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Instead, I feel empty inside.

I hate him for that, for causing me to feel the guilt as it races through my veins, for the disappointment I’m all too familiar with, and for making me second-guess myself. “Stop the car.”

We reach the end of the next block, and the car slams to a stop. Unable to get closer because of cars blocking the curb, the driver jerks his head around. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry. I need to get out.”

He rolls his eyes, his gaze returning to the rearview mirror. Cars are blaring their horns at us for stopping in the lane. “I’m giving you a lower passenger rating for this.”

“I’ll take it. I’m sorry.” I pop open the door and get out, squeezing between two parked cars. Once I reach the sidewalk, I start walking back to the bar where I left Harrison. I don’t know why.

Why do I care?

Why am I doing this?

Why do I feel bad?

Why am I anxious to get to him?

I was practically born in designer heels, but I really wish I had on sneakers as I hurry upstream through the crowd that feels determined to keep me from reaching him. I walk faster, then slowly jog, my heart racing along with the thoughts of wondering what the hell I’m even doing.

Chasing guys isn’t something I ever have to do.

I’m not even sure what I’m going to say to him.

Pushing my injured ego aside, I’m willing to start over. I won’t hold a damn thing against him. This time.

I’d do it for real this time.

We can be friends.

Friends.

That almost sounds believable.

Being friends with him might be interesting because I don’t have guy friends. Usually, it’s for a reason, but maybe he’ll be different if he’s just a friend, and all the sexual tension between us will disappear.Sexual tension? What the hell?

A guy rushing in the opposite direction hits my shoulder, sending me back a few steps and wobbling. I catch myself, along with my breath, and then run as fast as I can while dressed in a short skirt and these damn high but stunning, heels. I’d take them off if I weren’t well aware of the grossness on New York’s sidewalks.

Just past the entrance to the bar, I stop, my chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as I stare at the spot where I left him. I look back at the door and then to the curb where cabs and cars pick up and drop off passengers.

A heavy exhale escapes me as defeat sets in, smothering the excitement that had been building like this is some dumb love story.

What did I really expect?

That he’d still be here like a fool in the middle of the sidewalk waiting for me to hop out of a car two blocks down and run against the current to get back to him?As if.

Who’s the fool now?

That’d be me.

5

Tatum

My stomach vibrates.

Ugh.