Page 30 of My Merry Mistake
Seven years.
It’s not accurate, exactly, because there were a lot of years in between where I assumed I’d never see her again. But the second our circles intersected at my Halloween party—that was it. Flame reignited.
I just haven’t let myself admit it because she clearly does not feel the same.
But the night she walked into the bar, looking lost and a little beat down—it was like a switch flipped. Like something inside me woke up at the sight of her. She was icy at first, cold even. A statue chiseled from stone. And I couldn’t get enough of her.
She was with a friend who ordered her a drink. They talked for about a half an hour, and I picked up bits and pieces of the conversation—something about an engagement announcement posted on social media and a work crisis. Judging by the small box in front of her, I figured she’d been fired.
And she wasn’t taking it well.
The drink went straight to her head, and her friend didn’t stick around, leaving this beautiful woman a little tipsy and alone.
I knew it wasn’t my job, but I kept an eye on her anyway. She gave me her credit card and opened a tab, then asked if she could stash the box behind the bar. After one more drink, she moved beyond tipsy, and more than one guy in the bar noticed.
Including me. But at that point, my only concern was her safety.
Over the next hour, I watched as this raven-haired beauty danced and laughed and sang with perfect strangers, and after watching her rebuff more than one advance, I stepped in. I felt protective.
The images start to blend together. The stories that poured out of her. The tears. The other guy. The dark hallway. The moment she went up on her tiptoes to try to kiss me, and the absolute pain of having to push her away.
Burke snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Where’d you go?”
“Sorry—” I lean back in my chair and prop my ankle on the opposite knee. “I think I’m just nervous.”
He laughs. “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”
I push a hand through my hair and let out a heavy sigh. “You could say that.”
“Did you end it with the yoga instructor?” Dallas leans over to zip up a pocket on his bag.
“Never really started,” I say. “But yeah, I told her it was nice to hang out a few times, but I’m going to focus on other things. I think she just wanted access to—” I motion to the general vicinity— “all of this.”
“Yeah, I’ve known my share of those.”
There’s a lull, then Burke raises a brow. He takes a drink of his water, watching me. “Just ask.”
“Do you think Poppy and Eloise would help me?” It feels ridiculous to ask this—like I’m getting my friend to find out if a girl likes me. In middle school.
He starts to say something, then stops. “Actually, that’s pretty smart.”
“I just think if anyone is going to be able to help me crack the Raya code, it’s them.”
“Tell you what,” he says. “Poppy loves having people over. We don’t have a game tomorrow, so—we’ll have people over. Game night, or whatever. You’ll come early, talk through your strategy, and we’ll get Raya there.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good, because so far my normal moves don’t work on her,” I say. “That’s why I need help.”
He pushes the cup aside and leans in, like he has something serious to say.
He’s my captain, so I’m programmed to listen when he speaks. Even about personal stuff.
“Look, Finn,” he says. “Raya doesn’t do ‘moves.’ She doesn’t do fake, and she absolutely doesn’t suffer fools.”
“What does that mean?”
He tilts his head, as if trying to find the gentlest way to say it. “She doesn’t waste her time on foolish people.”
“Ouch.”
