3. Chapter 3
Dane
Without warning, I’m assaulted from the side by the most beautiful paradox I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Daria runs face first into my shoulder, her hands going to my side to steady herself.
Something inside me snaps into place at the warmth of her touch, but I shove the feeling down deep and step back once she’s found her footing.
“Well, this is a first,” I say with a smile, hoping she’ll remember her words from over a year ago.
“What?”
Okay . She obviously doesn’t.
I narrow my eyes a bit as I tilt my head. “I’ve never been assaulted while walking to the restroom before.”
Her pillowy lips part, opening and closing as if she’s unsure of what to say next.
Bingo .
Obviously unsettled, she backs into Jamie stepping out of the bathroom.
“Oof.” Both girls share a breathy laugh as they right themselves. “Oh, good. You guys are getting acquainted.” Jamie grins as her attention flits back and forth between us. “Now that I’ve got you both here, I wanted to ask you a favor.”
My brother’s fiancée places a hand on each of our arms. Her touch is tender and innocent, just like her. Jamie’s not only been amazing for Parker, but she’s a genuine sweetheart. There’s very little she could ask me that I wouldn’t do.
“So, now that the wedding is next weekend, I think it’s safe to share my surprise for Parker with both of you.”
I side-eye Daria, wondering what she’s thinking right now.
“I want to sign From This Moment On to Parker as I walk down the aisle toward him.” Jamie’s expression is so sincere I can’t help but admit that my heart wells with gratitude for the way she loves my brother.
“That is the sweetest ,” Daria says, placing a hand over her heart as if it aches.
Does it? There’s a wistfulness in her tone that’s at odds with the way her eyebrows pull together like she’s in pain. Maybe there’s a bit of lingering jealousy or distrust of Parker and Jamie’s relationship on her end. I don’t know, but something about her reaction tells me she’s feeling…something.
“What I need you guys to do,” Jamie continues, oblivious to Daria’s reaction, “is throw Parker off the trail if he suspects something and asks you. We’ve been together non-stop the past few weeks, and it’s been ridiculously hard to practice the signs without him seeing.”
“Noted,” I say with a reassuring smile. “If he asks, I know nothing.”
Jamie grins. “Perfect.”
Daria crosses her arms and cocks an eyebrow. “So this is why I’ve been hearing that song on repeat until midnight the past few days.”
Jamie’s cheeks pink and she dips her head. “Guilty.”
Daria’s expression softens. “Well, I think it’s precious, and Parker will love it. If he asks me anything, I’ll throw him off the scent.”
“Oh, also.” Jamie turns to me. “I may need you to set up the sound system at Theodore’s for the ceremony. When I asked him about it, he said you knew how to run everything from the party you organized there last year.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Daria stiffen but choose not to wonder at her reaction. Party may be a stretch to describe the charitable fundraiser I helped Theo host at this lakeside mansion last year, but she’s right. I did emcee the event and set up the sound system.
“Sure, I can do that,” I tell Jamie. After all, I was the one who introduced her to Theo, even suggesting to him that he offer up his place for Jamie and Parker’s wedding.
And he did, gladly. I think my socially awkward billionaire bachelor friend is just glad his gorgeous property is going to be used for something special.
“Great!” Jamie beams. “I want to run through it beforehand, too, just to make sure there’s no technical issues on the day of. Think we can do that the day before? Without your brother knowing?”
I nod and give her a smile. “Absolutely. I’ll make sure he’s busy whenever you want to practice.”
“Awesome.” Jamie releases a breath. “I appreciate your guys’ help with everything since we’re on a budget.”
“Seriously, it’s no problem,” I say. “Whatever you need to pull this off, just let me know and I’m your guy.”
Daria hums, and it almost sounds disgruntled.
I’m clearly focusing on her and her reactions way too much to be normal. It can’t be helped, though. From the moment I ran into her at that party last year, she’s captivated me like no woman ever has. Maybe I just need to put some space between us.
“If that’s all, I’ll just…” I let my words trail off and point to the restroom.
“Oh, sure, yeah.” Jamie waves me on. I dip my chin to them both before walking away, but my thoughts keep drifting to the dark-haired beauty whose touch reached inside and forced my heart to pay attention.
Once I’m in the bathroom, I stare at my reflection in the mirror, questioning again why she hates me so much.
It probably makes me sound like a sap, but I lied awake some nights wondering about her.
For months in between our first and second meeting, I wracked my brain, trying to guess where I went wrong for her not to have contacted me.
Finding out she was Jamie’s roommate sent a familiar fear racing through me, and I wondered if I’d made the same mistake as before.
Having a stalker will do that to you. But when I quickly found that she hated me for giving her my real first name instead of the one I’m commonly called, I realized wanting to break into my apartment to watch me sleep was probably the last thing on her mind.
Relief and disappointment mixed together to create this cocktail of unease that’s taken up residence in my stomach ever since.
Every interaction we have is laced with her disdain and my confusion, made even more awkward by our haunting mutual attraction.
Even though she tries to pretend it’s not there, it hovers between us.
Well, if she can pretend, I can too.
I don’t have to let my eyes linger on her long dark hair or big brown eyes. I can ignore the way her golden skin shimmers in the sun and the way her honey-vanilla smell wraps around me like a summer breeze…
At least, that’s what I tell myself I’ll do as I swear not to get involved with Daria. One who’s as beautiful and alluring as she is mean and sassy. I don’t need drama in my life. And if this lunch has proven anything, it’s that Daria Dantez is full of it.
Parker saunters into our living room with a smile plastered to his face like he’s floating on a cloud. He sinks down onto the opposite end of the couch, a contented sigh leaving him as he does. He can’t even hear himself do it, yet it still annoys me. Guess maybe I envy his perpetual good mood.
He’s been this way for months—ever since he and Jamie made it official.
And I get it. He’s in love with his best friend.
I’m stoked that my baby brother found the one woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with, but it kind of sucks to know I’ll be back to being a solo bachelor in just a few weeks.
Old feelings rise to the surface every time I think about how I’ll feel once my brother moves out.
The kind of feelings that spurred me to go to that stupid party where I met Daria last year.
Lonely feelings. Desperate feelings. Feelings that I need to force out before I do something similar that I’ll come to regret later.
Something like falling into the trap of wondering where I went wrong with the girl I thought was perfect for me after only one chance meeting and a single conversation.
Our encounter from last week replays in my head, and I grimace.
She hates me. Can’t stand me. Never texted for whatever reason and isn’t into me that way. I need to let it go. And more than that, I need to blow off some steam.
Parker grabs his laptop out from under the couch and powers it on. I slap his arm, harder than necessary because that’s how we roll, and sign, “I’m heading to the gym. Need anything while I’m out?”
He purses his lips to the side for a second, thinking, then shakes his head no.
Before I even get off the couch, his focus is back to whatever story he’s penning.
The guy’s got talent, I’ll give him that.
I rarely read fiction, but when your little brother writes a novel, you read it.
And to say I was impressed with his debut novel was an understatement.
It’s no surprise he won a contract nor that they signed him for two more books in the same genre.
Unlike my brother, my creative bone is withered.
My muscle mass, however, is on point. So that’s where I focus my effort.
I mean, why not? It’s not like I’ve got a girlfriend to pass the time with while I’m off work, and I have no other hobbies, other than my real estate side gig and the occasional autobiography, to interest me.
Besides, the only way to keep my body running the way I like it to is by working out consistently with the same rigid schedule I’ve kept for the past two years. My two brothers, Parker and Logan, both give me grief over how much time I spend in the gym, but they don’t get it.
It keeps me on track. Focused. Healthy. And it makes me feel like a normal person when my tendencies start to spiral out of control.
Already dressed in my gym shorts and T-shirt, I head for the fridge. I grab my water bottle and the keys from the hook beside the door, then I’m jogging down the steps that lead outside.
We live just a few blocks from the gym, and I always walk the same route to get there. I stop at all the same streets, touch all the same brick corners, and avoid the familiar cracks along the way.
Because I have to .
Dad calls me a creature of habit, and Logan says I’m too particular, only wanting things a certain way.
Mom gets frustrated when my tendencies take over and cause me to be late or hold me back from having the sort of thriving social life she thinks I should have, but not even she understands the depth of my routines.
Parker’s really the only one who knows I can’t function without following the same patterns day in and day out since they didn’t become as obsessive until I hit my twenties. There are things about me that I know annoy him, but he manages around them with a decent attitude most of the time.
My tendencies aren’t something I broadcast to others, not even to members in my family. It’s not a good look when you reveal to a friend or partner there are certain aspects to your personality that will inevitably annoy and overwhelm them.
And that’s—in part—why I’m still single.
Well, that and the bad luck I’ve had with women the past few years.
After the stalking fiasco, my obsessive tendencies kicked into overdrive and paralyzed me from pursuing a relationship with anyone.
I do see a therapist on a regular basis now to help me control my idiosyncrasies, but whenever I mentally go back to that time in my life, my anxiety rises and so do my rituals.
The corner where the brick is starting to wear away comes up ahead, and I brush my hand along the jagged piece that cuts inward.
Like always. I pass the frozen yogurt shop on my right and move to the left of the chalkboard sign to avoid tripping over it.
Like always. And when I get to the door of the twenty-four-hour gym I frequent, I grab the right door with my right hand because that’s just the only way to do it.
As soon as I step into the gym’s lobby, a blast of cool air hits my face.
“Hey, you.” The feminine voice causes me to look to my left. Stacey, the receptionist who works here part time, greets me with a smile.
“Hey, Stace. How’s it going?” I always make polite conversation with the gym staff.
I’m one of those guys who probably looks like an extrovert on the surface because I’m outgoing in social situations, but I’m more the opposite.
Being around people for too long stresses me out.
Stacey doesn’t know that, though. She just giggles and flirts like usual, and once again, invites me out to party with her and her friends.
“Not tonight,” I say in a placating tone. “But I appreciate the invite.” I wave to her as I head toward the locker room.
“Okay, Charles, but one day I’m gonna get you to come out with us.” Her voice carries across the lobby, and I cringe. It’s not that Stacey isn’t sweet and beautiful. She definitely is. But she flirts with other guys too, and it makes me think she’s not looking for anything serious.
And I’m not interested in that. Not anymore.
I’m almost thirty. Dating just to have fun doesn’t appeal to me like it once did.
If a relationship doesn’t come with commitment, trust, and companionship for the long haul, it’s not something I want.
My parents’ relationship has never been perfect, but the trust and friendship they have with one another is unmatched.
Their love and commitment runs deep—so deep that having a son who couldn’t hear or communicate with them like their other children never shook their foundation.
They grew stronger through their trials, leaning on each other and coming out better than before.
They almost seem more in love now than they did when we were kids.
I want that. Someone I can trust. Someone I can confide in. Someone I can love and grow old with. Someone with character who wants the same things.
An image of Daria on the night I met her comes unbidden to my mind. She interested me. She still does, if I’m honest, even with her perpetual bad attitude. Jamie talks her up like she’s the smartest, wittiest person alive, which doesn’t help my curiosity.
Realizing where my mind went, I grit my teeth.
I have got to get a grip on my thoughts.
As soon as I make it to the locker room, I throw my bag in locker twelve, as usual, and put in my headphones. If breaking a sweat by lifting weights doesn’t rid the woman from my mind, then I’ll hit the treadmill too. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll do crunches, lunges, whatever it takes.
When I’m finished with my first set, sweating like a beast and still obsessing over the beautiful, brown-eyed beauty who hates my guts, I realize it’s going to be a long night.