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AARYN

I thought success would feel better than this. Scowling down at my phone, I lower the brightness on my screen so it’s a little less obnoxious. Only a few scraps of light manage to slip past the hodgepodge of beer signs and banners in the bar windows. That’s fine. I’m in a dark mood.

I was living every nerd’s wildest dream: My startup hit big time. I had Silicon Valley titans and billionaire investors blowing up my phone, and I was making crazy money doing something I loved —all before I turned thirty.

Or, rather, I had been living that dream… right up until I walked in on my girlfriend bent over my business partner’s desk, skirt hiked up to her hips as he railed her. The fact that she was also our director of marketing? Not ideal, to say the least.

I don’t know what possessed me to drive back here.

Maybe some part of me just wanted to feel nostalgic.

Sure, it had been ages since I’d been home, but I didn’t feel a damn thing.

Not when I drove by my high school or revisited all of my old teenage haunts —not even when I drove past the house where I grew up.

Nothing could get past the fog of hurt and anger clouding my mind.

I hadn’t been planning to stop into Finnegan’s Wake, but as I was passing by, my phone buzzed with the notification that I’m now an actual millionaire — and not a small one, either.I mean, the money’s still in escrow, but that’s just to keep the lawyers happy.

“Awesome,” I muttered, hearing the sarcasm in my voice. “Guess I’m celebrating alone.”

A fter my eyes adjust to the light, I take a look around.

Honestly, I was kind of surprised this bar was still here.

I have no idea how this little dive managed to hang on while the rest of the town around it transformed into a playground for city dwellers cosplaying small-town folks on the weekends.

It’s the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, so I’ve got the place to myself except for the bartender.

Since he’s facing away from me, my eyes fall on the striking white hair above the collar of his black button-down.

He must have heard me take my seat, because he puts down the book he was reading and turns to greet me.

My mouth drops open in shock. Because I know this face very, very well. The other kids started calling Errol Francis “Skunk” when, in junior year, a white streak inexplicably appeared in his dark-brown bangs. He was my best friend.

“Errol! What a surprise!” I’m trying to remember the last time I saw him. Had we gotten together at the diner sometime in my sophomore year of college? Could it really have been that long? “How the hell are you, man?”

White locks tumble over his forehead, making an arresting contrast with his unlined skin. His eyes are more familiar — warm, luminous brown shot through with flecks of amber that always made me think of tiger’s eye.

The only thing brighter than his hair is the thousand-watt smile that lights up Errol’s face when he recognizes me.

“Aaryn!” he exclaims as he leans forward to prop his forearms on the bar.

His sleeves are rolled up to just below the elbow.

“Holy shit! What are you doing back in town? Must be ten years since I saw you last!”

I try to think. “Yeah, it’s been a minute! I didn’t recognize you from the back. You know, ah —” I sort of wave in his direction as my words stumble to a stop. I’m not sure if he’s sensitive about his hair anymore. High school kids can be such dicks.

But he just gives me a rueful grin. “Yeah, pretty much as soon as I hit twenty-two, that white streak started spreading and eventually took over.” He straightens back up. “Shit —look at me here running my mouth. What can I get you to drink?”

I take a look at the taps and order one of the local craft beers. As Errol walks away, my eyes unconsciously follow. He grew up and grew into his looks in a way I couldn’t have envisioned.

He’d been a chubby teenager —along with his hair, he got teased about that , too. Back then, he never really looked comfortable in his own skin. Of course, a good part of the reason I recognized that unease was that I wasn’t, either.

But now, Errol seems to carry his weight with confidence.

He’s still got a bubble butt, but he isn’t trying to hide it under baggy cargo pants and oversized sweatshirts anymore.

Actually, his dark-blue jeans are tight enough to call attention to it.

Combined with the distinctive white hair, his appearance makes an impression.

It’s not until he turns around that I realize I was staring at his ass. What the hell ? I dart my eyes away, my face burning.

Errol makes his way back to me with a smile, pint glass in hand and no indication that he caught me ogling him.

I breathe an inward sigh of relief. Huh.

Maybe he lost a bit of weight, too, or maybe my eyes are just playing tricks on me.

Or has it been so long I’ve just forgotten?

But I think I’d remember if his cheekbones looked like that before.

“Uh, thanks,” I say, sticking my hands in my jacket pockets because having them on the bar suddenly makes me feel awkward and exposed. “What do I owe you?”

One shoulder lifts into a shrug, a familiar mannerism that takes me back. “Don’t worry about it. That’s on me.”

He folds his arms and reclines against the back of the bar, studying me with a disarming smile. “Damn —can’t believe you’re sitting here. It’s really great to see you again.”

I feel like I’m staring at his hair, so I tilt my head a little and look at him more deliberately. “I like the white. It’s striking, I guess you’d say. It works for you.”

Errol’s face brightens again. “You think so? Thanks.” He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and starts tapping at it. “I’d kind of resigned myself that it might happen once I found out it runs in my family. My granddad was the same way —it hit in his twenties, too.”

He set his phone on the bar to show me a slightly blurry photo of a young couple. Their clothes and hairstyles make me think the photo was taken sometime in the sixties. He has an arm around her shoulders and a mane of slicked-back white hair.

“Wow. That’s wild.”

Errol kind of makes a face. “Sorry, I’m probably boring you with this shit. Tell me more about what you’re up to these days. Still doing the high-tech stuff, developing apps and all? How long are you in town for?”

I shrug, but I’m a little surprised. I didn’t know Errol knew what I did.

Silicon Valley might like to think of itself as the center of the universe, but that’s just because it’s packed with former nerds sucking up all of the ego-boosting recognition we can once we get a taste of what it’s like to be important.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I admit. “I didn’t have much of a plan.”

“You here to see your folks?”

I shake my head. “Nah. They cashed out and took off for Florida when this town started getting trendy. My mom’s older sister had already moved down there a couple years earlier.”

Errol nods. Something about the quiet of the bar and the way he’s looking at me itches at my brain, so I keep running my mouth about stupid shit to fill the space.

When I shut up enough to let Errol get a word in edgewise, he says he’s been living in his Gran’s house since she died a couple of years ago.

“She left it to me. I just about passed out from shock when the lawyer called. I didn’t think she even liked me, even if I was her grandson! So I’m fixing it up little by little.”

He takes my empty glass to refill it and asks over his shoulder, “How about you?”

“Well, I was out in California until six months or so ago.”

“Oh yeah, right. What’s it like out there? I’ve never been — I’d love to visit one of these days.”

I laugh. “Perfect weather and terrible traffic. Beautiful and expensive — kind of like the people.”

He asks me some more about California before giving me a little frown. “Sounds like you liked it out there. Why’d you move back this way?”

I sigh. “I thought things were getting serious with my girlfriend, Eliza. She wanted to live in New York City, so we moved there.” I huff out a sigh and shake my head.

I’m afraid that if I keep talking, I’m just going to word-vomit all over Errol about the clusterfuck that my life has recently become.

Ah, the hell with it. I’ve always had a motormouth, but Errol was the only one I felt like I could really talk to. For years, he was the one person who knew absolutely everything about me —every stupid confession, every embarrassing secret.

Guess I’ll pick up where we left off and admit that Aaryn Knight, hotshot app developer and tech wunderkind, is still a giant, awkward failure at relationships.