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And that’s when East Harbor happened.
It was as if fate—and I wasn’t a big believer, but I couldn’t deny the occasional coincidence—wanted me to have another chance.
“Chelsea, do you think it’s going to be better this time around?”
My best friend knew me to my bones. She understood the fright behind the question. My heart was a fluttering sparrow in search of a home tonight, and I wanted to land.
Part of my insecurity had stemmed from being different. I had been a thick girl since forever— and it took me years to learn to love my body for what it gave me.
This time around, though, I wanted to embrace college life in allmyglory. Beautiful, curvy, and in control.
I just wasn’t sure the world was ready for that.
“You’re going to be amazing, Rory,” she whispered. “I don’t doubt that for one second. But I do think you’re going to have to let your guard down a little.”
“I don’t know how.”
Correction. I did know how. I just didn’t want to try.
Love didn’t make sense to me at times. Maybe it was because of how my dad had broken my mom’s heart not once, but three times.
Each time, he kept returning with the promise to be better until, after the third betrayal, he got his new girlfriend pregnant.
That was the last Mom and I heard from him. The cherry on the cake?
I was one year and one day old. He chose the other family over us.
I sighed. “It’s not ten yet. You want to meet up for a drink?”
“You know I’m never not down for that, girl.”
Club Mezunna wastheplace to be in town. Everything about it screamed teenage fantasy, from the eccentric cocktails to the low lighting.
Chelsea and I sat by the bar, sipping on our Negronis.
My best friend wasted no time in scoping out the patrons. Chelsea was a free spirit when it came to love, and she believed it could happen as many times as it needed to.
“Stop.” I frowned at her. “You’re not running off with a strange dude tonight.”
“Who said I’m looking for me?” She winked. “There’s this man who can’t take his eyes off you.”
I almost choked on my drink. “Who?”
“Oh, God, Rory, be subtle,” she replied, scandalized as I immediately whipped my head around.
True to her word, a Greek god looked at me from the end of the bar table. He was... fuck, he was handsome. He had to be older. Perhaps in his late thirties.
Salt and pepper hair.Check.
Ocean-blue eyes with flecks of green.Check.
Sexy evening stubble.Check.
He could have passed as a model or a college professor—I couldn’t tell which suited him better. He flashed me a wide grin, and I felt fire creeping into my cheeks.
“What do I do?” I asked Chelsea, panicking so hard I spilled a bit of the drink on my dress and the table.
“Girl, for the love of God, calm down!” She laughed. “This is no interview!”
