Chapter One
Kristina
Are you experiencing relationship woes?
Do you keep hearing, “It’s not you, it’s me?”
Well, maybe it is you.
Inject the magic back into your relationships,
Message me now.
Kristina Malmon stared at the message that had been typed onto a glossy leaflet. She didn’t know which idiot was responsible for pinning it to the graduate notice board, but she didn’t appreciate the sentiment.
Pulling the flier from the corkboard, she grasped it in her hands, her brow furrowing as her eyes swept over its message again.
“Maybe it is you?” she repeated, shaking her head.
If the owner of the leaflet intended to offer relationship guidance, she hoped they had better interpersonal skills than their choice of vocabulary suggested.
“Everything okay, Kris?” Cindy Bachelor interrupted Kris’ lingering disdain, and shoving the card into her jacket pocket, she spun to face her friend.
“Yeah.” Kris smiled. “I’m just musing on the audacity of some people.”
Some men…
She had no way of knowing the card had been put there by a guy, but she’d have put money on the fact that it had been. Only a man could have offered such a callous critique.
“Uh-oh.” Cindy cringed. “What did Shaun say this time?”
“I haven’t heard from that sniveling idiot since the last message I showed you.” Kris hoped her bravado shone through, and not the crushing sense of rejection Shaun’s radio silence had provoked in private.
They’d only been dating for a couple of months, but she thought they’d shared a connection, and the way he’d gaslighted her hurt more than she was prepared to admit.
“He still hasn’t been in touch?” Cindy’s knitting brows conveyed how dreadful Shaun’s non-response was.
“No.” Sighing, Kris turned from the board. “I guess he’s showing me how he feels in his own stunted way.”
“Yeah, but to not even message you…” Cindy blew out a breath. “What a jerk.”
“Quite.” Kris ignored the stab of pain Shaun’s dismissal had ignited. “I guess I’m moving on to bigger and better things.”
“Like the leaflet you just pocketed?” Cindy’s tone was wry. “Is that someone you’re interested in?”
“What? God, no!” Kris spat, sinking her hand into her pocket to produce the offending article. “I’m removing this to save other people’s feelings. Consider it a public service.”
Flicking the flier between her fingers, she flashed it in front of her friend.
“Inject the magic into your relationships?” Cindy sneered. “Who the hell would put a message like that up around here?”
She glanced around the study hall as though she expected the guilty party to come forward.
“God knows.” Kris peered down at the card again. “But I’m not leaving it up to upset someone else. In fact, I might message the bastard and give them a piece of my mind.”
“Good idea!” Cindy snorted. “The fewer of these so-called relationship gurus we have around, the better.”
***
It was hours later when Kris found the leaflet again. Staggering into her student house after two too many glasses of wine, her fingers grazed over its hard edges when she pushed her hand into her pocket.
Slamming the door closed with her foot, she tugged the flier free and once again found herself staring at its goading words.
“What kind of a prick wrote this?” she hissed, flicking her shoes against the small mountain of footwear growing in the hall. “I bet he has his head shoved up his ass.”
Hanging her jacket up on the rack, she grabbed the leaflet and her purse and headed for the stairs.
Bed beckoned. It was gone eleven, and she had a nine o’clock lecture the next morning, but before her head hit her pillow, the alcohol coursing around her system taunted her to act, to tell the architect of the leaflet how she felt about their distasteful circular.
“No,” she muttered, climbing the stairs on her hands and knees. “He could be a freaking psycho.”
Or just someone else who ignores you.
She halted at the snide remark, her thoughts returning to Shaun. It had been two days since she’d asked to see him again, and the moron hadn’t even got back to her.
“Bastard,” she mumbled, turning the corner at the top of the staircase. “They’re all bastards.”
Lurching down the landing, she attempted to be quiet so as not to disturb her housemates, but she found every creaking floorboard en route.
Stopping into the bathroom to empty her bladder, the idea of messaging Shaun surfaced again, and sitting on the toilet, she scooped her phone from her purse and played with a few ideas.
Hey, jackoff. How’s things?
She stared at her phone, fuming at his arrogance, and deleted the words she’d typed, replacing them with the next line that leapt into her head.
How dare you ignore me! Her fingers shook with anger as she typed.
I’m a woman. I deserve to be treated with respect.
Placing her phone on the edge of the basin, she flushed the toilet and washed her hands, her attention fixed on the small screen the entire time.
She preferred the feel of the second draft, but the impending pounding in her head warned her of repercussions if she sent it.
“I shouldn’t be the first to give in.” She gazed at herself in the mirror, tired blue eyes reflecting at her.
What had happened to her?
She never used to be the sort of woman who hung on a guy’s reply, but the older she got, and the more she saw her friends pair off into blissful coupledom, the more frantic she was about being single.
“Delete it,” she instructed herself. “I don’t want to give that bastard anymore ammunition to hold against me.”
She should have deleted his whole contact, but that seemed a step too far, so, brushing her teeth, she made do with erasing her message instead.
“Get a grip, Kris.” Running her fingers through her dark blonde hair, she switched on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. “I’m in my twenties, not my forties. There’s no rush to find Mr. Right.”
If he even fucking exists.
She rolled her eyes, regretting the gesture when the room around her started to sway. Based on the dicks she’d dated so far, she doubted the idea of a dream man was real, but she was still young enough to hold onto hope.
“Bedtime.” The words were like a sigh. “I’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”
She scooped to collect her possessions, spotting the leaflet she’d pulled from the noticeboard. Eyeing the wording all over again, she perched on the edge of the tub as she contemplated disregarding her own advice.
She should have been getting well-needed rest, and after all the alcohol she’d consumed, she definitely shouldn’t have been messaging strangers, but denying herself the satisfaction of chasing Shaun meant the thought lingered. Maybe the owner of the flier might be the next best dopamine hit.
Turning the leaflet over in her fingers, she ran her digits over the smooth surface.
“I bet you’re a man.” She held it up toward the bathroom light.
Kris didn’t know much about graphic design, but the paper was thick, silky, and a good weight.
It wouldn’t have been cheap to produce the leaflets in bulk.
That suggested its owner had a bank balance to match his ego.
“And even if you’re well-meaning, your messaging sucks, Mister. ”
Lowering the flier, she smiled, already knowing what she should do. If she’d been thinking straight, she’d have tossed the paper in the bin and gone straight to bed.
So, why wasn’t she?
“Because toying with you is about the only interesting thing in my life right now.”
She shook her head at the depressing analysis. Sure, she adored her postgraduate work, and she had a lovely group of friends, but there was little genuine excitement. That’s what she’d hoped Shaun would be, but he’d turned out to be another disappointment.
Stooping to find a coin from her purse, she flicked the metal into the air, sending it spinning.
“Heads, I message you, tails, I don’t!” she declared, watching as the coin hit the tiles below and rolled off under the basin.
“Shit,” she spat, balancing the leaflet on the edge of the bathtub as she fell to her knees and searched for her answer.
Gleaming in a shard of light coming from the bathroom’s unflattering strip lighting, she spotted the coin and grasped for it in the dust. Dragging the metal toward her, her focus fell to learn her fate, her lips tugging at its solution.
“Good call.”
Leaning against the bottom of the basin, she found her phone and took the coin’s advice, only pausing to plug the unknown number into the device.
“Take that, asshole.”
Hoisting herself to her feet, she collected her purse and peered back at herself in the mirror. She might not have had the opportunity to tell Shaun what she thought of his behavior, but she’d more than communicated that to the leaflet’s owner.
Whenever he next looked at his phone, he wouldn’t know what had hit him.