Chapter 4 The Blind Date Setup
The Blind Date Setup
Harper
I sit cross-legged at our excuse for a dining table. The coffee maker gurgles in the background, filling the air with that rich, caffeinated promise that maybe I’ll be able to focus on my Constitutional Law assignment today.
Spoiler alert: I cannot focus on my Constitutional Law assignment today.
I’ve been staring at the same paragraph about due process for twenty minutes, but instead of absorbing information about the Fourteenth Amendment, my brain keeps replaying the way Liam’s felt against me.
The way he looked at me in the truck like I was something worth paying attention to.
The way his laugh caught in his throat when I kissed him like I meant it.
Which I did.
Which is a huge problem.
A massive one.
I type a sentence about constitutional protections, backspace, type it again. My fingers seem to have developed a mind of their own, because somehow “legal precedent” becomes “Liam precedent” and I have to resist the urge to bang my head against the table.
“Not happening, Harper,” I mutter to myself, deleting the Freudian slip. “You said no more bad boys with commitment issues. You made rules for a reason.”
And I did make rules. Good rules. Smart rules.
Rules that exist because my last relationship was a perfect lesson in why I shouldn’t trust guys who are too charming for their own good.
Bobby was hot, sexy, all smooth talk and grand gestures right up until I found out he’d been making those same grand gestures with his coworker for the better part of six months.
That’s why I have a very specific type now: stable, predictable, emotionally available men who don’t make my pulse race or my common sense flee the country. Hockey players who look like walking sex ads and kiss like they’re trying to ruin me for other men are the exact opposite of my type.
I’m saved from spiraling further by Maddie breezing through the front door like a caffeinated tornado. She’s still in her workout clothes. Black leggings and a sports bra with her dark hair piled in a messy bun that somehow looks effortlessly chic.
“You look like you need a break,” she announces, setting two lattes on the table. The cups are from that expensive place downtown that I can’t afford but she buys from anyway because she has what she calls “rich parents guilt.”
“Shoot, I just made coffee,” I say, wrapping my hands around the warm cup and inhaling the steam. “But I appreciate this. I’ve been trying to write this paper for an hour, and I think my brain is broken.”
Maddie slides into the chair across from me, studying my face with the kind of intense scrutiny that makes me want to check if I have something in my teeth.
“Okay, what were you about to say?” she asks.
“What?”
“You had that look. Like you wanted to tell me something but you’re second-guessing yourself. What is it?”
I take a long sip of this delicious latte, buying time, but Maddie’s stare is relentless. She’s like a human lie detector when it comes to reading my moods.
“It’s nothing,” I say finally. “Just... maybe I had a little more fun at the party than I expected.”
Her eyes light up like Christmas morning. “Define ‘fun.’”
“The kind of fun you’re thinking.”
“You little shit,” she jokes in a high-pitched voice.
I hesitate, heat creeping up my neck. “One of the hockey players.”
Maddie grins. “Which one?”
“Does it matter?”
“Harper Elisabeth Caldwell, if you don’t tell me which gorgeous athlete you defiled—”
“I didn’t defile anyone!” But I’m laughing. “And how do you know he was gorgeous?”
“Because you’re blushing like a tomato and trying to change the subject.” She leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Was it Liam Murphy?”
My face must give me away because she throws her head back and cackles.
“Oh my God, it was! Tall, cocky grin, thinks God made the world so he could walk through it shirtless?”
I wince at how perfectly she’s described him. “Okay, yes, fine. It was Liam. But before you say anything—”
“Girl.” Maddie holds up a hand. “Liam Murphy is a player. Capital P, italicized, with a trademark symbol.”
I deflate. “Yeah, I know that.”
“Do you? Because you’ve got that starry-eyed look that says you’re already imagining what your babies would look like.”
“I am not—” I start to protest, but she cuts me off.
“He’s got a reputation, Harp. Flirts with everyone, never dates anyone for longer than it takes to order coffee and thrives on being completely unattainable. He’s like... relationship kryptonite.”
I know she’s right. Everything she’s saying aligns perfectly with my first impression of him. But there’s a defensive part of me that wants to argue, to insist that maybe there was something different about him when he was with me.
“It was just one night,” I say instead. “I’m not interested in anything more.”
The look Maddie gives me could win awards for skepticism. “Sure. And I didn’t specifically ditch you at that party so you could have a little fun.”
Wait. “You ditched me on purpose?”
“Come on, Harper. You’ve been in a man-drought for eight months. I saw you making eyes at Mr. Tall, Dark, and Probably-Has-An-STD across the room and figured I’d give you some space to make questionable decisions.”
I scoff. Literally my mouth cannot close at the audacity of this girl. “He doesn’t have an STD!”
She lifts that pointed eyebrow and says, “That you know of.” Then she takes a sip of her latte.
I throw my much needed pen at her. “Are you serious!”
“It’s good that you got back in the saddle with someone like Liam. No strings attached, no messy feelings, just good old-fashioned fun between consenting adults.” She shrugs. “Sometimes we all need a palate cleanser.”
A palate cleanser. That’s what that night was? A temporary lapse in judgment that served its purpose and is now over. The fact that I keep remembering the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room is irrelevant.
“Speaking of getting back out there,” Maddie continues, her tone shifting in a way that immediately puts me on high alert, “you… have a date on Friday.”
I freeze with my latte halfway to my lips. “Excuse me?”
“You had your palette cleanser, and now for moving on. You have a date! Friday night. Seven o’clock.”
I shake my head. “Maddie, what did you do? Why are you intervening in my life like this? I’m totally fine!”
“You’re not fucking fine, Harp. I’m so tired of seeing my cousin mope around while she’s hot and ready.”
“So you set me up on a date? What do you mean?”
“I may have... mentioned to my hook up that night, Sirus, that my cousin is single and looking to meet someone nice.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “He must’ve seen me leaving with Liam.”
She shakes her head. “None of the guys saw him. I was hanging out with them, and they were all like, ‘Where’s Liam? Where did he go?’ Literally no one saw you two leave. So for this date… it definitely won’t be Liam.”
“I never said I was looking to meet someone, Maddie.”
“But you should be. And Sirus has this friend Cole who’s apparently sweet and funny and not at all like the usual hockey meatheads.
” She holds up her hands before I can object.
“It’ll be a double date. Low pressure. If you hate him, you can leave.
But Harper, you need to remember that there are other types of men in the world besides idiot artists who cheat on you. ”
I want to argue. I want to tell her that I’m perfectly fine being single, that I don’t need her meddling in my love life, that I have absolutely zero interest in going on a blind date with some random guy just because she thinks I need to get over myself.
But the truth is, maybe she has a point. Maybe what I need is a reminder that there are normal, stable guys out there. Guys who don’t make me want to throw my carefully constructed rules out the window.
I huff, staring at her. When she gives me a pleading look, I cave.
“Fine,” I hear myself saying. “Friday. But if he’s weird, you owe me tacos for a month.”
Maddie claps her hands together. “Deal! This is going to be so fun. You’re going to love Cole.”
After she leaves for her afternoon classes, I sit alone in the kitchen, staring at my now-cold latte and trying to convince myself that this is a good idea. A safe, sensible guy is exactly what I need right now. Someone who will help me forget about my ex and now those ocean-colored eyes.
I close my laptop and tell myself that nothing would ever come of whatever happened between me and Liam anyway. That’s just wishful thinking, and the honest truth is that it was a hookup. A really, really good hookup that I’m never going to repeat.
Time to move on.
Even if a part of me doesn’t want to.