Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Alex: That’s what I’m for.
I stop texting without clicking Send. Then I feel Julian grinning at me. He’s got a proud look on his face. Not just happy, but like he’s personally accomplished something.
“Why do you look so pleased with yourself?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I’m considering a career change.”
“Is there not enough money in psychology?”
“I’ve got a new calling… call me Cupid.”
“What did you do, Julian?”
“Don’t get that tone. You look like a kid on Christmas morning. You should be thanking me. You’re happy; this is it. This is your night.” He’s speaking in the grandiose way of a cheerfully drunk man.
“Explain.”
“A certain bar owner may or may not have asked me for your cellphone number… because she may or may not have noticed a degree of chemistry between you and a certain lady… and now, a certain chief of surgery might be texting like a teenager falling in love…”
I let out a laugh, a mixture of relief and pure joy.
So it is Tori… I was almost certain already, but knowing for sure is good.
“Her friend was in on the game too. The spunky redhead. Why don’t we go and talk to them both?”
I realize I’m smiling. It feels good. I’m letting go.
Then my pager goes off.
Julian throws his hands up when he sees me take it from my pocket. “You brought that thing with you?”
“I bring it everywhere with me,” I say, instantly becoming colder, more robotic. “I’m needed for a surgery consultation.”
Dammit. I want to talk to Tori some more. It’s like fate is slapping me with a reminder why my quest to find love—Julians’ right, there’s always been a quest even if I try to ignore it—is doomed.
“Sorry,” I say, standing. “I can’t ignore this. Obviously.”
“No, I get it.” Julian sighs. “God damn you, Alex. Now go and save somebody’s life.”
I look over at Tori one last time. She’s got her phone in one hand. With the other, she’s twisting her hair around her finger as I walk away.
CHAPTER 7
TORI
Keep it casual, Tori…
That means ignoring the pang of defeat I feel when the silver fox abruptly stands up and leaves the bar. He strides across the room quickly, like he wants to get out of here, away from me, as fast as he possibly can.
“Oh,” Cleo says.
“Oh, what?” I snap, full of anger. I’m aiming it at the wrong person.
Who am I annoyed with? Him for leaving, or myself for caring?
“I thought things were going well between you two,” she mutters.
“It might not have even been him,” I say.
But the idea feels foolish after how specific our texts got. Plus, he was smoldering at me across the bar like he wanted to tear my clothes off. Nobody’s ever looked at me like that before. It made his comments about being cold and unromantic seem silly.
“It was him,” Cleo replies. “Look, Rowan approached me and asked if I thought it was a good idea if she matched your number with his. She confirmed his number with his friend— the one with the cheekbones at the bar. The one who keeps eyeing me up?” She raises her hand, waving at him.
He grins and snaps off a cocky salute.
“Why would Rowan do that?” I ask, not really wanting an answer.
“She must’ve sensed you were soulmates,” Lily says with a sigh.
“Nope. She smelled the sexual tension a mile off,” Cleo chimes in.
“So it definitely was him,” I say.
“Are you mad?” Cleo ask.
“No,” I admit. “Well – a little since he’s stormed off.”
“Maybe he has a good excuse. You should call him,” Cleo suggests.
“So much for keeping it casual, then…” I mutter.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Lily agrees. “Call him. Beg him to come back.”
“Beg him to come back?” Cleo repeats in disgust. “Somebody steal the girl’s sangria!”
“Okay, not beg, then,” Lily says.
“I’m not calling anyone. I’ll text him.”
“Tell him you want to go for a late-night walk on the beach,” Lily suggests.
“I’m going to be sick if she keeps being this bright and happy,” Cleo mutters sarcastically.
“It would be nice, Cleo. And please, don’t say something like ‘only if they have some rumpy bumpy in the sand’ or anything equally gross,” Lily pleads.
“Don’t worry, my sweet Liliana. There’s no danger of me ever saying ‘rumpy bumpy’ in my life.”
I chew my cheek for a moment, wondering.
It would kind of be nice to meet him for a walk, but he left. I don’t even know his name.
“Remember.” Cleo nudges me. “Tonight isn’t about overthinking or worrying about tomorrow. It’s about living in the moment. So live, Tori.”
Before I can text him, my phone goes off. The flood of excitement is similar to the wave that hits me when an audience applauds at one of my performances. Sure, it hasn’t happened loads of times, but that just makes the feeling more addictive.
Flirting with a man? That’s even rarer. I thought I’d lost him.