Page 2 of Until We Meet Again

It's not like I haven't been dating since I've been in college. I have plenty, but none of the guys felt like the right fit for me. There's always something missing—something holding me back from moving forward—and I've been waiting for a deeper connection with someone.

I want someone who makes me crave them so badly that their 'hello' sounds like 'come here'. To consume me in every possible way. Someone who leaves me breathless. I want fire, desire, and every other emotion that takes over you and makes you forget who you are.

Is what I'm asking for really too much? Because we only have one shot at this, and I intend to be picky about the people I choose to spend this life with.

My schedule doesn't help. In fact, it's a nightmare—classes, assignments, and my job at the library leave me hardly any time for myself, let alone to try and meet someone new.

However, there are times when I'm my own worst enemy. There are a million other things I'd rather do than spend time with some of these douchebags I meet—the ones who can't walk past a mirror without checking themselves out or who try to slip a hand down your pants after thinking one kiss is enough to get you wet.

Those guys are currently on the list of people to avoid.

I recently went out with Kelvin, a guy from one of my classes. He’s tall with dirty blond hair and ocean-blue eyes and the most adorable guy I’ve ever met, but despite having a few things in common, I just didn't feel that spark. Could I take him home to meet my parents? Yes. But did I want to rip his clothes off? Unfortunately, no.

That was nearly four months ago, and while I'm fine being single, I'm restless.

I give up on reading and set aside my book. I pick up my phone and start scrolling through my apps, eventually opening a dating app I haven't used in weeks.

I have three new DMs, and when I open the first one, I find myself faced with a close-up and very graphic image of a limp dick staring back at me.

What is wrong with these men?

As I scroll down beneath the picture, I find a message attached to it.

Make it hard for me.

I swear I just threw up in my mouth a little.

I quickly press the delete button and move on to the next message, which is almost as bad as the first one.

I usually go for a 10, but I enjoy a challenge.

Reluctantly, I open the third message without any expectations, but once I start reading, I want to know more.

You had me when I saw that you loved to read. If you ever want to talk about books or the weather, hit me up or whatever the cool kids say. P.S. I don't send dick pics.

As I read his message, a smile spreads across my face, and I immediately click on his profile to learn more about him.

Zane, thirty-three, fucking hot, and an expert on bourbon and books.

The eleven-year age gap could be an issue, but he doesn't seem to mind since he took the time to read my bio and reach out to me.

I take a moment to think about it as I hover my fingers over the phone, but ultimately, I decide to reply to his message.

T: You had me when I saw that you're a book expert, and don't worry, I don't send dick pics either.

Here's to hoping older guys have more to offer.

Chapter 2

Zane

Death changes everything. Time changes nothing.

My sister was the most important person in my life, and I will never love another to the point that their absence practically destroys me again.

Fifteen long months have passed since the day Kimberley closed her eyes for the final time, and yet, the pain of that day continues to haunt me. One minute, her heart was still beating as I held her hand in mine, and the next, she was gone, just like that, leaving my soul shattered.

She was the last person who deserved her time on this earth to be shortened, and for that reason alone, I'm fucking angry. The day that anger moved into my heart, it built impenetrable walls and completely cut itself off.

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