Page 90 of Not That Impossible

Of course.

Because I wasn’t his type.

Ray was.

Of course.

“Oh, hell no,” Adam said, lunging out of his seat and stalking over.

Wow, was I an idiot. And a glutton for punishment. And a fucking idiot. I threw back the rest of my mineral water and stood up.

“See you later, guys,” I said to anyone who was listening—most of them were watching Adam crash Liam and Ray’s date—and walked out.

I wasn’t Liam’s type.

I didn’t really remember getting home and going to bed, which in retrospect was alarming. I’d managed to walk home, let myself in the house, get up stairs and into bed, all without any conscious thought.

When Jasper got married to his ex-wife, Verity, I’d been devastated. I’d also been a hormone-addled eighteen-year-old with a romantic streak a mile wide.

This hit differently.

Now, I was a man. A full-grown adult who’d had his fair share of knocks and rejections by this point. I’d learned how to take a hit. I’d learned how to get back up.

I always got back up.

So that’s what I did the next morning.

Yes, I felt like I’d been run over by the Truck of Broken Dreams, but what the hell? I was still standing. Nothing new.

Seriously, nothing new. I was right back where I was two months ago, after Liam had told me I was a hook-up. It hadn’t sunk it back then. It had sunk in now. All the way down to the bone.

I was surprisingly okay with it. I went through my morning routine. I ran. I journaled. I deleted the caveman fanfic, and brainstormed four decent article ideas. Okay, two. I went to work. I came back.

I did the same again the next day, and the next.

It didn’t hurt anymore. It wasn’t even a big deal this time. Nothing had happened. I just saw him out on a date with the man everyone wanted, because Ray was everyone’s type.

I got on with my life.

My obsession with Liam Nash was officially over.

For real this time.

20

Istared at my enemy, my nemesis, the Lex Luthor to my Clark Kent: the cursor.

Blink on, villain, I thought. I will defeat you in the end.

My victory is inevitable.

It was Thursday morning and I was all set up at my desk in my writing studio.

Giant bottle of water? Check.

Soft crackling fire and rain sounds playing on my white noise app? Check.

Fresh, clean document? Check.

---