Chapter 9

Melany

TODAY’S OUTFIT WAS a cream-colored pencil skirt that I paired with a silky red blouse and matching heels. The top clung to my breasts and had a loose boatneck collar with a little sash that tied into a bow on my right shoulder. At first I wasn’t sure about my choice of attire—the skirt and top hugged my body everywhere—but by the time I slid my feet into the ruby suede pumps, I had to admit I looked kind of pretty.

I’d woken up earlier that morning with a renewed sense of hope and was scrolling through a website on my phone that showed apartment listings when I walked into the bodega for my morning coffee. And yes, I was quickly learning to multitask while wearing heels. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t so hard to walk in them after all.

“Well, well, well. Look at you.”

I glanced up from my phone to Stanley standing behind the counter and grinned. “Morning, Stanley.”

“Morning to you, missy. Don’t you just take an old man’s breath away? You look beautiful, my dear.”

I felt a blush begin to creep up my neck, but forced myself to maintain eye contact. It was still a work in progress, but I was determined not to shy away from praise any longer. “Thank you. Can I get the usual, please?”

“Coming right up.” He pulled a paper coffee cup from the stack behind the counter and proceeded to make my coffee. I was reaching into my purse for my wallet as he finished up, prepared to pay, when a masculine voice spoke up.

“I’ve got that.” A hand shot out from behind me and placed a few bills on the counter. “Coffee’s on me.”

I chanced a peek over my shoulder to find an unknown, relatively handsome man grinning down at me. “Uh… thanks?”

His grin morphed into a full-fledged smile. “You’re quite welcome. I’m Bryan.”

I took his outstretched hand and gave it a tentative shake before reaching for my coffee cup. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, so I figured gripping the warm paper cup tightly in my fingers was as good an idea as any.

“Melany. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he continued to stare until the silence between us became uncomfortable. I shot a look at Stanley to see him smirking.

“Um… well, thanks… again. For the coffee.” I lifted the cup in indication and took a step backward, preparing for my exit.

“Hey, wait!” Bryan called, just as I pivoted and reached for the door handle. One second he was standing near the counter and the next he was a foot away. “Look,” he started, his demeanor suddenly shifting from outgoing to uncertain, “I know this probably seems a little forward, but… would you maybe like to have dinner with me?”

My mouth dropped open as my eyes widened. “You mean… like a date?”

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, smiling a shy smile. “Yes, a date. That is, if you’re single. I probably should have asked about that beforehand, huh?” he said, chuckling.

“I’m not,” I spat out. It wasn’t until his face fell a bit that I realized what I’d just said. “I mean I am! I’m not seeing anyone is what I meant to say. I am single.” God, kill me now. For the first time in recollection, a cute guy was asking me out, and two seconds in, I was already screwing it up.

It was your typical face-palm moment. Fortunately, my weirdness didn’t seem to deter him, because his smile returned. “Great. Then how about we exchange numbers? I can call you to set something up.”

“Oh… uh… yeah.” I fiddled with my purse in search of my phone, that familiar flush of embarrassment returning to my cheeks. “Sure.”

I handed him my phone and turned my focus back to the sidewalk as he programmed his number in, unable to meet his eyes despite my effort. This was just too foreign of a situation for me.

A second later, his phone started to ring. My own came into my line of vision, forcing me to look up at Bryan’s cheerful face. “I called myself from your phone. Now we have each other’s numbers.”

I stuffed my cell back into my purse and answered, “A-all right.”

Putting his hands back into his pockets, he took a step back, that grin still plastered on his face. “So, I’ll call you?” Worried I’d stumble over my words and look like an even bigger idiot, I chose to nod instead of speak. “Have a good day, Melany.”

“Y-you too.” He turned on his heels and headed in the opposite direction, allowing me to finally take a full breath once he disappeared around the corner.

Holy shit, someone asked me on a date.

Holy shit! Someone just asked me on a date!

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more, skip along the sidewalk and swing around a light pole Gene Kelly style, or throw up. Seeing as I was in public, I couldn’t really do either of those things, so I retrieved my phone and shot off a quick text to the only person I knew would understand the magnitude of what just happened

Me: OMG!!!!!!!!!! I was just asked out on a date!!!!!!!!!!

As I waited for Chance to reply, I made my way toward the train station. The whole way, my feet felt like they were floating on air.

Chance

Melany: OMG!!!!!!!!!! I was just asked out on a date!!!!!!!!!

The hand holding my toothbrush paused, suspended in the air as my mouth hung open. Clearly, reading my early morning texts while brushing my teeth was a bad idea, because I was currently standing in my towel, toothpaste foam dripping from my mouth onto the bathroom counter, while an unexpected—and totally unpleasant—swell of foreboding clogged my throat so badly I almost choked on it.

He asked her out.

That fucker had asked her out!

And why did I suddenly feel sick at the idea? We were just friends; I was helping her out. For Christ’s sake, the sole purpose of this little ruse was getting that douchebag to notice her. So why did I hate the idea of him making a move?

Dropping the toothbrush into the sink, I quickly rinsed and spit so I could give my full attention to my phone.

Me: Logan asked you out?

I needed to get my shit together. Melany wasn’t mine, and I told myself after what went down with Devon that I wasn’t going to put myself out there again for a woman hung up on another man. But reminding myself of that little fact didn’t make me feel any fucking better.

Melany: Not Logan. Some guy at the bodega where I get my coffee in the mornings.

Again, my body’s reaction was completely unexpected. My shoulders slumped and I sighed in relief. Sure, some asshole—probably completely unworthy of her—asked her out. At least it wasn’t Logan.

With my phone still clutched in my hand, I typed out a quick response.

Me: What did you say?

Melany: I didn’t really say anything. I got all flustered and stopped making sense, but we exchanged numbers. I’ll probably ignore it and throw up if he ever calls.

My laughter echoed off the tiles. Even when she was being ridiculous, she was still funny as hell.

Me: Did you like the guy?

Melany: He was cute.

“Fuck,” I breathed at her response, dropping my hands to the cool marble countertop to support my weight. Something was becoming quite clear—almost disturbingly so. I was starting to really like Melany Fitzgerald.

It wasn’t about looks. To me she was the whole package. She was beautiful, smart, funny. She was the first woman to make me laugh… really laugh in a long, long time. The more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to know her.

But she wanted someone else.

The realization hit me like a lead pipe to the gut. It was happening again. I was growing attached to a woman who had feelings for another man. Only this time it felt different.

My phone pinged, pulling me from my reverie. I lifted it and began to read, my back straightening with each typed word.

Melany: There weren’t any butterflies or fireworks or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. He was just some guy.

That most definitely wasn’t a glowing recommendation. From her lukewarm response to my question, I began to realize that there was no way this guy was a potential threat. Then an idea began formulating in my head.

Me: I think you should go.

Now, I know what you’re thinking… why would I suggest she go on a date with another man when I’d had such a visceral negative reaction to her initial text.

The answer was simple. She’d asked me to help her become more confident, and I was damn well determined to do it. Also, I’d make sure I was there the entire time in an attempt to control the situation. If I was keeping a diligent eye on the situation, then maybe, just maybe, I could sway the outcome in the direction that would benefit me.

I was going to have to rethink my strategy when it came to that dickhead at her office, but this was a battle I felt I could win. And bonus: I was still upholding my promise to help her.

Melany: Really??

Me: Don’t worry, I’ll have your back. Trust me.

Melany: *rolls eyes* That should be your new slogan.

I let out a chuckle and dropped my phone so I could get back to my morning routine and get to work. But the whole time I was getting ready, I thought about Melany. As I finished tying my tie, I finally came to a conclusive decision… one I could live with. I was going to do whatever it took to win this time. My gut told me I was in for the fight of my life.

No way in hell was I giving up.