“I live.” I give him my best glare. He doesn’t need to hear that this is the first time I’ve been out dancing or to see a band or to have a drink in the three years I’ve been legal. I was too busy concentrating on my studies and my career. Getting engaged. Following the plan.

“Hmm.” He makes an amused sound in his throat. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” I jut out my chin to push my point.

“And yet you have been talking to me for the past five minutes. Even though you can’t decide whether you like me, or you’re just intrigued. Meanwhile, I bet you have friends waiting on you.”

“That’s not—” But I’m still standing here, talking to him. Why? What am I getting out of this? A thrill? “We’re just talking.”

“Is that what you call it? Do you talk to strangers in public toilets often, hmm?” He reaches out and touches my chin before dropping his hand back to his side. “If you ask me, you look bored.”

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