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“Okay,” he said, but as he headed into the adjoining bathroom, he had a sinking feeling that their friendship would never be the same.
An amazing night with Dylan, followed by his morning-after rejection, devastated Serena. He’d shattered her heart into a thousand pieces, and it hurt to breathe. Not to mention the embarrassment and humiliation she’d felt after baring herself, physically and emotionally, to the one person she’d trusted the most.
The most awful, painful part of it all? She’d honestly had no idea what heartbreak really felt like until that moment, because her feelings for Dylan were by far the strongest she’d ever felt for any man.
As she heard the shower in the bathroom turn on, Serena ran her fingers through her disheveled hair and forced herself to get out of the bed and start moving, so she’d be gone before he came back out, because there was nothing left for them to say and it would undoubtedly be awkward for both of them. But as she slipped into the dress she’d worn last night, there was only one thought that kept replaying through her mind . . . How could she have been so wrong about his feelings for her?
Clearly, she’d misinterpreted the entire night and she felt foolish and stupid for believing he’d ever see her as anything more than a best friend, or that a night of sex with her would change the way he saw her. His words, it was a mistake, had made her stomach roll, but had also been the wake-up call she apparently needed to realize that she’d been deluding herself, holding on to hope she hadn’t even realized she’d had, that someday he’d admit his true feelings for her.
So, she was forced to swallow her hurt and her pride and finally accept that Dylan was never going to fall in love with her and it was useless to wait or hope. There was truly only one thing left she could do, and that was to lock up her hopes, dreams, and unrequited feelings for Dylan in the furthest reaches of her heart and keep searching for the one guy who would love and appreciate her and give her all the things that Dylan never would.
8
The knock on Serena’s apartment door signaled the arrival of her date, a new guy she’d been seeing for the past two weeks who she’d invited to join her for Trivia Night at the local pub . . . mostly because she wasn’t ready to deal
with Dylan alone after the disastrous way things had ended between them in Vegas over three weeks ago. Her heart was still feeling battered and bruised, and she was trying to get on with her life now that she knew her feelings for Dylan would never be reciprocated.
They’d agreed that they were “fine,” but the truth was, Serena hadn’t been the same since then, and neither had their friendship, and for the first time in the year and a half that they’d been attending the monthly game night together as trivia partners, she wasn’t going with Dylan. Instead, she was taking a date.
As for the man she was about to greet on her doorstep who’d be accompanying her, she’d known Grant for a while. He worked part-time as a barista at a nearby coffee shop where she stopped in the mornings for her cup of coffee on her way to work, and he’d always greeted her with a charming smile and a flirty comment. He’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask her out, and how was a girl able to resist the kind of cute message he’d written on her paper cup that was the only thing that had made her truly smile since that fateful night with Dylan?
In black marker, his neat handwriting had said, If you’re single, I’m available, followed by his cell phone number. Making the decision to text Grant later that evening hadn’t been an easy one, but with her vow to start fresh and with an open mind about men other than Dylan, she’d started a conversation with Grant, and over the course of the past few weeks, she’d grown to really like him and enjoy his company.
He was intelligent and a bit nerdy, which she found endearing, even if those traits did remind her of Dylan. He was also very motivated when it came to what he wanted in life and for his future. Currently, he was working as a barista in the mornings while in the afternoons and evenings, he focused on finishing up the dissertation for his master’s degree in psychology. His weekends were spent at a nonprofit mental health clinic as a social worker. He didn’t have much free time in his schedule, but when he did, like tonight, he was more than willing to spend it with her.
Grant was respectful, easygoing with a great sense of humor, attentive and affectionate when they were together, and came from a close-knit family with a dozen nieces and nephews he seemed to adore. So far, there hadn’t been any huge warning signs flashing at her, and she was determined to stay positive and enjoy her evening out with him at the pub.
She opened the door and Grant greeted her with a smile and a bouquet of pretty daisies. He was a good-looking guy with dark brown, neatly trimmed hair and light blue eyes that sparkled behind the black-rimmed glasses he wore. He was a few inches shorter than Dylan, and much leaner, his chest not as defined or broad . . . and God, she had to stop making comparisons between the two because there was no future with Dylan, so it no longer mattered how attractive he’d always been to her.
Once Grant stepped inside her apartment, he held the flowers out to her. “I saw these and thought of you.”
She took the lovely blooms from him, easily adding considerate to his list of attributes. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“No, you’re the beautiful one,” he said, brushing a soft, sweet kiss against her lips, with no expectation of anything more than that chaste peck—because he was a gentleman, she told herself.
There was no zing or spark or wild urge to tear Grant’s clothes off and jump his bones. And yes, they’d already kissed with tongue, which had been nice and pleasant enough, but lacked the crazy hot chemistry she’d had with Dylan in Vegas, and she’d pretty much resigned herself to the fact that she might not ever find that kind of intense passion again. It was a sad realization, but an honest one, too.
She went to the kitchen and put the daisies in a vase with water so they wouldn’t wilt. Once that was done, she turned back to face Grant, who was standing a few feet away, his hands in the front pockets of his khaki pants, waiting patiently for her to finish.
“Ready to go?” he asked. “I want to make sure we’re not late for the start of the game.”
And punctual. Serena gave her date a nod as she picked up her purse from the counter. She was about as ready to finally face Dylan as she’d ever be.
Three fucking agonizing weeks, Dylan thought as his fingers tightened around the cold bottle of beer the bartender at the pub had just slid across the counter to him. That’s how long it had been since he’d seen or spoken to Serena, when they’d previously never gone more than a few days without some kind of contact, even after an argument.
But this separation between them hadn’t been for a lack of trying on his end. His calls went straight through to voicemail, and because it irritated the hell out of him that Serena didn’t pick up, he never left a message. He’d texted her a few times, only to get a short, to-the-point answer. He hated how impersonal her responses had become, how distant they’d become.
He’d sent the latest text a few days ago in hopes that getting back to their normal routine would finally put their friendship on the right track again. What time should I pick you up for trivia night? he’d asked. Since they’d always driven together and were game partners for the once-a-month event, it was a logical assumption and a great way to break the ice. Or so he thought.
Waiting for her response had been excruciating, and her reply made him feel as though he’d been gut punched. No need. I have a date and he’s taking me.
What. The. Fuck. That had been his immediate internal reaction. She was bringing a goddamn date when trivia night had always been their thing. Together, as a team, they usually kicked everyone else’s ass and were the current reigning champs. Now, they’d be competing against one another.
Jesus. Everything that was comfortable and routine and familiar with Serena had pretty much gone to shit since he’d taken her to bed and he was all out of sorts because of it. He’d tried to do the right thing the morning after their night together, but there was no denying that he’d fucked everything up and his most deep-seated fears were coming true, that crossing those lines with Serena had changed the whole dynamic of their relationship.
Nothing was the same between them, and the worst part was, he missed his best friend like crazy and felt as though a crucial part of himself had been severed, and he had no clue what to do to fix the damage he’d done. The loss ate at him, consumed him, and made him prickly and moody in general.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dylan saw someone enter the establishment and glanced toward the entrance to the pub, hoping to see Serena, even if she was with another man. Instead, Eric strolled in, spotted him sitting at the bar, and headed his way, passing the other customers gathering around to sign up for the game.
