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CHAPTER1
TYLER
“To us!” I shout over the noise of the bar, raising my shot glass high and clinking it with Jared's before we down the fiery liquid.
“Damn, that never gets old!” I exclaim, the burn lighting up memories of wilder nights from our younger days.
We may be in our thirties now, but tonight, we're here to party like it's 1999. Jared and I decided to hit up our old stomping grounds, even if it meant dealing with a crowd that could pass as our younger cousins.
“Where's Jessica?” I ask, referring to Jared's fiancé.
“We had a fight.” He rolls his eyes. “Let’s please enjoy the night without bringing her up.”
“Gotcha.”
Jessica’s never been one to party anyway.
Jared smirks, scanning the crowd. “Speaking of significant others, it's time for you to find someone to celebrate with.”
I laugh.
“Oh, here we go again with your matchmaking shenanigans.”
Before I know it, he's pushing me toward a table where a beautiful young woman sits alone. She's definitely my type, her wavy brown hair cascading down her shoulders, a river of chocolate tempting me to run my hands through it. The soft glow of the flickering light casts shadows over her angelic face, her eyebrows graceful arches framing her lively eyes.
Her flushed cheeks are aglow. She’s impeccably put together in a summer dress and an oversized blue cardigan.
I want to find out what hides beneath the flow of that silky fabric.
But there's more to her. A spark that sets her apart and pulls me in.
“Go get her!” Jared winks, giving me another playful shove. He knows me better than anyone, so it’s not surprising he found a girl for me in this crowd.
Jared and I met as children, finding ourselves as neighbors at the end of our Medford cul-de-sac. Our families quickly became friends, and the rest was history.
I take a deep breath, my heart pounding with excitement, as I walk over to the stunning brunette.
“Hey there, gorgeous.”
Her eyes lift from her phone, and instead of annoyance, I see amusement dancing in her gaze.
“Right back at you.”
“What is a pretty girl like you doing by herself?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She shifts in her seat a little, looking around as if she isn’t confident I’m talking to her.
“My friends are getting more drinks,” she tells me hesitantly.
Her friends must be getting drinks for themselves, I conclude. A glass of something fruity sits mostly untouched in front of her.
“Lucky for me. It gives me time to talk to you.”
I shift my body a little closer to her so we can converse better over the din of the bar.
While her look doesn’t scream, “I want to fuck,” there’s something about her whole innocence thing that’s a raging turn on.
She doesn’t seem to have anything to say to move the conversation along, fumbling with her sweater like a nervous virgin.
