Page 12 of The Broken Hearts Club

“I’ll pass on hurling projectiles, but I’d love to go for drinks with you and your friends.”

We sat in the cat room talking about the most random stuff for the next hour or so. Finally, I stood up and stretched as I said, “I think I need to head to bed, or I’m going to be pretty useless at the game tomorrow.”

He got up too, smiling at me flirtatiously as he asked, “Want some company?”

It was tempting. He was very cute, but I found myself saying, “Thanks for the offer, but I think we should just keep this as a friendship.”

He looked so dejected that I felt like an asshole. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I knew it was a long shot. You’re way out of my league. I get that.”

“That’s not it at all! I think you’re adorable, and if I was going to hook up with anyone, it’d be you.”

“It’s okay, Miller. I’m used to rejection.”

“But I’m not rejecting you. The truth is, I haven’t been with anyone since my ex and I broke up, and I’m not ready to jump back in the saddle, so to speak.” I hadn’t planned on confessing that, but I couldn’t let Collie think this was about him.

“You don’t mean the ex from eleven months ago, do you? The plastic surgeon? There must have been one or two exes since then.”

“No. Just him.”

“Holy crap, what did that man do to you?”

“It’s a long story.”

Collie said, “Give me the short version.”

“He dumped me two days before our wedding.”

“Fucker!”

I nodded. “That about sums it up.”

“How long were you together?”

“Eight years.”

“Double fucker!” I grinned at that, and he said, “I don’t get it. After eight years with a douche canoe, why aren’t you out screwing all of gay San Francisco, instead of punishing yourself in this self-imposed sex desert?”

It was self-protection, not punishment. But I didn’t want to try to explain that, so I went with, “It’s better this way.”

“Is it?”

“He really hurt me, Collie, and I never want to go through that again. I’m done with relationships, and one-night stands and random hookups were never my thing...”

“So, where does that leave you?”

I broke eye contact and muttered, “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you decide to give the whole friends with benefits thing a try, you know where to find me.” He gave me a hug, which I returned awkwardly. “Good night, Miller.”

“Good night, Collie.”

Once he was gone, I looked at the cat, who was staring at me with wide, unblinking yellow eyes. “I know,” I whispered. “I have issues. Quit judging me.”

We stared each other down for a long moment, and then she got up and hurried after her new best friend. I was tempted to go chasing after him, too.

Instead, I went to bed alone and tried to convince myself this was the right call.

Sex always brought complications with it, and it always made me feel vulnerable. I didn’t want to deal with that, not when I was still trying to piece myself back together.