2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Parker
Tonight is going to be a freaking disaster. I just know it.
I let out the most annoyed sigh possible, catching my best friend’s gaze.
“It’ll be fun,” Weston says, rolling his eyes. “You need to get out more, Parker. You can’t just sit in your apartment all alone. That’s not healthy for you.”
“Alright, well, first of all,” I begin, taking in a deep breath of freezing New York air and burying my hands deeper into my leather jacket, “I do not just sit around in my apartment all alone. And secondly, I don’t care about going to these single-mingle shenanigans. There are a lot better ways to spend my time.”
“Dude, they’re fun. Just admit it. There are so many interesting people in the city, and you never know when you’ll stumble across someone you really hit it off with. You might find some girl in tech and fall head over heels.”
“Yeah, okay,” I snort, shaking my head. “You know what I usually find at these disastrous events? Girls who just want to hook up—and you know I’m not into that.”
“Neither am I, but it’s not that common. I feel like most of them are looking for someone they connect with.” Weston wraps his coat a little tighter around himself, the tip of his nose reddening. “We all crave connection.”
I let out a sigh. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I? So, let’s just get this over with. I have to work tomorrow.” A sharp breeze blows as we get closer to Newson’s, which is just another hole-in-the-wall dive bar. Don’t get me wrong, I actually love the place...
But not on a night like this.
I stiffen as I see just how crowded the place is. We haven’t even made it inside and I can hear the chatter of the patrons. My eyes drift over the exterior of the building as we reach the door. The brick is painted black, with gaudy Christmas decorations displayed in the windows.
It’s a travesty of a place, really.
“Put a smile on your face, Parker. You look like a grown-up emo kid.”
“Shut up,” I groan as Weston grabs the door handle and holds it open for me. Christmas music plays in the background and the tables are arranged in rows, with women on one side and men on the other .
Why am I doing this to myself?
Oh, that’s right. Because I made a drunken promise to Weston in college that I would always be his wingman.
No matter what.
Which he’s held me to. Every. Day. Since. Whether I like it or not...
“Dang, there aren’t any open chairs next to each other,” Weston says, sounding a little disappointed. “Guess we’re gonna have to do this one on our own.”
“Think I’ll just go home.” I spin around to face the door, but he stops me, grabbing my forearm.
“Don’t be a Scrooge.”
“Christmas is over,” I grunt before letting out a sigh. “But alright, fine. You owe me for this.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow or something. Now get a drink and go sit down.”
I do exactly as he says, grabbing a beer from the bartender and making my way to one of the empty chairs on the men’s side. I’ve done the speed dating thing with Weston before, and the only positive is that you don’t have to be with each date for very long.
“We’ll begin in two minutes,” the facilitator calls over the microphone.
“Whoo hoo!” a woman shrieks in excitement, and I whip my head in the direction of the sound. My eyes land on a petite brunette dressed in a black sweater and light-wash jeans. Her heart-shaped face is beaming, and the smile beneath her slender nose has me questioning the woman’s sanity...
And everyone else seems to be eyeing her in the same way.
As gorgeous as she is, she’s acting way too excited for this.
“Hi, you can sit here.” A voice much closer cuts into my thoughts.
I look down to see a blonde wearing a name tag that says Brenda on it.
“Okay, Brenda,” I reply, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. I grab the blank name tag on the table and consider writing a fake name but instead write out Parker in chunky letters.
The last thing I need is for someone to think I have a decent sense of humor .
My eyes drift back to the woman who’s over-the-top psyched, and she must feel my gaze on her because she suddenly looks right at me. Man, talk about some eyes. Her baby blues are a light icy shade—and it takes me a hair too long to pull my gaze away.
But I do.
Because despite how stunning she is, I can already tell she’s a handful.
“Okay, let’s begin,” a voice calls over the PA. I turn to see a man in his mid-thirties, looking thrilled to be up there. “Usually, we do sixty seconds, but tonight, we’re feeling generous. So, each table gets five minutes, and then the men will shift to the left. Women, you get to stay where you’re at. ”
“Let’s go!” The overly excited brunette pumps her fist into the air.
I nearly burst into laughter.
Who is this girl?
The buzzer rings, snapping me out of my thoughts—and I have to be courteous, so I turn my attention back to Brenda. “So...”
“So...” she begins, biting her thin lower lip. “I just came tonight because I had nothing better to do, and we get one free drink.”
“I get that,” I say with a smile. “The free drink is nice.”
“Yeah, for sure.”
“Yep.” I drum my fingers on the table, not really caring that it’s starting to feel awkward. That’s what these things are: awkward .
But man, I can’t stop staring at the woman across the room.
She’s a good ten spots away, but the way she talks and looks at the man at her table tells me everything I need to know. She’s really into this whole thing, her chin resting on her hands and a gleam in her eye.
She’d probably get along nicely with Weston.
Speaking of, I glance around the room, spotting him waggling his eyebrows at a redhead across the table. She’s blushing and laughing, and I already know that he’ll probably get her number.
That’s what he does.
And then it never works out past one or two dates.
We eventually fill the silence—by talking about the weather.
“Time’s up!”
Thank goodness .
I give Brenda a nod and move to the next chair. She doesn’t really pay me any attention, her eyes already fixed on the gruff hipster taking my place. He must be more her type or something. I don’t mind, though, because I’m too busy watching the mystery woman on the other side of the room who’s seemingly drooling over every man that sits across from her...
And it’s just as intriguing as it is painfully hilarious.
I can’t wait to get to that one.
After fifty brutal minutes of making my way through a bunch of women, most of them doing the majority of the talking, some just sitting there awkwardly attempting small talk, I’m finally pulling out the chair in front of the woman I’ve had my eyes on all night...
“I’m Amy.” She beams, a bright smile on her face. However, it doesn’t exactly reach her eyes.
“Rough night?” I ask, running my fingers through my blond hair. “You don’t look nearly as excited as you did when this thing started.”
“I just haven’t felt a connection with anyone,” she admits. “But it only takes one to make a lifetime.”
I swallow the chuckle threatening to slip out. “Uh, I guess so.”
Honestly, Amy is even prettier up close, with freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and plump natural lips.
“How’s your night going?” she asks. “Have you met anyone special?”
I blink a couple of times. “Um, no. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone special at one of these things. ”
Her brows furrow. “Wait, you’ve never had any success at these events before? Do you come to them often?”
“I’d prefer not to attend these events at all, but my buddy seems to drag me to more of them than I care to admit. I don’t think they work.”
An intrigued expression flashes across her face. “So, if that’s what you really think, why don’t you just sit with those guys?” Amy gestures to a group of about five guys hovering around the bar instead of partaking in the event.
I give her a thoughtful look. “I guess I didn’t think about that. Next time, I’ll keep that in mind. Anything to get out of spending five minutes of misery—”
“You’re being really negative.” She raises a brow. “Why?”
“Are you a therapist?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest and leaning back against the chair.
“No, I work in marketing.”
“That makes sense,” I quip.
“Excuse me?” Her mouth drops. “Why would you say that?”
“Just your ... overwhelming aura. Are you new to the city? Or just new to these events?”
Amy pauses, and her silence gives her answer away—but I still wait for it.
“I’m new to both,” she finally says. “But I think New York is the city of opportunity, and so many cool people live here. I’m bound to connect with one and finally get my own love story.”
I grimace. “Maybe you should see a ther—”
The buzzer cuts me off.
Dang, already?
I push back from my chair, somewhat disappointed.
“I’ll find love,” she says, looking up at me. “I know I will.”
I tap the table. “Well, good luck with that, Amy. This city eats women like you alive. Don’t try too hard.”
She looks mortified by my comment, but it’s the truth. The movies make this place out to be magical, but I’ve lived here most of my life...
And the city has a way of sucking romanticism right out of a person.
I spend the rest of the evening trying my hardest not to listen to Amy’s obnoxious laughter—and the only reason it’s obnoxious is because I can tell that it’s forced. Whatever joke some dude cracks, no matter how horrible it is, she still laughs.
And I don’t even know why I’m paying any attention to it right now.
“Well, this was an interesting crowd.” Weston chuckles as the event ends. “The lonely come out the day after Christmas.”
“No kidding,” I snort, my eyes searching the sea of people exiting the building. Some are leaving together—probably to hook up—and others are walking out alone .
Which is exactly what Amy is doing.
“She was interesting.” I gesture to her from a good ten feet back, turning to Weston. “But she tried way too hard.”
Weston tilts his head. “Really? I thought she was nice. She’s definitely not my type, but she was one of the few women here who offered a genuine conversation. I think she’s the kind of person who might actually find love at one of these events. She knew the right questions to ask, and she seemed to be legitimately interested in what I had to say.”
“Hmm. I did not get that vibe.” I shake my head. “She sorta seemed like the type of woman who would marry the first guy who gave her attention.”
Weston grimaces. “You’re such a jerk. Just because you don’t believe in love doesn’t mean someone else can’t find it. There are plenty of people who have long-lasting, beautiful relationships. You just haven’t had the privilege of being around it. My parents have been together for nearly forty years.”
“Yeah, and they probably secretly hate each other,” I suggest, shrugging my shoulders.
“Like I said, you’re a cynic.”
I take a deep breath, a mixture of past feelings welling up in my chest. I push them away. “Yeah, I guess I am a cynic.”