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“My parents, they can be pretty overbearing, and my mom ambushed me today at lunch and tried setting me up with her friend's son.”

“Oh, God, no, she didn’t,” Luna gasps, clutching my arm.

“Oh, she did, and he’s just like all the others, and he was sweet, but just not what I’m looking for, you know?”

She scrunches up her freckled covered nose and nods in understanding, taking a sip of her juice, tucking a strand of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear.

“She makes me so mad, so I use class as my release,” I continue.

“I hear you. My classes and the pressure from my dad to come top is kicking my ass, so this class and my job at the club are the only thing getting me through the week.” Luna sighs. She’s a couple of years younger than me and studying to be a nurse at the local college.

“Amen to that,” I say, tapping my smoothie cup with hers. We do a little lap of the park and then head back to our cars in the parking lot at the studio.

“See you Saturday,” I say as I get in my car, feeling a hundred times lighter for taking this little piece for me. Away from expectations and judgment. I just wish I was brave enough to share it with my everyday world.

Chapter Three

Brad

Routine keeps me in check. It’s the only thing that does. Some people might call it obsessive, but for me, it’s survival.

Most of my days begin and end the same. I wake, I shower, I eat, I go to the gym, I go to work, I call my sister, I come home, shower, bed, and repeat. I may squeeze in a random hook up and trips to the bars in between, but if I don’t follow those order of events every day and tick them off my mental to do list, then it all goes to hell.

When you have an addictive personality, you need to choose your addictions carefully.

The military helped with that. It kept my head straight and my hands busy. But when I got out, old habits came knocking, and it took everything to keep me from slipping. Now I stick to what works.

Hot water runs down my back as I drag a hand through my hair, forcing myself to focus.

Today is a break in routine, and I hate that. I’m moving out of my apartment once we get back from Jack’s bachelor weekend, and so I’ve had to push some meetings to the evenings. Not ideal.

I shut off the shower, step out, and wrap a towel around my waist. Breathe. Adapt. Get through the day.

I enter my now empty closet—only a few items of clothing remain on hangers, just enough to see me through till we head to Vegas. I slip on a pair of black jeans, black military style boots, and a black t-shirt. Like everything in my life, I keep my wardrobe easy, basic, and organized.

My phone buzzes on top of my dresser. I look and see a text from the group chat I have with Jack and Harry, my best friends and business partners.

Jack

Brad, you still on for the investor meeting at Diamonds?

Harry

I’ve heard ‘great’ things about Diamonds.

Brad

Yep, you put it in our diary.

Harry

What, you guys have a diary? I wanna be in the diary.

Jack

The shared diary is for grown-ups, Harry.

Harry