It’s been four months since I graduated from the University of Virginia, crammed everything I owned into the trunk of my Honda, and headed north for a new life and a new job here in Washington, D.C.

Working as a junior associate at a mid-level accounting firm isn’t exactly my dream job, but it pays the rent.

The city is as bustling and intimidating as it is beautiful, but I’m having trouble connecting with new people. My best friend Alexa lives nearby, but she works long hours and isn’t around all that much. My other friends from school are scattered throughout the country, either at new jobs in new cities like me, or back at home with their parents.

So, in the absence of any kind of social life, I’ve formed a deep, lasting relationship with Netflix. Occasionally I spice things up with a pint of mint chip, whenever I’m compelled to eat my feelings. This is pretty much my new normal, and tonight? Alexa’s had enough. She’s staging an intervention.

“Are you gonna get ready, or are you just gonna lie there?” Alexa yells from somewhere in the recesses of my bedroom closet.

Snuggling the fluffiest pillow I own, I burrow down deep into my comfy mattress and turn up the volume on my television. “Just gonna lie here.”

“C’mon!” Alexa throws a balled-up T-shirt across the room, which lands right on my ass. “I need you to pick a dress.”

Alexa holds the only two little black dresses that I own, ones I rarely wear because I hate going to the kinds of places I’d have to wear them. Like the one Alexa is intent on dragging me to tonight.

“Short or shorter?” With a hanger in each hand, Alexa displays my options. “The short one accentuates your curves, but the shorter one says, ‘I’m here to have sex tonight.’”

“Maybe you should wear that one then.”

Alexa sighs, tosses my dresses on the bed, then walks over and pries the remote from my hand. She aims it at the television, and a second later the screen flickers off.

“Why did you do that?” I’m not proud of the mild panic that laces its way through my words.

“I’m instigating a breakup between you and your boyfriend, Netflix.”

My comforter pools around my hips as I sit up, indignant. “Our relationship is totally healthy, okay? It makes binge-watching so easy.”

With an exasperated sigh, Alexa sits down on the edge of the bed. “Stop deflecting.”

I consider arguing with her, but I press my lips together to stop myself from speaking. I don’t want to fight. “Okay.”

“You’ve gotta get out and meet some new people. You need to stop hiding and let yourself have some fun. The way things are now, you’re going to wake up one morning when you’re fifty and regret the fact that the only meaningful relationship you have is with your television.”

“To be fair, televisions will probably be obsolete 27 years from now.”

Alexa narrows her eyes. “Hayley.”

Having a person in your life who knows you better than anyone else is really great, except for when they call you out on your shit when you’re not ready to be called out on it.

“I’m fine with my life the way it is,” I lie.

Alexa gives me a look that screams you’ve got to be kidding me. “Weren’t you just complaining about your dry spell, like, two days ago?”

I glare at her. “Using my involuntary celibacy against me is just rude.” She’s right, though. I was just complaining about it. I’m at the point now where I feel like there should be a sign above my bed that reads:

Not that I’m keeping track or anything.

“No-strings-attached fun awaits you if you just put on one of these dresses.”

“I hate clubs,” I counter, which is the absolute well-documented truth. “Can’t I just put on my favorite jeans, go to the grocery store, and…I don’t know, meet someone in the produce section?”

Alexa lets out a sharp laugh. “I think you’re missing the point of a one-night stand, sweetie. You want to find someone dirty-hot and dangerous who can make you come 20 times and doesn’t care if you call him back. Your little produce section fantasy is marriage material. If that’s what you’re looking for, then a club is definitely the wrong place to go.”

“You know I’m not looking for…” I narrow my eyes and lower my voice. “The M-word.”

“Never in my life have I met a commitment-phobe who turns up her nose at the idea of casual sex,” Alexa replies, rolling her eyes. “You have a problem, and I’m offering you a solution. Plus…free drinks.”

“It’s not the casual sex I’m turning up my nose at. I want the casual sex. It’s the going to a club part of this scenario that I dislike. It was so easy in college…guys were always so ready and willing, and they were everywhere. All I had to do was step foot out of my dorm and I’d practically trip over two guys who were anxious to get into my pants.”

Alexa laughs. “There are tons of guys around who are anxious to get into your pants,” she assures me. “You just have to go outside a ten-foot radius to find them now.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You look hot in those dresses, Hayley,” Alexa says, nodding toward where they lie at the foot of my bed. “I’d be willing to bet that you won’t even have to stay at the club for very long.”

That gets a smile out of me. Apparently, a little bit of flattery goes a long way for me these days.

“It’ll be fun,” Alexa continues, knowing that she’s managed to put a dent in my defenses. “At the very least you’ll get to spend some time in the land of the living.”

“Hey,” I reply, offended. “I go out in the land of the living all the time.”

“Yeah,” she snorts. “To go to work, get more ice cream, and then come home.”

That one stings a bit, and Alexa must notice because her expression immediately softens.

“Look, I know you’re having a hard time. It was the same way for me when I moved up here last year, but you’re not making it any easier on yourself.”

She has a point. I hate it when she has a point. It’s one night…what can it hurt?

With a deeply aggrieved sigh, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand. Alexa looks up at me with a hint of a smile and a little bit of hope in her eyes.

“Hand me a dress.”

“Which one? Short or shorter?”

If I’m going, might as well go all the way. “Shorter.”

* * *

“Is this as awful as you thought it’d be?” Alexa asks.

I don’t answer, because really…it’s worse.

The club’s bass is pumping, the smell of sweat and too much alcohol in the air. A sea of bodies moves along to the beat on the dance floor, while Alexa and I fight for a little bit of real estate at the bar.

A guy slides up behind me, pressing his cold glass against the sliver of exposed skin at the small of my back as he grinds his erection against my ass, his free hand inching dangerously low across my belly. His cologne is as strong as his advances, and I shudder when he leans in close, his hot breath on my ear.

Gross.

“No thanks,” I say firmly, pinching his wrist to get his hand off of me as I jam my stiletto into his foot as hard as I can.

“Bitch.” He gives up easily, though, flashing an annoyed look in my direction before he slinks back into the crowd, moving on to less fortunate prey.

Men like these are the reason I hate clubs, assuming any woman is willing and there for the taking, available to touch however he wants. I realize this is basically a meat market, but I’d like someone to understand that there are boundaries, and give me the chance to indicate I’m willing to have mine crossed before they do the crossing.

Alexa’s busy trying to find some commitment-free fun of her own, but by the looks of it, she’s having about as much luck as I am. She twists away from a handsy jerk a few feet away and makes her way back to my side.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” I ask Alexa, before taking a sip of my whiskey sour. It was free, which seems to be the only redeeming quality of this shitty evening so far.

“We’re here to get you laid!” she replies with an enthusiastic yell, and her words reverberate through the crowd.

Everyone in our immediate vicinity stares at us.

Oh god. Have I mentioned that I hate clubs?

“She isn’t interested in any of you!” Alexa shouts as the music picks up again, then she grabs my hand and leads me away from the bar. “I’m so sorry about that. I was just trying to make sure you could hear me over the music.”

Alexa looks so upset with herself that I can’t possibly be angry with her. She only has my libido’s best interest at heart.

“It’s okay,” I assure her, even though my cheeks feel hot as the sun from sheer embarrassment as we push our way through the crowd.

“Wanna leave?”

All I’d have to do is nod and this failed experiment of an evening would be blessedly over. I should tell her yes; part of me really wants to. But for reasons that even I don’t fully understand, I say, “No.”

* * *

We’re a few drinks in, and Alexa’s off grinding against some man who looks like he’s old enough to be her father. She seems happy, so I can’t hate her for that, but I can hate her for leaving me here alone.

Just me and my drink all by ourselves in the corner like a couple of losers. I’m trying to convince myself to stop being such a wallflower and dance already. I toss back what’s left in my glass and set it on the ledge behind me when an astonishingly, unbelievably hot guy catches my eye.

Actually, astonishingly, unbelievably hot doesn’t even begin to accurately describe this man.

Hot Guy is incredibly tall, has a mop of dirty-blond hair, and raspy scruff peppering his movie-star jawline. A tight henley shows off every inch of his broad chest and muscular arms from where he stands across the room, just staring at me.

Seems I’ve caught his eye, too. That never happens to me.

His lips part when our eyes meet, like he wants to call out to me or something, but instead he keeps on staring. Staring in a way that makes my heart beat double time, that makes my knees weak. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t nod, doesn’t do anything other than look at me like he wants to devour me.

Without really thinking, I hurriedly make my way over, not even trying to play it cool. I slide between couples who are bumping and grinding on the dance floor, and when I reach Hot Guy, he smiles. It’s not the slick grin of a slime ball who knows he’s going to get laid tonight; it’s sweet and sexy, with just the hint of a dimple shining through.

“Hi,” he says, all soft and familiar despite the fact that we’re complete strangers.

“Hi.”

“I’m glad you came over.” He leans in close, and all I can think about is how good he smells. I want to press my face into his neck and breathe deep. I want his tongue to become familiar with every single inch of my body.

I’m feeling turned on and brazen, and the way Hot Guy’s eyes skate across my body makes me pretty confident that he feels the same way, too. That’s what gives me the courage to say, “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who has difficulty making women come.”

I certainly hope not, at least.

Hot Guy lets out a shocked laugh, and his hazel eyes darken with something that looks a lot like lust. His hands find their way to the small of my back and he gives me a gentle tug, pulling me closer to him and away from the crowd.

“I’m not,” he replies, his scruff rasping against my skin as his lips brush the shell of my ear. “I can show you if you’d like.” His voice is low and rumbly; it gives me goose bumps all over.

I’d like that. Very much. I nod as my hand slips across his chest, over the solid, defined muscle underneath his soft cotton shirt.

“What’s your name?”

“Hunter,” he replies.

I turn my head and inhale, memorizing his scent as he pulls me closer. Even though I don’t feel threatened at all, there’s a comforting kind of safety in his arms that I hadn’t anticipated. The moment is perfect; I pretty much forget that we aren’t the only two people in the room.

Then Hunter’s muscles tighten beneath my hands, and his entire body tenses.

A spike of fear rushes through me, making my heart tap frantically against my breastbone, spreading a tingling rush out to my fingertips.

“Hayley,” he says soothingly.

But there’s nothing soothing about it, because I’m positive I didn’t tell him my name.

“I need you to trust me, okay?” Hunter’s eyes meet mine for one intense, drawn-out moment before his gaze flits back to the crowd. “Do as I say.”

Gunshots ring out before I have a chance to answer.

Hunter has me on the floor in the blink of an eye, my stomach pressed against the cold, unforgiving concrete as pieces of drywall rain down around me. He covers me like a blanket, cradling me against his chest, using his body to keep me safe. His hand shields my face from the falling debris, and the only thing that keeps me from screaming is his steady voice in my ear.

“I’ve got you,” he tells me. “It’s gonna be okay.”

I’m not sure why I believe him.

The gunshots stop abruptly and the guns clatter to the floor. The sickening thump of fists striking bodies fill the air as Hunter picks me up and ushers me out of the room, his body curled around mine, protecting me from any remaining danger.

In the chaos, I manage to catch a glimpse of Alexa. A burly guy is curled around her much like Hunter is curled around me.

I’m about to thank Hunter when he pulls me behind a curtain, between some A/V equipment and the club’s service entrance.

“C’mon.” He tugs my hand. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

I can’t help but scoff in spite of my gratitude. “I appreciate you saving my life back there, so don’t get me wrong, but why on earth would I go anywhere with you when someone was just shooting at you?”

Hunter’s face softens, all the urgency gone as he reaches up and cups my cheek.

“Hayley,” he says urgently. “They weren’t shooting at me. They were shooting at you.”