Prologue
PROLOGUE
MISTER CASUAL
Nate
Sure, I like to play the field—the one with grass and yard lines and goalposts.
The dating field?
Um, I’ve got a few questions.
How does it even work anymore? Do I know the latest lingo and, well, the moves?
Also, ahem, are most guys still into that thing?
C’mon. You know.
That thing.
Don’t make me spell it out.
I’ve been on the sidelines for the last three years—the equivalent of ten lifetimes in modern dating. But long enough to learn my lesson. Love can go wrong in a million ways but it almost always goes wrong.
Romance can fuck all the way off.
That ring? It’s in a dumpster somewhere. The marriage certificate? Shredded, right along with my heart.
I don’t want someone who promises to love me forever.
A rebound though? That sounds more my speed. If only I weren’t so rusty.
So I do what any pro baller does before a big game. I study the playbook. I review the moves. I get up to speed thanks to, well, the Internet.
Note to self: guys do still like that thing .
And when I’m ready, Dude Luck smiles on me the first time I venture out. I meet a guy who wants the same damn thing I do. He’s horny and he’s leaving town tonight. He’s perfect for this new me.
Just call me Mister Casual. But of course, that didn’t work out.