~ Andrea

“Interesting.” The man in front of me nods before taking a sip of his gin tonic, his eyes glistening with approval.

I look away, taking another small sip of my tangy and slightly sweet Cranberry Cosmopolitan.

Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for him. His name is Bill and for the past fifteen minutes, I’ve found out that he works as a manager at the small café down the street. That’s not bad, actually. The thing is he’s too busy with work that his only hobbies are eating and drinking and frankly, it’s showing in that belly underneath his peach-colored dress shirt. Pink I actually find attractive on men but peach? It seems too sweet, which he doesn’t seem to be. Yes, he’s been showering me with compliments. Yes, he’s been listening to me give him the sparsest, vaguest details about my life. But something tells me that his interest is primarily in what’s beneath my sleeveless white blouse, more so than what’s beneath my denim skirt.

Nope. Not what I’d call a great guy at all.

Looking over at where Jo is sitting at the other end of the bar, she seems to think the same of the man with her. Slightly older than mine but more fit, which is probably why she chose him. He’s got a better fashion sense, too, with a dark gray vest over his pale grey dress shirt. And yet, Jo looks like she’s trying hard to suppress a yawn.

Eventually, she fails and she taps the man’s shoulder after getting off her stool, mumbling something. I make my hasty exit as well.

“It’s been nice meeting you, Bill,” I say. “But I think I see my friend. Enjoy the evening.”

Without waiting for an answer, I go to Jo, both of us heading to a pair of empty, comfortable chairs.

“Let me guess.” I drop myself in one. “Your guy was a bore.”

“Yes, he was.” She gulps down the rest of her Margarita. “And yours?”

“I wish I could say he was nice.” I take one last sip of my Cosmopolitan before setting the empty glass down on the table in front of us. “So, don’t you think we should leave?”

Jo glances at her watch. “Honey, it hasn’t even been an hour and the fun hasn’t started. Why leave?”

I look around the bar. “Because there doesn’t seem to be any interesting guys around. I thought that was what you were after.”

“I hate to say it but you’re right.” She sits back. “Where are all the hot guys in Chicago?”

“Probably at home with their wives or alone in their apartments. It’s still a weeknight, after all.”

Jo sighs. “And here, I put on this little black dress.”

It’s a beautiful halter dress with a low back and a bubble skirt, the hem of which stops two inches above the knee. It’s definitely more daring and more classy than what I’m wearing. My only edge is in the shoe department, my knee-high silver gladiator sandals slightly more sophisticated than her open-toed red stilettos. Then again, Jo has always been a better dresser than me, probably because I don’t put too much effort. Why, if not for the fact that my picture is on my books and I’m on a promotional tour right now, I’d be wearing faded jeans with slit knees and an oversized shirt.

Seriously, I don’t know why Jo thinks I can get a man better than her. Her hair is shinier than mine, more obedient, too. My auburn hair, on the other hand, is like a teenager, stubborn if not rebellious, eager to stand out even if it’s not in a good way and thinking it knows better than me. True, my legs may be more slender, my hips and waist more narrow but that’s only because I’m also taller. Besides, she’s got all the curves, particularly in the chest area.

Nope. I’m not jealous. I wouldn’t be able to handle those, plus I’m glad I don’t stand out. The less attention from men, the fewer chances of ending up with one and the smaller risk of getting hurt.

I sit up. “Maybe we really should go. I’m getting sleepy.”

“You’re tipsy, not sleepy,” Jo corrects. “And don’t talk like an old lady. You…”

Suddenly, she stops, eyes wide and mouth hanging. “Holy shit.”

Curious, I turn my head, seized by the same awe as I stare at the piece of eye candy that’s just walked into the room.

This one’s yummy, alright.

He looks like he’s just come from the office, a large one with a huge desk judging by his expensive-looking striped shirt, his black slacks that fit him so perfectly they must be tailored and that shiny watch on his wrist. He’s discarded his tie, the top button of his shirt undone. Even with the rest of the buttons in place, though, one can see how toned his chest is and how flat his stomach is, those hard muscles straining against the soft cotton. Then there are those biceps, maybe not as large as Captain America’s but impressive just the same, peeking beneath rolled sleeves. He doesn’t seem like a swimmer but he’s definitely spent a lot of time at the gym.

Definitely hot.

Wait. What? What am I saying? And why the hell am I still staring?

Jo’s right. I don’t really look at men but for some reason, I can’t look away from this one. For God’s sake, I’m even studying him.

The way he carries his broad shoulders proudly suggests confidence, power. He holds his head up, basking in the attention he’s commanding. His deep-seated eyes, blue as the ocean and shadowed by sharp-edged, thick eyebrows, sweep across the room, which means he’s looking for someone. A friend? A date? Then he looks at his watch. Probably, whomever he’s meeting is late. He doesn’t show the slightest annoyance, though, as he walks to the bar, his lips, the bottom fuller than the top, even curving into a satisfied grin.

He’s completely in control.

His jaw line, though coated with a few days’ growth of hair, is obviously chiseled. Very manly. Also, he may appear like an impeccable gentleman but he’s also got a devil-may-care side. His hair is dark brown, combed back and…

I pause, my breath catching as I recognize the face.

I’ve seen it before. On the cover of a magazine.

No. Not just there.

I know this man.

Clay Maxwell.

I look away. “Shit.”

“That’s what I said,” Jo says, wiping some imaginary drool from her chin as she keeps staring. “Boy, I wouldn’t mind getting all fucked up if it was by him.”

“I know him.”

“He does look familiar. Is he an actor? He doesn’t look like someone in a band.”

“His name is Clay Maxwell,” I inform. “He’s a businessman, a CEO.”

And my ex.

“So, he’s hot and he’s got money to burn.” Jo puts on a fresh layer of lipstick. “Perfect combination. Wait. How do you know him?”

“We went to the same high school.”

Jo looks at me. “Holy shit. You really do know this man?”

“That’s what I said.”

For a moment, Jo just looks at me in shock, lipstick in hand. Then she smiles, glancing over at Clay.

“You should definitely approach him.”

“No,” I protest quickly, standing up. “We should leave.”

Jo grabs my arm with both hands. “We are not leaving until you say hello to him.”

I look over to where Clay is sitting at the bar and shake my head as I put up a finger. “You know what? Maybe it’s not him. Maybe I made a mistake.”

“You’re a good friend, Andrea,” Jo says. “But you’re a very bad liar.”

I sigh. Unfortunately, Jo is right.

“What are you scared of?”

What am I scared of? For one, I’m scared he might not recognize me. The last time was ages ago, after all, and we’ve both changed a lot since then. Well, he’s changed more than me but I still don’t look the same. Worse, he might recognize me but deny that he knows me. And I wouldn’t blame him, since he seems so powerful and all now. He probably has a hundred girls chasing after him. He’s probably forgotten all about me. I mean why would he remember the girl he so callously left behind?

I swallow. After all this time, it still hurts. That’s why I don’t want to go near him, much more talk to him. What if he brings up the past? What if he finally gives me an explanation and apologizes? Even if he does, it won’t change a thing. It won’t make anything better.

I pull my arm away from Jo. “Let’s just go. Please?”

“Fine.” Jo stands up. “If you don’t want to approach him, I will.”

“What?”

Before her words can even sink in, she’s halfway to the bar.

“Shit.”

I go after her but she’s too fast. By the time I’ve caught up to her, she’s already talking to Clay.

“Clay, isn’t it?” She offers him her hand. “My name is Jo Bryce. I’m here with a friend who I think you’ve met before. She said both of you went to the same high school. Her name is…”

“Andrea?” Clay says my name just as I’ve put my hand on Jo’s shoulder, ready to yank her away.

I freeze. Clay remembers me?

“Well, what do you know? Andrea wasn’t lying, after all.” Jo grabs my arm and pushes my still immobile body forward. “Well, I’ll leave the two of you to catch up. I’ll be around if you need me.”

Again, before I can say anything, she leaves, winking.

Finally, able to move, I turn my head to give her a look of disbelief. What the hell? She’s just going to leave me here?

“It is you, isn’t it?” Clay asks.

I look at him, taking a deep breath as I try not to be overwhelmed by his presence.

Breathe, Andrea. Stay calm.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He chuckles. “I guess I have changed.”

Understatement of the century.

“Please take a seat.” He gestures to the empty stool beside him, pulling it out.

I reluctantly obey, even holding his hand as I hoist myself up.

“Margarita?” He asks. “Cosmopolitan? Daiquiri?”

I summon my composure as I clutch my purse close to my stomach. “Oh, are those what the women you’re with usually order?”

That’s right. Act as if nothing ever happened between the two of you, as if he never hurt you.

“No,” he says. “They usually order Sex on the Beach.”

In spite of myself, I blush, the image of him on the beach with a woman immediately popping into my mind. I shove it away.

He’s talking about the cocktail, stupid.

“I’ll have a Mai Tai.”

Suddenly, I feel like having a stronger cocktail.

“Ed, one Mai Tai for the lady and the usual for me,” Clay tells the bartender.

“Sure.”

“You’re here often,” I observe out loud.

His blue eyes narrow. “What gave it away? Was it something in the way I spoke? Some ease to the way I’m sitting here?”

I just grin.

The bartender serves our drinks.

“Thanks, Ed,” Clay tells him then turns back to me. “You’re a psychologist now, after all. That’s what you do, right? Analyze people?”

He knows I’m a psychologist? Something inside me leaps at that realization.

Calm down, Andrea. He probably just saw you on TV while he was flipping channels. Nothing special. He left you, remember? Why would he keep track of you?

I place my fingers around my glass. “And what about you? What do you do?”

“I run a software company.”

Of course, I already know that.

“Good for you.”

“You’re the one who should be proud of yourself. You made your dream come true.”

He remembers that, too.

“Let’s toast to that, shall we?” He lifts his glass. “To dreams that came true.”

I don’t really want to. I want to say ‘To rising above heartache’ or ‘To people you thought you’d left behind’, something to wipe that grin off his face and make him feel even just a fraction of the pain that I’m feeling, which he seems completely oblivious of.

It’s so fucking unfair.

I don’t want to make a fuss, though, not here, not now.

You’re better than this, Andrea. You’re stronger now.

“Cheers,” I say with a forced smile, letting my glass clink with his before taking a generous sip of my new cocktail. It’s definitely stronger, almost making me grimace as the liquid leaves a warm trail down my throat, but it’s still delicious.

“So, what brings you to Chicago?” he asks after taking a sip of his own drink.

I set down my glass. “Just promoting my new books.”

“Congratulations on them.”

“Thanks.” I give a sheepish grin.

“Who are you with?”

“Oh.” I glance around, looking for Jo, who waves at me from a chair as our eyes meet. “That’s Jo. She’s my book agent, publicist and best friend.”

“Seems like someone reliable.”

“She is.” I turn back to him. “What about you? Who are you waiting for?”

He grins. “As I thought, you’re very perceptive. Just a friend.”

I nod, tapping my fingers on my glass. “I see.”

“A man,” he clarifies. “His name is Gavin.”

Of course, Clay’s waiting for a man. Why did I just assume he was waiting for a woman?

Wait. He’s waiting for another man? Just his friend or…?

“He’s my lawyer.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly, it dawns on me that I just assumed two things about Clay and he seems to know it, judging by that amused look on his face.

Shit.

I quickly take another sip of my Mai Tai. A big sip.

Clay glances at his watch. “He’s usually early but I guess he’s late tonight. That’s alright, though, since I get to talk to you and have you all to myself.”

Clay wants me all to himself?

“You’re not engaged, are you?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Boyfriend?”

Another shake.

“Ever had another?”

“A few,” I lie, taking another sip of my drink.

There’s no way I’m going to admit to him that I’ve never been in a relationship after him or that I’m still a virgin.

“Easy on that,” Clay scolds. “I’m sure there’s plenty more where that came from.”

What do you care?

I set down my glass. “Sorry. I’m just…thirsty, I guess. What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

Shit. Did I just ask that out loud? The alcohol must be starting to take effect.

“No,” Clay answers. “That position’s open.”

“I see.” I rub my fingers against my glass.

“Or maybe it’s more accurate to say it’s reserved,” he adds. “For someone special.”

As he speaks, he looks into my eyes and I blush, a lump forming in my throat.

“Maybe someone I’ve let slip from my fingers before.”

Is he talking about me?

“Maybe someone who’s always been in my heart.”

Holy shit.

“By the way…” He reaches for my hand. “You look amazing, Andrea.”

That does it. I pull my hand away, gulp down my drink and get off the stool.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “I think I need to go to the restroom.”

I head there as quickly as I can. Still, Jo catches up to me.

“What was that about?” she asks, clearly dismayed. “I thought I told you not to run away.”

“I’m not running away,” I tell her without stopping. “I’m regrouping.”

“Regrouping?”

I go inside the restroom, taking a deep breath. “That man is not the same person I knew. He’s…” I struggle to find the word.

“Scorching hot?” Jo suggests. “Too sexy?”

I roll my eyes at her.

“What? Did he get your panties in a twist? Because he seems like the kind of guy who can have a strong effect on panties.”

“My panties are fine,” I tell her, blushing as I look around and realize some women are listening.

How much more embarrassing can this evening get?

I sigh as I put my purse down beside the sink. “I shouldn’t have gone with you.”

Jo stands beside me. “You still haven’t told me what’s wrong.”

What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that Clay doesn’t seem to feel the tiniest bit of remorse for what he did to me, like he remembers me, but not that part where he broke my heart, leaving me with a vague note filled with promises that he never fulfilled. What’s wrong is that he doesn’t think I’m mad at him, that he thinks he can charm me like he used to and he’s trying to. What’s wrong is that it’s working. I’m falling for him all over again.

What’s wrong is that I’m just as stupid as I used to be.

“I don’t know, okay?” I tell Jo as I fix my hair in front of the mirror. “I just…He makes me uncomfortable.”

Jo crosses her arms over her chest, grinning. “Finally, a man has affected my best friend.”

I frown. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s normal, that’s what it is.” Jo moves closer to me. “Listen, Andrea, you’re a woman. He’s a man among men. Plus, you two have met before. Of course, there will be something in the air. Attraction. Excitement.”

“I’m not sure those two are what’s in the air.”

“Maybe you don’t think so. But maybe that’s what he feels.”

“That other guy was attracted to me, too, but he didn’t make me act like this.”

“That’s because there wasn’t a chance you could get attracted to him. On the other hand, there’s a big chance you’re getting attracted to Clay. And that’s what scares you.”

“I’m not scared. I’m just…” I take a deep breath. “Fine. I’m scared.”

“Don’t fight it, Andrea. Just go with the flow.”

I look at her. “It’s not that simple, Jo.”

“It is.” She gives me back my purse and gives me a shove. “Just go back out there and stop acting like a fucking virgin.”

I roll my eyes. Easy for her to say.

Frankly, I just want to go back to my room and hide under the blankets. Why shouldn’t I leave Clay out there? He did the same to me, only much worse.

So, you want revenge?

No. I want…Ugh, this is so frustrating.

Fine. I won’t sink to his level, I tell myself as I grab my purse. I’ll just go out there, tell him I have to go and…

I stop, seeing the empty stool at the bar.

Clay’s gone.

Just like before, he’s gone without a word.

I should be relieved. Instead, I find myself disappointed, worried, hurt.

Let him go, Andrea.

Right. I don’t care why he left. For all I know, he picked a woman up the moment he knew I wasn’t going to be easy to get. That’s fine. This will be the last time we meet. From now on, he’s as good as dead to me.