Page 2 of The False Start (Off the Bench)

I laugh, I may put up a fight, but she’s never been wrong about fashion, and I’ve learned to trust her opinion.

Once, in grad school, I wore a hot pink blazer against her advice to a networking event in an attempt to embody the goddess that is Elle Woods only to get the wrong kind of attention.

Since then, I’ve listened to her suggestions, and they’ve yet to steer me wrong.

I grin at her. “Thanks, Katie.”

“Anytime.” She smirks, her mouth pulling into a true smile as the car slows. “Oh, look we’re here,” she squeals.

I peer out the tinted windows and groan. It's one of the new clubs in West Loop. I can hear the pulsing music from outside and try not to imagine the headache-inducing beat once you’re inside. The line is wrapped around the building, disappearing down the block, and I blanche.

“Katie, I’m not waiting in line for a club, I’m not twenty-two anymore.”

“Babes”—I roll my eyes. Katie's clearly been watching too much Love Island again—“we don’t have to wait in line.” She flashes a gold pass on her phone. “I’ve got a golden ticket.”

“This isn’t the Wonka Factory,” I mutter, fighting back a laugh. Katie ignores me, and I open the door of the Escalade. “Thank you,” I call back to the driver and hop out.

I straighten my dress, trying to pull it down an extra inch or two.

Katie is quite a bit shorter than me, and while I have an inkling she bought this dress for me and didn’t find it randomly in her closet like she implied, Katie usually forgets to consider that I’m five-eight, the heels putting me at an even six feet tall.

Katie likes to joke that whenever she’s meeting up with a guy, she’ll make him stand next to me to see if he’s lying about his height.

Not that it actually matters when she’s only five-foot-three, but according to Katie, “If a man can’t be honest about his height, what else is he willing to lie about?

” Words to live by for any woman honestly.

I walk past the line of early-twentysomethings, all dressed uncomfortably similar to my own club-wear and feel the frat boys eyeing my legs as Katie follows close behind me to the front door.

I stop awkwardly at the bouncer, and he stares at me, a question in his eyes. I clear my throat; I hate skipping the line. I grimace and turn to Katie expectantly.

She flashes the gold pass, and the bouncer raises his eyebrow. “ID?”

I laugh, the drinks I chugged at the bar starting to course through me.

I haven’t been ID’d in ages. The bouncer just looks at me, and I realize that he needs our names more than he needs our birth dates.

Blushing, I quickly dig through my purse and pass over my license.

He says something very quickly into his radio and hands our IDs back.

“One moment, ladies.” He smiles at us as another man pulls back the curtain over the door.

“Right this way. I’ll be taking you to our VIP suite,” he says, turning and setting off into the dark club.

The “suite” is a large roped-off area set on a raised platform at the very back of the packed dance floor. One black couch surrounds a low table on three sides, but I can’t make out the faces of those sitting on it.

Katie darts ahead toward the hunk of muscle standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Theo, darling! Thank you for having us!” she coos.

Theo McClane is good looking, and he knows it.

He’s tall, six-foot-three at least, but lithe.

He was built to be quick but has large hands and broad shoulders.

His wavy, dark-chestnut hair and the playful spark in his hazel-green eyes give his entire demeanor a “frat boy” look that makes me constantly question my own age.

He’s exactly what my type would’ve been a decade ago, before I learned what guys like that usually brought with those charming, good looks.

Now I date for stability and a future. Consistency and dependability, because even if Dennis isn’t Prince Charming, I at least know where I stand with him, and that’s more important than the butterflies.

It’s something Katie doesn’t understand.

She’s all about the passion. Attraction and magnetism, that’s how Katie Chen will fall in love.

I finally reach the steps to the VIP area, when suddenly, a burly-looking middle-aged man knocks into me from where he’s dancing with gusto. I can’t catch my balance fast enough in the new shoes, and I’m going down. In a club. On a dancefloor.

This is where I die.

A pair of large hands catches my waist, steadying me and pulling me back up.

“Are you okay?” a deep, gravelly voice asks from behind me. How that idiot managed to knock me over and then catch me I’ll never know. He should really watch where he’s spastically dancing honestly.

I turn, ready to tell him as much when I realize his hands are still on my waist. My mind sharpens as my irritation grows.

This creep can fuck right off and get his grubby hands off me, thank you very much.

The words die in my throat as I’m met with not the gross old man, but a strong, clean-shaven jawline, my eyes traveling up and up— God, how tall is this guy?

—until I meet a pair of grey eyes so piercing I can feel my soul cleave apart.

The breath rushes out of me along with every single coherent thought I’ve ever possessed.

“Are you okay?” he repeats, finally letting go of my waist. I’m suddenly missing the weight of his hands when all I’m left with is the humid club air and my own balance. He’s looking at me with concern and maybe a touch of alarm.

“Oh.” I clear my throat, finding it extremely dry all of a sudden. “Yes, thank you.” I smile at him.

“Well, shall we?”

“Shall we what?” I ask, confused.

“You were headed into the back? For McClane’s party?” Now it’s his turn to look confused.

“Oh, right, yeah, I didn’t realize you were going too.

” I’m floundering. What is it about eyes that always throw me off my game?

So what if he’s hot? I see hot guys all the time, though normally not so close, and normally not grabbing my waist, but still.

Maybe I just need to get laid. It’s been, what, almost three months since Dennis and I actually spent the night together?

I should really go visit. I make a mental note to ask him about scheduling a trip on our next call, before I remember that we just broke up.

The stranger, oblivious to the train wreck happening in my head, unhooks the velvet rope and gestures me forward.

“Lila! There you are,” Katie calls from her seat on a leather sofa at the edge of the platform, a drink already half empty in her hand.

“Oh and I see you’ve met Cal.” I turn to the man, who nods back.

A synapse fires somewhere in the recesses of my mind, and it connects.

Cal, Theo’s best friend from his and Katie’s circle of friends from prep school.

Katie’s invited me along a few times when he was in town, but it always coincided with something at work.

He’s another football player, but for one of the New York football teams. The Upstate Cosmos, I think.

“Well at least I know the name of my savior now.” I smirk at him regaining some semblance of cool. He shoots me a grin before making his way over to one of the small tables and pouring himself a whiskey.

“Come sit,” Katie squeals, patting the seat next to her.

“I think I need to catch up,” I say with a laugh, settling down in the empty seat.

I pour myself a tequila shot from the bottle on the table and grab a lime.

“Cheers.” I down the liquor, savoring the burn this time and pop the lime into my mouth.

I drop it, now juiceless, in the empty shot glass and laugh as Katie pours herself a drink.

“Theo, show Lila the photos of your place,” Katie orders, as he sits down on her other side.

I wave her off, leaning across her to talk to Theo directly. “How’ve you been? I haven’t seen much of you since the season started.”

“Better now that I have my condo redone. I started showering exclusively in the locker room toward the end there. Of course, without an offer from my favorite blonde, I had no choice.” He shoots me a wink.

I roll my eyes, but can’t help the way my face heats, though it might be more the tequila than the man.

“Oh, don’t bother, Theo, we’re trying to cheer Lila up tonight and you’ll only end up annoying her somehow.” Katie smacks his arm.

Theo gives her a mock pout he’s able to hold for all of three seconds before bursting into laughter. “Fair point. But why are we trying to cheer you up tonight?”

Katie jumps in before I have the chance to respond. “She and Mr. Finance Vest just broke up.”

“We’ll probably get back together, Katie just doesn’t like Dennis much. It’s not a big deal,” I say with a shrug.

“Aww, Kathy, why don’t you like him? I’m sure if Princess here likes him, he can’t be all bad.” Theo lets out a bark of a laugh, drawing Cal’s gaze.

“First of all,” Katie starts, “don’t call me Kathy.

Second, your princess over there has terrible taste in men, so yes, he one hundred percent can be that bad.

Third of all, Dennis lives in New York and frequently finds reasons to not be around or available.

Fourth, they break up every other month?—"

“It is not every other month.”I ignore the tugging memory of an eerily similar conversation earlier this summer at Theo’s rooftop pool.

Theo’s even met Dennis once, demanding to know what I saw in him the moment Dennis excused himself to the restroom.

At this point, each time we hit a rough patch, it’s a hot topic of conversation for the first ten minutes before something new and shiny comes along.

“—Lila pretends she’s fine with it because it’s easier than admitting she’s alone and likes it that way.” She continues like I haven’t spoken.

“I do not—” I break off as Cal joins our group, leaning against the wall next to me.

“What’s this now? It must be interesting if you’re screaming across the club.

” He smirks down at me. God, he’s hot. It’s not cheating to think that right?

No, definitely not cheating. And even if it was, we’re broken up.

I’m just appreciating art, in a way. Cal is art.

He’s dressed casually, in dark jeans tailored perfectly to his broad thighs, hugging his hips as he leans against the wall.

The grey of the shirt brings out the silver of his eyes, making them flash in the pulsing lights of the club.

Theo and Cal are momentarily distracted by a commotion at the DJ table, and I take the time to continue admiring his physique.

“Ow!” I yelp, Katie’s elbow leaving a bruise against my ribs.

“You’re drooling,” she whispers, smirking. I narrow my eyes at her.

Cal refocuses his attention back to me, and I answer his original question. “Nothing, Katie’s just on a mission to get me to appreciate my own happiness as much as her life coach thinks I should.”

Katie cackles, “Sharon hasn’t been wrong yet, you’d do well to follow her advice.”

Theo scoffs, but Cal just raises an eyebrow, “Well, by all means, what’s first on the list?”

I let out a dignified sniff. “I’d rather not waste my time on advice from someone who doesn’t even have a PhD, I’d rather just get another drink.

” I stand, brushing by him with a touch more contact than strictly necessary.

I pour another shot, looking up at Cal to find his intense gaze locked on me.

I smirk at him, holding his gaze while I take the shot, sucking the lime and letting my cheeks hollow.

He swallows visibly, his eyes a swirling dark storm, and I sever the eye contact, allowing myself a small bit of satisfaction.

I turn to my best friend. “Let’s dance.”