Love is Madness (Work of Art #2)

Chapter One

Lindsay

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

I looked up at the brick building trying to stave off the panic attack that was building in my chest. I swallowed back vomit as it crept up my throat. My heart pounded, and I started to feel like I might pass out.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

You do know you’re just here for morale support, don’t you? a voice from behind me said, and I jumped a mile.

Then I turned around and smacked the little shit I’d called my best friend since college in the shoulder.

You’re such an asshole, Charlie, I chastised him.

He rolled his eyes. Get over yourself. I’m the one who’ll be puking tomorrow as a result of this trip, he said, crossing his arms over his chest. If anyone should be afraid to go in there it’s me.

Tears filled my eyes at the very real reality I was suddenly facing. My emotions were all over the place, and Charlie knew it, but he threw his hands up in the air anyway.

I’m not dying, he insisted. At least not today.

I smacked him again. Don’t say things like that, I growled at him, and he just shrugged.

It’s true. I’m not.

I know! But you don’t have to make this into a joke. You know how I feel about hospitals. People go in, and they don’t come out.

I hadn’t stepped foot inside a hospital in six years. Even when my best girlfriend Caroline gave birth to her daughter three years earlier, and then to her twin boys last month, I didn’t visit her. I sent flowers and piles of gifts – so many that her husband Rob told me I wasn’t allowed to buy the boys anything else for a year. I didn’t plan on listening. It was my way of saying, ‘I’m sorry I’m a chicken-shit who is afraid of hospitals, but I still love you. Please forgive me for not being a better friend’. Of course Caroline knew how I felt, and I loved her for understanding.

She’d been my best friend in high school when I’d buried my mother, and she’d been my roommate in college sophomore year when my dad had passed away. And she’d been there when I’d said goodbye to James. She’d been there through it all, and after the last time, I vowed I’d never step foot inside another hospital again. I also vowed I’d never let anyone close enough that I could lose them, which was working out splendidly in so many aspects of my life. If I didn’t let anyone in, I didn’t lose anyone.

But then Charlie had found an odd lump near his hip two months earlier. It turned out to be a tumor, which had metastasized from an irregular mole that turned out to be cancerous, and I now wondered if I was the Angel of Death. The title certainly seemed to fit. Although Charlie assured me that the lump was gone and the chemo he was going to undergo was just a precautionary measure to make sure the cancer was completely gone. He was most likely not going to die, but it was hard for me to see beyond the doom and gloom that surrounded hospitals.

I’d spent too much time in them over the years, and I was only going with him, because Caroline, Rob and I were the only ones who knew he’d been diagnosed with cancer. He hadn’t told his parents yet, and I wasn’t about to let him go through this alone since Caroline and Rob were busy with two babies who never seemed to sleep, eat or poop at the same time.

Charlie needed me. That’s why I was doing this. Because he’d been there for me when I’d thought there’d never be any light in my world again. He was my light six years earlier, and now that he needed me, I’d do the same for him.

But the fear was there. The fear of the hospital – the smells, the sounds, the images burned in my brain for all eternity. The fear of loss, of being told the person you loved was gone, of watching them take their last breath and being helpless to control it.

I couldn’t lose Charlie. We’d seen each other through too much, and I genuinely loved him. In college it had been Caroline, Charlie and me all four years, outcasts in our own way, because we found each other and didn’t feel the need to let anyone else in. We’d even lived together for two years after graduation in a crappy one-bedroom apartment in West Hollywood. I was slogging away at a local radio station making hardly enough to eat. Caroline was trying to work her way into the fashion industry, and Charlie was a PA for a movie studio.

Things had changed in twelve years, and the plight we’d faced back then was almost a distant memory, but the bonds we’d formed eating Ramen noodles and drinking boxed wine on our tiny balcony and dreaming about what it would be like to live among the beautiful people had never been broken. Through marriage, kids, lost jobs, coming out, abusive relationships, break-ups, and even death, our friendship had only grown stronger. And because of that, I was facing my fears, because one of my best friends was facing a fear far greater than mine.

I’m going to walk out of this hospital, Charlie assured me. And the worst thing that’s going to happen is I’m going to feel like shit tomorrow, but I’m probably going to lose this sympathy gut I’ve been trying to get rid of for the past month. I swear, Caro pops out two kids, and in four weeks she’s back in her size four jeans, and I’m still pudgy from months of sympathy eating with her! It’s so not fair!

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. All fall Charlie had been indulging in everything he usually avoided in a solidarity pact with Caroline as she complained about gaining baby weight and ate whatever she could get her hands on. Of course she’d been eating for three and he hadn’t. And Charlie wasn’t a big guy, so the fifteen pounds he’d gained had started to show. But in his defense, even though he’d never admit it was the reason, I knew he’d been stress eating. Getting diagnosed with cancer will do that to you, I suppose.

Now I’m going to be bald and fat and no man will ever want to touch me again, he whined, and just because I loved him, I laughed at the look on his face and poked him in his little round stomach.

You’re like the Pillsbury Dough Boy, I said and poked him again, making him squirm. Are you going to giggle if I keep doing that?

Fucking do that again, and you’ll be admitted in there for having your finger ripped off, he said, gesturing to the brick building behind us I’d been trying to pretend didn’t exist.

I just grinned wider, my gaze refusing to follow where he’d pointed. You wouldn’t dare.

Try me, he taunted. And just for kicks, it’ll be your middle finger since I know you love shooting that at people.

Only guys, I rationalized.

"You’re such a tough bitch. I love it, he said in that saucy way of his. Lindsay Hollenbeck: hottest girl on the radio and TV combined with claws just waiting to scratch down the backs of her unassuming victims. You know, I should use this time off from work to write a pilot, and I would cast a girl just like you in the lead. She would be like Buffy meets Daryl from The Walking Dead. And I’d set it in the future, but not like The Hunger Games. It would be more like the Jetsons but with vampire zombies."

I rolled my eyes. Vampire zombies? Really?

Charlie had the most vivid imagination of anyone I knew, and he’d spent the last five years using that imagination to write for two shows on the Sci-Fi Channel. He’d talked about writing a pilot for years, but as far as I knew he’d never actually done it. He started ideas from time to time, but he never saw any of them through.

Yes, vampire zombies. The show would be so cool, Linds. Think about it.

I chuckled. I am, and there’s one flaw in your plan. Flying cars like the Jetsons had means your characters could easily avoid the ridiculous concept of vampire zombies by just taking off in their space cars and saying ‘Peace out, suckers!’. Where’s the drama in that?

He squinted for a few seconds, deep in thought. The girl falls in love with a vampire zombie?

I shook my head. No, that’s gross. Zombies are nasty. No girl in her right mine would fall for one, and besides, if you’re basing your main character on me, she’s not going to fall in love with anyone.

It was his turn to roll his eyes. Please, you’re going to meet some guy some day and you’re not going to be able to resist his charms.

I crossed my arms in front of me. Not going to happen. I’m not doing that again. Besides, I’ve been resisting them for six years. I can tell you I’ve got it down to a science. No one’s getting in here, I said, tapping two fingers over my closely guarded heart.

Charlie sighed and stepped closer to me. We were the same height since I had on my Toms instead of the heels I usually wore. Heels didn’t feel appropriate for sitting with your best friend while he got his first of ten doses of chemotherapy – even in L.A.

Babe, I love you, and you are so wonderful and kind and amazing. You’d make some man so happy.

I felt a squeeze in my chest as I thought about the words that had been said to me all those years ago.

Lindsay, I love you. If you marry me, you’ll make me so happy.

That had been the greatest day of my life.

But instead of crying when I thought of the words James had said to me all those years ago, I put a smile on my face and fought through the sadness like I’d been making myself do for a long time. Charlie knew what I was doing, and whether he realized that what he’d said had triggered the memory of the day James proposed, or if it was just that he could read me so well, he looped his arms around my waist.

Just because you had it once and lost it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love again, he said. And I know you want a family. You need a man for that. And you’ll be the best mom. I’ve seen you with Hannah. She adores you.

I thought we talked about this, I said, shaking my head. "I’m going to be your baby mama, and we’re going to grow old together raising our kids. It’ll be like that book we read to Hannah – Josie Has Two Mommies."

I’m not naming our daughter Josie, he said, a look of horror washing over his face. And I love you, but I want to find a big, tall, strong man to keep in my bed each night.

I want that too! I protested. As long as it’s not the same man each night. One month with the same guy is my max, you know that.

He sighed. Oh, Linds.

But I shook my head not wanting him to start with me. I had my rules and I followed them. I’d been doing it for six years. One night stands and short-term, non-emotional relationships had become my specialty.

We’d have the cutest kids, I told him, aiming for his vulnerable, narcissistic side. And I’d let you have that big strong man in your bed. I wouldn’t care.

I batted my eyelashes to amp up the pleading look in my eyes, and he laughed.

I’ll think about it. Especially since there aren’t going to be any strong, hot men in my future anyway. You might be my only option in a few weeks, he lamented. No man is going to want me now.

I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, hating the cracks that appeared on his unbreakable surface. Charlie talked a good game, made jokes to get through each day, but we both knew he was terrified of the future. Chemo aside, what if the cancer came back?

Babe, you’re gorgeous, I said, running my hand back through his sandy brown hair. This will be temporary, and you know it.

He stood up straighter, steeling himself. I know. I know. Then he looked at me speculatively. Will you shave your head with me, so I don’t have to be bald by myself?

I laughed, throwing my head back, my long blond hair reaching my mid-back. When I lifted my head and looked at Charlie, he had an amused expression on his face.

Do you really think the network execs will go for that? I asked him.

Yeah, I guess not. At least Rob’s doing it with me.

I nodded. Exactly. And he’s got an odd-shaped head. I’m not sure he should be going bald.

Charlie held up his index finger. This is true. My brother definitely got a raw deal in that department. But he got the height, so I guess he wins.

Rob wasn’t exactly tall, but at 5’ 9 he towered over his younger brother who was just 5’ 6.

You’re better looking too, I said, because I knew Charlie needed to hear it.

He grinned. I am, aren’t I. Sleepless nights and long days at the office don’t bode well for good skin, and Rob works way too hard. I’m just saying.

Exactly, I said, because I knew he was stalling.

At first it had been me, but I knew Charlie was dreading walking into that hospital as much as I was, because once he did, once he started the chemo, the cancer would suddenly be real. The out-patient surgery he’d had in late November had been a blip on the radar, but this would be two and a half months of his life wrapped about the illness he never wanted to admit he had. Hell, I didn’t want to admit it, but it was about to become very real for both of us.

I laced my fingers through his. Come on, let’s get this over with.

He squeezed my hand back as we turned and walked into the hospital, and I focused on breathing in and out and trying not to faint.

Chapter Two

Brandon

One, two, three, go! I shouted at Devin who looked like he might puss out on me.

Across the table, Harper just winked, her shot glass poised. I winked back at her and slammed my shot back at the same time as my friends did, landing the glass on the table with a loud thud that I felt rather than heard due to the pounding music overhead.

You okay, baby? Kelly, Devin’s fiancée asked, rubbing his back.

He jerked away from her hand, and I saw him pause and swallow. I really hoped he hadn’t just chocked back vomit. I’m fine, he said, which made Kelly and Harper laugh.

Let’s dance! Harper said, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the high-top table we were stationed at.

Hell yeah, let’s dance, I said and jerked my head at Devin and Kelly. You coming?

I think we’re going to sit this one out, Kelly said, because I think Devin was still fighting not to puke all over the table, and she could tell.

In his defense, he’d been drinking since that afternoon, but it was also his fault for going balls-out on New Year’s Eve too early in the night. Golden rule of sustaining the party vibe was a steady pace. Harper and I had been drinking for a few hours, but we were still good to go.

Come on, Harper said, pulling on my arm.

I looked back to see the wide smile on her face, her array of tattoos flashing in time with the lights that hit them intermittently from overhead. She was fucking gorgeous, and the tank top she was wearing showed off her artwork, making her look like a living canvas. Once upon a time I’d imagine what it would be like to kiss her full, perfect lips and run my hands over her soft skin, inspecting each tattoo that told the story of who she was. And now that I’d done that, I knew just how amazing it could be.

I’m so getting laid tonight, I yelled over the pulsing beat of the David Guetta song blaring overhead.

Harper laughed. You get laid every night.

I grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against me. Damn right I do, but tonight, I’m going to do things to you you’ve only dreamed about.

She rolled her eyes. She actually rolled her eyes at me, and then she looked right at me. You’ll have to get through my boyfriend first, she reminded me, knowing I was just messing around.

That loser, I scoffed playfully. Please. Bring him on.

She smacked my chest. Hey, that loser is your best friend, and I love him. So do you for that matter. Just because he’s back at the hotel sick with the flu doesn’t mean you can make a move on me. You know he’ll kick your ass as soon as he’s healthy.

I grinned. Yeah, I know, but you won’t let me kiss you anymore. It’s not fair! I was that close to getting you to fall in love with me, and then Ryan had to swoop in and be all like, ‘But I love you, Harper, and you’re the girl for me. I even called off my wedding for you.’ I was all like, ‘Shit. What about me?’ And you were all like, ‘But I love him too.’ It was like I never had a fucking chance.

She returned my smile. You never did, she said, shaking her head. He got to me first – years before I ever met you. Sorry about that.

Whatever, I said, sighing in mock-frustration. Was I at least a better kisser?

Once upon a time, back when Harper was trying to make Ryan jealous, she’d made out with me one night. I knew back then it was only for fun, but damn if I didn’t enjoy it. She was hot as fuck, and I dreamed about finding a girl just like her. But Ryan was my best friend, and I would never seriously think of touching his girl. He was like my brother. And he and Harper – as incongruent as they looked together with him being Mr. Preppy and her being a badass tatted up hottie – they were really in love. And they had history. I couldn’t compete with that.

So I just slept with random women – sometimes at the same time – to pass the time. In truth, I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I’d been burned by Satan’s Mistress, aka Heather, my bitch of an ex-wife who’d ripped my heart into teeny, tiny pieces when I caught her in bed with her fucking tennis coach. Stupid gold digging bitch. I should have listened to my mother. She met Heather back when I was all in love and dumb as a motherfucker thinking that my college girlfriend would make me happy for the rest of my life. Naïve little shithead I was.

My mother didn’t like her, but I didn’t care. I married Heather anyway, and ten years later, she fed my heart to the dog, who she also got in our divorce, along with half of my money. Good thing for me, I had plenty to spare, but I still got a tight feeling in the pit of my stomach when I thought about the thousands of dollars in alimony I’d be forking out for the rest of eternity. Fucking Heather. The bitch just pissed me off, and I hadn’t even seen her in almost two years. Not since the knock-down, drag-out fight we’d had outside the courthouse in downtown Boston on February 14th. Happy Fucking Valentine’s Day to me.

It was then that we decided to let our lawyers handle everything, because it was obvious we couldn’t even be in the same room as each other. Our divorce was finalized in June, and a year later I’d moved across the country to San Francisco, because I couldn’t stand to live in a city with so many reminders of Heather and her infidelities, coupled with the very real fear of what I might do to her if I saw her out in public. My hope was that having an entire country between us would afford me the sweet relief of never having to see her face again. I’d never hit a girl in my life, but I’d come close the day I’d caught her with Thomas. Fucking Thomas – a wisp of a man I could have broken in half with one roundhouse kick to the back.

When I’d caught them, my first instinct was to lash out at them, but I’d restrained myself, my good sense and all out fear of becoming some dude’s bitch in jail outweighing my urge to spill the guy’s blood. I’d been training in mixed martial arts for four years, and I probably could have done some serious damage to both of them, but instead I’d just turned around and walked away.

Then I’d punched and kicked the oak tree in our front yard, because it was there, and because I needed to do something to get the rage out. Bloody knuckles and a broken hand were my physical reminders of that day for a few months, but by the time the bones had healed and my skin was back to normal, the emotional scars Heather had inflicted hurt worse than any damage I could have done to myself.

I’d given her everything, and she’d repaid me by having a year-long affair with a guy I’d assumed was gay. He was not. He was just the Devil’s little bitch.

And because of what I’d been through, I’d never dream of making a move on my best friend’s girl. Ryan had been cheated on before, and I was glad he’d found a way to look past it. I didn’t think I ever could.

I’m sorry, Brandon, but you’re not a better kisser than Ryan, Harper told me, pouting a little as she tried not to crush my ego completely.

It’s okay. I know I’m better in bed than him, I said shrugging. You just never got to find out.

She laughed. Fine. I’ll let you have that one.

Thank you. That’s especially kind of you since I’m going to have to find some random girl to kiss at midnight since you’ll never kiss me.

No, I won’t, but I will find you a girl, she offered.

Not that I needed the help. There were a dozen girls I could make mine for the night if I wanted, but I felt bad that Harper was out alone since Ryan was sick. I didn’t want to leave her, but I did have the option of not going to bed alone later when she went back to Ryan. No harm in that.

I shrugged. Yeah, sure. Why not.

Harper clapped her hands. Oh, this is going to be fun, she said, turning around to survey the pulsing bodies on the dance floor. Then she grabbed my hand. Come on.

She led me over to the bar where she scooted in between two guys who looked at her like she was the second coming before they offered to buy her a drink. She was a sneaky one, and it was definitely benefiting me that night as she returned with two tequila shots. Fortunately she hadn’t let them buy our drinks, but she had gotten to the bartender faster than she would had the guys not let her in.

Cheers, she said, clinking her glass to mine.

I took the shot back and looked up at the TV behind the bar. The channel was tuned to a New Year’s Eve special that was live from Times Square just a few blocks from where we were. A hot blond was interviewing a boy band I knew of only because a few of them had come to Harper for tattoos a few months earlier when they’d been playing a show in San Francisco. Westside, I think they were called.

I’d been at her tattoo parlor getting her to cover up the mistake I’d made the week after I’d gotten married. I’d wanted to cover up the hag’s name I’d had emblazoned on my hip since the day I’d found out she’d been cheating on me, but it had taken me some time to figure out what I wanted to cover it up with. Harper finally sold me on a series of hearts with thorns in and around them. It was badass and symbolic at the same time since that was how my heart had felt for over two years. And I think Harper was the one person who really understood that.

Who the fuck is that? I asked, my eyes bugging out of my head as I stared at the blond on the screen, her blue eyes shining, her cheeks flushed pink in the cold, her black fuck-me boots making her legs look lethal.

Who? Harper asked, following my gaze.

I was practically drooling. I’d never seen anyone so hot. All I could think was I want! I want! I want!

I was like a little kid in a toy store two weeks before Christmas, and that girl was the one thing I’d dreamed about for months. I just didn’t know it. In that moment, as she stood there smiling and laughing, my eyes were glued to her glossy red lips, and I could practically see them wrapped about my dick. I groaned inwardly, knowing just how sweet that mouth of hers would be. She was practically glistening as she stood just out of my reach, taunting me, telling me that all my hopes and dreams would come true if I buried myself deep inside her for a night.

Oh, she’s pretty, Harper said, shrugging.

She was more than pretty. She was gorgeous. I mean, we’re talking fucking drop-dead, give my left nut, sell my soul to Satan for one night with her, gorgeous. I didn’t think I’d ever wanted anything more in my life. Screw the average, generic girls who were at the club that night. I didn’t want any of them. I wanted the girl on TV.

Hey! Kelly said, bouncing up and dragging my attention away from the girl of all my really dirty dreams.

What are you guys doing? Do we want to stay here or go somewhere else? Devin asked from behind Kelly looking surprisingly spritely.

I eyed him speculatively. Dude, did you puke and rally?

He grinned sheepishly. It was the only way, man.

Aww, damn. You’re like ten years too old for that shit, I teased him.

He shrugged. I felt like ass, now I don’t. Holla!

"You’re too old for that," Harper told him, and Kelly and I laughed.

Yo, I got more street-cred than you mo-foes, Devin scoffed, and Kelly looked at him like he had two heads.

Yeah, baby, sure. Whatever you say.

I’m black! he shouted, but he couldn’t have sounded whiter when he said that.

And you grew up on the mean streets of Santa Clara, Kelly reminded him.

Whatever, he grumbled, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. Are we staying or going?

I want that, I said, pointing to the TV, and three pairs of eyes followed my finger.

You want her? Devin clarified. Or you want to be in a boy band.

Oh, ha, ha. Yes, I’ve always dreamed about singing on stage with three other dudes, I said sarcastically. "Hell no! I want her! I can tell you about the seven different ways I want her. First I’d–"

My probably unnecessary explanation of all the things I would do to my Barbie Dream Girl were cut off by Harper’s hand landing over my mouth.

We got it, Brandon. No need to explain.

I smiled under her hand, so she removed it and lightly slapped my face. Pervert.

I shrugged. Stud, I clarified.

"You want her?" Devin asked again, this time the disbelief clear in his tone.

Yeah, what, you think I can’t get her?

He raised an eyebrow at me. You want Lindsay Hollenbeck, he said, and the mocking in his voice was clear as day.

I puffed up my chest like a real man would. Yeah, I do.

Devin laughed. The motherfucker laughed. At me. Oh, hell no.

Let’s go, I said then.

Go where? Kelly asked, looking confused.

Times Square, I explained, picking up the unspoken challenge Devin had just thrown down.

No, Harper groaned. That’s so cheesy. Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Brandon, you suck.

Oh darn. I didn’t bring my glittery top hat that says ‘Happy New Year’ with me, Kelly joked. I don’t think I can go.

Wait, let me get this straight, Devin said, holding his hand up. You want Lindsay Hollenbeck, the hottest girl in radio, and one of the biggest bitches I’ve ever met, like for real?

Dude, she’s hot as fuck! I groaned, not caring that she was famous or a bitch. Neither of those things would matter when I was buried balls-deep inside her.

This girl was like Giselle Bunchen and Marisa Miller with a slightly gravelly voice wrapped up in one neat hot as hell package. I could just hear her growling out my name, her nails raking down my bare back, her head thrown back in ecstasy as I gave her what she never knew she was missing – again, and again, and again.

She’s a tight-ass bitch when it comes to guys, Devin said, only slightly hurting my buzz. She’d never go for you. You’re too easy.

Easy? I questioned, raising an eyebrow at him. Was that a bad thing? Are you joking?

He shrugged. She’s a love ‘em and leave ‘em type, when she actually graces a guy with her attention. And she loves to play hard to get. You wouldn’t stand a chance.

Have you seen me? I threw out at him, knowing it made me sound like a conceited prick, but I didn’t care. I was a conceited prick. I knew what I looked like. How do you even know her anyway?

Dude, everyone knows her. She’s been a name in radio for the past five years. Her main gig is a nationally broadcasted Top 40 Countdown shows that airs each Sunday, but she also works for one of those entertainment news channels, so she interviews celebrities on the red carpet at different events all the time. I met her a few years ago at an industry party before she really made a name for herself, and we’ve been friends ever since.

I was appalled – first that I’d not known someone as beautiful and sexy as this girl even existed and second that Devin knew her, was friends with her even, and he’d never introduced me!

Dude, what the hell? I asked, shoving him in the shoulder.

What the hell was that for? he asked, rubbing where my palm had connected with his body.

I threw the hand that wasn’t holding my drink in the air. You’ve known this girl the whole time I’ve known you, and you never thought to introduce me?!

He shrugged. Why would I? She lives in L.A., and besides, you never seem to have a shortage of women at your disposal.

This was true, but none of the women I’d slept with since moving in San Francisco six months earlier were even close to as hot as this girl. Images of her leather clad thighs squeezing my hips danced in my head as I glanced back at the TV to see her smiling at the camera for a few seconds before it jumped to the crowd in Times Square.

Not the point, Dev. Besides, she’s exactly the girl I’ve been searching for all my life! I said dramatically, which caused Devin and Kelly to roll their eyes.

They knew me well enough to know that was bullshit.

Harper slugged me in the arm. Hey, that’s what you told me, she said in mock-offense, and I turned and grinned at her.

You had your chance, but you chose my best friend over me. You lost points for that. And now after seeing, my gaze shifted to Devin, what was her name?

He rolled his eyes again. Since she’s the girl of your dreams, you think you’d remember something as important as her name.

I fixed a glare on him. What’s her name? I repeated, showing no shame that I couldn’t remember it.

It’s Lindsay.

Yeah, that’s right, Lindsay, I said, nodding as I took a sip of my drink and turned back to Harper. Anyway, since I saw Lindsay, you got demoted. She’s my dream girl now.

Harper stuck her tongue out at me.

But, as I said before, Devin interjected, she’ll never go for you. She’s only friendly to me, because she knows I’m with Kelly, but she’s leery of single guys. I’ve seen her decimate a few over the years. And you’re just the kind of guy she’d love to blow off.

Yeah right. I knew what I had to offer. Girls – aside from Harper – didn’t turn me down.

Well, challenge accepted then, I said as I downed my drink, slammed the glass on a nearby table and started toward the entrance. I was going after this girl, and I wasn’t going to stop until she