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Chapter One

Emery

Sitting at the bar, I swirled the straw around, forcing the ice cubes to twirl and dance in the liquid. Resting my head on my hand, I watched the vortex as it dissolved the ice layer by layer.

Why the hell did I agree to this?

Passing by me for a third time, the bartender stopped to ask me if I needed anything, but I brushed him off, shaking my head no with a partial frown.

“You sure?” he asked, leaning in closer so he could hear me speak over the music that was only there to ensure bodies rubbed and no one could have a real conversation.

“Yeah, I'm sure.” Looking over my shoulder, I glanced around, searching the crowd for my so called date. “I'm waiting on someone.”

Smiling, the man placed a shot glass on the bar. “This one's on the house.” Grabbing a bottle of vodka, he filled it to the rim. “Tastes like raspberries, and hopefully it'll help you feel a little better. If it doesn't, at least it'll make waiting less boring.” Winking, he nodded his head for me to take it.

Eyeing the small glass, there was a moment of hesitation. I wasn't much of a drinker, and the last thing I needed was to get drunk while I did something that pushed me completely out of my comfort zone. I was already on drink two, that was more than I usually had in a month.

I had already started to get the signature warm and fuzzies in my belly, and my muscles felt loose and tingly as the buzz traveled my body like hot water.

What the hell am I doing here?

You promised Della you'd give it a shot, that's what you're doing.

My best friend Della had basically talked me into this, using her famous puppy dog eyes and pouty lips to push my decision. Add in a little bit of begging and I reluctantly agreed against my better judgment.

So here I was, waiting on a guy—who in her words—was God's gift to mankind. His name was Simon, a local guy who came into her coffee shop every Thursday for years now.

Supposedly, he was six feet tall, with dark red hair and a killer smile. She said he was built like a house, with thick muscular arms and a tattoo on the side of his neck.

That last detail made me second guess her choice, but I was going to keep an open mind, while I held my promise to see this date through. My only problem now was there weren't any men around that resembled her description at all. Tapping my nails against the cold glass, I watched the alcohol as it sloshed from side to side. Pursing my lips, I took in a deep breath, exhaling it hard and fast.

Fuck it.

Raising the glass to the bartender, I rested it against my lips, and threw my head back to drink it quickly. There was a slight burn as it skated down my throat and warmed my belly. My mouth tingled, sizzling like I had just sucked on a ghost pepper.

Coughing slightly, my voice came out scratchy and harsh. “Thank you,” I said with a cringe, as I wiped my lips with the pads of my fingers and took a long sip of my drink to ease the fire in my mouth.

“Hope your night gets better.” Clearing the shot glass off the bar top, he walked off to tend to the other patrons, and I couldn't help but feel more alone than I had the entire time I had been sitting there.

At first I was nervous, even a little excited for this date. There was something sensual and dangerous about meeting a mystery man. But that feeling had faded, creating doubt and uncertainty, leaving me bitter and cold to everyone else there having a good time.

The people around me were talking and laughing, men and women were dancing and having a fucking ball. And here I was, alone, frowning, and talking to myself inside my head.

A part of me wanted what everyone else had; I wanted to smile. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to leave reality behind and forget the shit that made me ponder how my life ended up the way it did.

I suppose my reality was the same as everyone else. I worried about money, debt, the need to feed myself in this economy where prices went up and wages seemed to stay the same. From the looks on everyone around me, no one else seemed to have a care in the fucking world.

Jealousy was a fucking bitch, regardless of whether it was justified or not.

I knew it wasn't rational for me to feel that way, I didn't know any of the people there. I knew a hell of a lot more people had it worse than me, I wasn't the only one dealt a shitty hand. But I was jealous of the fun they were having while I fell deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole.

There was anger for being stood up, there was hurt and pain for feeling unimportant; like Simon had found something better to do than follow through on his word to be there.

Why am I surprised?

Men suck.

Sitting solo and deflated, I began to feel really dumb for agreeing to a blind date with a man I knew nothing about. What the hell was I thinking?