Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Dahlia
Male bonding is weird as fuck.
I stare at Josh and watch him take another long swig of his beer as his friends Dane, Nate, and Michael, erupt in laughter at his expense.
They’re laughing so loud I can literally feel it in my bones, which is kind of impressive considering I’m sitting on the opposite side of the booth and there’s at least a dozen flatscreens blasting a cacophony of sport sounds at us.
It’s obvious Josh hates the ridicule. He’s clenching his fist and his ears are turning redder and redder as their jeering stretches on, but instead of telling them to stop or trying to change the subject, he just sits there and takes it.
It’s almost hard to watch.
Maybe he’s a masochist?
Or has some kind of humiliation kink?
Either would be pretty surprising considering we’ve been on five dates and he seems as vanilla as my favorite kind of Coke.
Not that there’s anything wrong with vanilla. It’s comforting. Nice. Safe.
Ugh, why does it feel like I’m describing a cozy cottage near a lake?
We haven’t even had sex yet, but I have a feeling there will be little to no orgasms in my near future.
Don’t get me wrong, Josh is handsome. He has this sort of clean-cut, all-American look to him, with his sandy brownish-blonde hair and kind blue eyes that you could easily get lost in. Is he exactly my type? No. But that’s probably a good thing.
As if summoned by my pessimistic thoughts, Josh reaches under the table and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
God, I need to be nicer to him. Josh is a nice guy and could actually be good-for-me.
Who cares if he has terrible friends and the spine of a jellyfish?
At least I know he’d never hurt me. He may not be what I want, but he could be what I need.
And after everything I’ve been through, that has to count for something.
Besides, the man practically worships the ground I walk on and has been bending over backwards to make tonight happen.
I rarely do the whole “meet the friends” thing, but when he showed up at Better Than Fiction unannounced and practically begged me to come out with him and his friends after work, I didn’t have the heart to tell him no.
Apparently, they’ve been giving him shit about making me up and that me “always being busy at my bookstore” was just an excuse to cover up his obvious lie.
While running the shop does keep me busy, I’d be lying if I said that was the only reason I’ve been avoiding them.
The thing is, meeting friends makes things between us more serious. And the minute things get serious, the next expectation is love.
What I feel for Josh isn’t anywhere close to love, and for me, it never will be.
He says he’s okay with that. That he’s willing to take whatever I’ll give him. But that’s what everyone says before they catch feelings and the reality of my damage sinks in.
I stir my pineapple vodka and watch the four of them, feeling disconnected from the whole scene.
Josh’s friends weren’t very attractive to begin with, but they’re all just a touch uglier when they laugh like this. It’s like the features that looked a little wonky on them before, are even more pronounced now.
Dane’s beady eyes are beadier.
Nate’s scrunched up nose is scrunchier.
And Michael’s veiny forehead is veinier.
I stop stirring my drink and freeze.
Shit.
Do I look uglier when I laugh, too?
Goddamnit, now I need to check.
After making sure they’re all still deeply enthralled in their jabbing contest, I flip my compact open under the table and stare at my reflection as I discretely mimic my laughing faces.
Okay, the nose is still nosing…
The teeth are still teething…
The eyes are still eyeing…
“Dahlia… what are you doing?”
The sound of Josh’s voice startles the hell out of me. I snap my compact shut and look up to find him and his friends staring.
“Huh?” I reply automatically, despite the fact that I definitely heard him the first time.
Josh furrows his brow. “I asked what you were doing.”
I swallow and my eyes ping-pong between him and his three friends.
Fuck, I knew coming out with them was a bad idea.
“I uhh… thought I had something stuck in my teeth.” I say, pointing vaguely to my mouth.
Josh cocks his head at me, as do his friends, and warmth rushes up neck. I try to break the awkwardness with a laugh, but Josh doesn’t even crack a smile. He just stares at me.
“Beautiful and funny.” Nate says, squeezing Josh’s shoulder. “No wonder this poor fuck thinks you’re the love of his life.”
The forced smile on my face dies immediately.
What?
Why the hell would he think that?
I look around the table, and Josh’s eyes cut to me so fast it makes my stomach flip. I take in Josh’s expression. He doesn’t look embarrassed or angry. He looks guilty.
The truth punches me in the face.
Josh thinks I’m the love of his life. We’ve only been on five dates and he’s already there. We haven’t even had sex yet, and he’s already there.
This can’t be happening.
I plaster a smile on my face and take another sip of my drink, hoping the act of normalcy will be enough to stop them from scrutinizing my reaction. It works, and their conversations continue, but it doesn’t stop the panic from churning in my stomach.
I grip the edge of my seat to try to ground myself, but it’s no use. And the longer I sit here, the more claustrophobic I feel. I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here. Now.
My legs feel like they’re filled with concrete as I slide out of the booth, but I force them to move, anyway.
“Doll?” Josh calls out, noticing my departure. “Where are you going?”
“Bathroom.” I chirp back. He’s trying to search my face, but I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye.
“Let me show you where it is.” He offers, already sliding his body across the pleather seat.
“I’ll find it.” I reply, waving a hand at him. “Stay with your friends.”
Josh pauses mid-stand, and his brow furrows. “Are you sure—”
“Yeah. I’ll be back.”
Josh frowns as he studies my face, and I can see the muscles working in his throat.
He doesn’t say anything, probably because his friends are paying attention now, but his eyes are begging me not to leave.
His body looks filled with tension as he watches my retreat, and I can tell it’s taking all of his willpower not to chase after me.
One of his friends, Michael, I think, breaks the tension by coughing “simp” under his breath, and the others laugh again.
Josh doesn’t join them. Instead, his eyes stay on me. I can feel them burning into my back, even after I turn and walk away.