Chapter 7
The distance between north and south honestly felt like moving to a different country.
It took me a whole month to get used to the sticky, humid air down here–long enough that my hair finally stopped clinging to my neck and driving me crazy.§
“Don’t let appearances fool you, I always get even when someone crosses me.”
The guy in front of me was trying hard to keep the conversation going. We’d matched on a dating app.
He was cute enough, but there was just… nothing between us.§
I made up an excuse about an alarm and dipped out early.
In a city where I didn’t know a soul, I could use dating apps however I wanted, without worrying about bumping into someone from my old life.
So I started seeing a new guy every week–mostly just to kill time.§
Honestly, the best way to break the illusion of hot guys is to actually meet them.
It’s not like I’m obsessed with looks anymore, but let’s be real–who actually chooses someone they find unattractive?!
After two months of sifting through the mud, I finally struck gold.
He was fifteen minutes late.
He showed up in a suit that looked like it cost more than my rent, hair perfectly styled–except for a few strands that had slipped loose, like he’d rushed to meet me. It made him look less polished, more approachable.
His features were soft, easy on the eyes. Straight nose, lips that were just right, and a mouth that always seemed to curve into a faint smile.
He wasn’t as striking as Dean, but he was the kind of guy you wanted to keep looking at.”
He greeted me, calm and collected: “Sorry I’m late. Let me get the bill.”
By the end of dinner, it was obvious–we weren’t from the same world.
He was probably way wealthier than even Dean’s family, and they were Northville’s local royalty.” Dean was a part–time model with his own streetwear brand–made good money, spent even more.
But this guy? He was a mystery.
Conversation with him was effortless. Comfortable.
Which meant, honestly, he was lowering himself to meet me where I was.
My brain said, Don’t get involved, he’s not just a fling to pass the time.
But my heart? I didn’t want to let go.2
Especially after I nearly tripped and he caught me.
He let go of my hand right away, switched to holding my arm until I was steady, then stepped back, giving me space. He was so freaking polite it almost felt like a challenge.
He smelled amazing–cool and fresh, like Silver Mountain Water.”
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Bryan, do you want to grab a drink?”
He looked honestly surprised for a second, then smiled.
“That’s not what you promised when you asked me out,” he teased.@
I shrugged it off. “Never mind, then”
But before I could turn away, Bryan said, “I’m not really into bars.”
Was he hinting at coming to my place?!
Maybe it was just the southern night–the city lights, the warm air, everything felt new and alive.
I didn’t overthink it. I nodded, “Okay”
We were both adults. No need to play games.
Half an hour later, Bryan and I were sitting on the curb, clinking bottles together.
Yeah, turns out there’s more to do at night than just bars or going home with someone.
By the end of the first bottle, I was talking about Hegel and Kant and how I saw love.
By the end of the second, I admitted I was married.
Top ridiculously attractive guy–my high school fantasy come true
Bryan just raised an eyebrow but stayed &
After the third bottle, I told him the truth: things were over, we were separated and heading for divorce, so technically, it wasn’t cheating. Bryan almost smiled. “If you were cheating, I wouldn’t mind.” he said.
“When nobody gets hurt, is it really even immoral?”
“That’s just clever talk,” I shot back
After the fourth bottle, we found ourselves debating mamage, from ancient times to now
Chapter 7
Eight bottles in, I looked straight at him and asked, “So… are you big there?“}
Chapter 8
