Page 27 of Miss Matched

Guys nights used to feel like an escape. But every time I part ways with them recently, the hole inside me widens.

“I’m happy for them,” I tell her, not ready to acknowledge the rest just yet.

“Of course, that’s not what—”

“I know,” I stop her.

It isn’t commitment in general I’m opposed to. If my friends are happy being tethered down, then more power to them. But I’m well aware I’m not built for that kind of thing. The women I date get lonely when I can’t commit my time, or they get jealous, taking it out on the people around me. One girlfriend went as far as to stalk Tiffany, who she swore I was having an affair with. It ended in a restraining order from Tiffany and her girlfriend and an uncomfortable few weeks at the office. But what scared me is that it had potential to be much worse.

“It’s hard sometimes,” I admit. “Them settling down points out that I’m alone. By choice, but still.” I rake my fingers through my hair and look out at the lights of the city so I don’t have to face Kennedy’s inquisitive eyes.

“I never thought I was missing out on anything by choosing this life. And yes, maybe Mark and Ryan getting married makes me question that—just a little. You know?”

Instead of taking more notes, she sets down her stack of papers and pen and leans the slightest bit closer. Her hand reaches out like she considers holding mine, but she silently places it on the cushion beside me instead.

“My closest friends are single,” she tells me. “Luce will probably never settle down, but for Monica it’s only a matter of time. And as happy as I’ll be for her when that happens, it still makes me feel a little lonely.”

I nod. “And what about you, will you ever settle down?”

The words hang between us. I’m not sure what answer I want to hear.

She shrugs one shoulder. “Sometimes I think, being in this business, I’ve seen too much. Kind of takes the sparkle out of it. I mean, look at this.” She points to the stack of papers beside her. “Rigorous screening processes and forced interaction? It’s not exactly romantic.”

“And that’s what you want? Romance?”

“Maybe.” She looks down at her hands and picks at a fingernail. “I deal with real all day. What’s fact, what makes two people compatible, what makes sense. It might work, but it’s not romance.”

She shakes her head, and a few more tendrils come loose from her bun. I wish I could reach over and brush them back. Lean in as her lips part and the softest breath escapes. Take her with my mouth and find out if the darkness I sense in her is where I’m meant to be hiding.

These are dangerous thoughts I should not be thinking.

I need to get out of this room, get some distance.

“Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand off the couch and pulling her to her feet.

She reaches for her stack of papers, but I tug her arm to stop her.

“But we’re not done,” she says.

“Leave ’em. It’s not like you’re reading off any of the questions anyway. Besides, you can still ask whatever it is you planned; I just think we need a change of scenery, don’t you?”

An eyebrow hitches. “What did you have in mind?”

“Bowling,” I say.

“Bowling?” The smile that crosses her cheeks is tempting as hell, and I consider ditching my plan altogether to take her right here on this couch.

Fuck, I can barely keep it together around her.

“Bowling,” she repeats again, and the internal struggle fights in her eyes. “Okay, but I’m asking my questions. This is still business.”

“Of course.” I wink. “Now let’s have a little fun.”

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