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Chapter 1
Harper
“Jerk!” I thrust the wine across the table in true reality show grandeur. I watch the wine slide down his face and trickle down his chin. The pool of red gathering on his white shirt is the only satisfaction I’ll have after another night of watching him appraise every woman in the room with lust-filled eyes.
Marcel’s head snaps in my direction, the lust traded for anger. He reaches for a napkin. “What is wrong with you, Harper?”
“You’re what’s wrong with me.” I stand up, pushing away from the table. “Why did you bring me to this fancy Mongolian restaurant to behave like a snake? I’m done with tonight, and I’m done with you.”
“Stop being a brat.”
I turn to leave, and Marcel grabs my wrist. I yank it free, pulling my balled hand to my side. I want to drive my itty-bitty fist through his wandering eyes. It's who he is, and I can't fault him for that.
This is my fault. I thought I was different. I knew he had a way with women and he insisted that he change. I thought our chemistry was enough. That our history was enough. But once again my natural slant towards giving him the benefit of the doubt, blocked my judgment.
I smooth my hands over my dress, pulling my shoulders back. “Lose my number.”
“Gladly.” Marcel wipes his face. The man is fine, a beautiful brown masterpiece, and he knows it. But he’s a goliath bullfrog, an oversized, slimy reptile. I take that back. That’s insulting to reptiles. Yet here I am.
Again.
I stomp through the restaurant making sure he sees what he’ll miss. I’m a few inches over five feet, but I don't give a damn. Thanks to a standing appointment with my trainer, my full hips, snatched waist, and round, natural butt make for a sight coming and going. So, I envision my best Beyoncé fan, tossing my hair over my shoulder winking at the many admirers as I make my grand exit in slow motion, pretending my heart isn't crushed.
I reach the door, giving Marcel a parting glance. So much for speed dating. I mentally scratch that one off my list along with Marcel. I’ve tried dating apps, blind dates, and my mother sprinkled in the sons of all her besties. But I’m still single.
I step outside looking up at the dark sky. Suddenly the clouds crack open. The downpour covers me plastering my white dress to my body. I’m officially done with tonight. I pull off my shoes quickly shuffling to my car through the rain.
I yank open the door, thankful I don’t need a key. I plop down and open my visor. I’m drenched. I’m pissed. Then a scream escapes from the pit of my soul.
"That's it!" I pull open my armrest and find some tissues to dry my face. "No more, Harper. You can't keep doing this to yourself." I dry my face, but for some reason, I can't control the tears flowing from my eyes. No more playing nice, it hurts too much.
"Suck it up, Harper."
But I’m not listening. I grab my cellphone from my clutch. I text the guys, SOS. S&J ASAP. I turn on the sound for my phone then toss it into a cupholder. I finish drying my face, and my phone is singing a melody of hope from my guys.
I tap the first text from Hunter, Roger that.
I’m there, from Charlee makes me chuckle. I know she'll be late, but I never doubt that she will be the one cussing and fussing the loudest.
The others roll in, and I smile, grateful for amazing friends. All nine confirmed.
I'm knocking on thirty's door, and my biological clock is ticking louder since watching Hunter walk down the aisle with Ben. I'm happy for her, but I can't help but wonder, When will I find Mr. Right?
Not Mr. Right Now. Not Mr. I Want You And Your Girlfriends Too.
I pull out my emergency makeup kit and try to repair the damage thanks to the rain. Dudes now days have too many options. I close the compact glancing down. Next, I need to fix my outfit, but I don't want to drive all the way home. Target.
