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CHAPTER FOUR
Harlow
I’m on the early shift this morning, which means an eye-watering 6 a.m. start and spending the first half of the day with Fleur. The commuting rush is over, and I’m wiping the counter down when she stands next to me, hands on her hips.
“What’s up?” I ask with a frown.
“I was just about to ask you that. That’s your fifth sigh in the last ten minutes. It sounds like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.” I didn’t even realize I was doing it.
“I’m fine,” I try to reassure her.
“No one who ever says the words ‘I’m fine’ is actually fine.” I shrug in response, because it’s nothing important. So my crush doesn’t reciprocate my feelings. Big deal, Harlow. Talk about first world problems. I can’t say I’m sulking because a guy doesn’t like me without sounding like the petulant brat I’m being, but Fleur doesn’t let up. “Are we talking it out or drinking it out?”
My eyes flick to hers at the mention of a drink. Even remembering trying to drag myself through yesterday after the last night out doesn’t deter me. I will never learn. “Drinking it is,” she says. “I’ll have a nap between my split shift, and you nap after yours.” I smile at her instructions, happy to have something to distract me from moping. “That’s more like it!”
A customer comes to the counter and I have to finish the conversation to serve, but I’ve got more of a pep in my step for the rest of my shift. It picks up again, and Fleur and Celeste swap over before she’s back in what seems like minutes, signaling the end of my own shift. Being busy is sometimes a blessing.
“We’ll pick you up at nine,” Fleur calls as I leave, and I throw a wave over my shoulder.
I have a nap, as instructed, although I can’t sleep for nearly as long as I’d like. When I wake, I make some dinner, leave Sawyer some leftovers in the fridge, and get ready. I give myself a stern talking-to in the process. I cannot let other people’s feelings of me dictate my mood. So I have tiny crushes on two guys who don’t have crushes of any size on me. This is fine. I am more than the men who do or don’t want me. I’m being ridiculous. And tonight, I’m getting laid.
Opting for a black blazer dress and some strappy heels that wrap around my calf, I pair them with nude makeup and a big blowout. There’s a knock on my door as I fix some stray hairs in the mirror, and I grab my bag, answering the door ready to leave.
“Wow. You look amazing.”
“Thanks, Sawyer. So do you,” I reply. He really does, in a white shirt that fits in all the right places and some dark navy trousers. “I didn’t realize you were going out.”
“It’s Kevin’s birthday,” he says, and that rings a bell somewhere in my head. I’m sure he’s mentioned his colleague’s night out before. “I didn’t know you were either.”
“We only decided earlier.”
“We?”
“I’m going with Fleur and Lee.” Lee is Fleur’s boyfriend, and he’s a total sweetheart. He’s fairly quiet but is always up for being a chauffeur/bodyguard for Fleur on nights out without dampening our vibe. “Where are you going?” I ask.
“Probably the same place you are—the Regency.”
“That’s not your usual spot.” He shrugs.
“Birthday boy’s choice. Do you want to jump in our car? They’re two minutes away.”
“No, it’s okay. Fleur and Lee are already on their way. I guess I’ll see you there, then?” He cups the back of my head and lays a kiss on my hair as his phone beeps.
“See you there.”
***
Now I remember why I don’t go out with Sawyer. This is hell. Forget everything I’ve ever said about a bad time. My personal torture is being forced to watch a whole line of girls take their turn to hang off Sawyer and essentially peacock as he takes his pick for who he’ll fuck tonight. This is not distracting me from my other guy woes, and unsurprisingly, my mood is sour, but I can’t explain why to Fleur or Lee. No one knows quite how deep my feelings go for Sawyer, even if I joke with Fleur about perving on him. This won’t do. I need to get laid and get Sawyer’s possible conquests out of my brain.
“What about him? Two o’clock?” I take a sip of my drink and subtly look in the direction Fleur gestures. There’s a guy with a receding hairline and a beer gut staring straight over here.
“God, Fleur, I’m not that desperate.”
“Well, there are plenty of better specimens around us right now.” I give her a withering glare, but she grins back at me. There’s no way I’m hooking up with someone Sawyer works with. That’s a straight-up no.
“What about the guy coming in, the one in the cheap suit?” I take a glance expecting to shoot down Lee’s suggestion after that description, but I’m pleasantly surprised. The guy is probably about my age and has a strong jaw and dark hair he’s combed back, albeit with way too much gel. He reminds me of a used car salesman and is probably cocky as hell, but that’s what I need tonight. Someone who’s confident in rocking my world, who I hopefully won’t have to take home to get him to do it—I literally just changed my sheets. Well, Sawyer did. The guy is walking in and heading to one of the tables with a group of people already there.
“Not bad. You might be able to remain my wingmen after all. Drink, anyone?” I down the last of my cocktail and head up to the bar, settling myself just in front of the guy’s table. He appears next to me as I order, and in the mirror behind the barman, I see him do a double take when he sees me.
