Gianna held one hand to her ear. “Would you guys want to get out of here? I only live a few blocks away, and it’s so loud.”

Logan jumped at the offer. “Absolutely.” He lifted his hand for the bartender to close out the tab. I might’ve been substituting Gianna for Val in a conversation about teaching, but there was no way I was substituting her for anything else.

I leaned in to Gianna so she could hear me. “Thank you for the offer. But I have an early day tomorrow, so I’m gonna head out.”

She pouted. “You sure? Maybe just one drink?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” I stood and reached into my pocket to pull out my billfold. Dropping a hundred on the bar, I turned to Logan, “I’m gonna head out, buddy.”

His brows drew down. “What? Why?”

“I have a meeting first thing in the morning.”

“So? You’re the boss. Push it back to the afternoon.”

“Can’t,” I said.

Though, that wasn’t exactly true. I could push back my morning marketing meeting if I wanted to. I just didn’t want to. It was probably against bro code to duck out as Logan’s wingman, but I was confident he’d still be going home with them both.

Logan attempted to object. But I’d already said goodnight to the ladies. I slapped my buddy on the back. “Talk to you later.”

He shook his head and mumbled so only I could hear him. “You’re crazy.”

Yeah, crazy about a woman I might get to see next year.

***

I took the long way home.

It wasn’t the fastest route, but it was only about seven blocks out of my way. Logan and I had met at a bar uptown, not too far from Eve’s restaurant. If I walked two blocks north and five blocks east, I could jump on the R train, and that would let me off a block from my building. So what if I’d passed the N train five blocks ago and that dropped me just as close? I was still, technically, on my way home.

I told myself I was just going to pass by, not stop, and definitely not go inside. With that agenda, I wasn’t even sure what the hell the point was; yet I was compelled to at least walk past.

Unfortunately, even though I’d slowed to a snail’s pace a building before the restaurant, when I walked past Eve’s bistro, the only thing I’d accomplished was taking twelve more steps. No one happened to be coming in or out, and Eve was nowhere in sight. Deflated—though, not sure what I’d expected to happen—I kept walking. But by the time I made it to the corner, my mind had started to reel.

It’s Friday night. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for Val to have dinner at her friend’s restaurant.

She might be inside.

Maybe I could just look in the window and see.

Yeah, I’ll just go back and take one quick look.

Turning around, I started back toward the restaurant.

Fuck. What am I doing?

What if Val’s in there with a date?

What if they walk out the door laughing and smiling just as I pass by?

I think I’m losing it.

I grumbled to myself, yet slowed as I arrived back at the restaurant door. When I was almost all the way to the other end of the long windows, I attempted to look casual. Stopping, I took out my phone and played with it. My back was to the window, so I turned around to look inside. Only there was too much glare, and all I could see was a reflection of myself. I let out a sigh of frustration, shoved my phone in my pocket, and turned to walk away once again.

But I only made it three steps.

“Fuck this,” I groaned. I had to know. Backing up to the window once again, I cupped my hands to peer inside, my nose pressed to the glass. I could see inside now, but there wasn’t too much going on. A few tables were filled, but the restaurant was half empty—which I suppose made sense, since it was getting pretty late. I surveyed the room, scanning each table. At one point, I saw a flash of dark, curly hair, and for half a second I got excited…though, it turned out not to be her.

My shoulders slumped. I’d been looking into the room and not directly in front of me, so a knock on the glass startled me. I finally looked at the couple sitting literally right on the other side of where my face was pressed. The guy held up his hands in the universal what the fuck are you doing gesture. Shit.

I waved an apology and took off.

Perfect. Now I’m not just watching her Match account, Instagram, and Facebook. I’m turning into a full-fledged stalker. I needed to go the hell home.

***

At least one relationship from Match.com had worked out.

A few weeks later, I sat in the conference room with my marketing team going through the first two months of results from our advertising campaign. It turned out to be the best bang for our buck we’d ever had—more successful than billboards, newspaper ads, and advertising in commercial real estate mags.

The marketing team had come up with a few new advertisements to run—four video ads—each one targeting a different demographic. So far, we’d only used static graphics. Each twenty-second video featured a different couple who’d met on Match.com and also used shared office space. Apparently, people ate up those short vignettes where the happy couple tells their bullshit love story, so the click rates are through the roof.

Though today, I fucking hated them. Screw these happy people when I have to be miserable.

The spots were shot in our offices, and the couples mentioned why they loved using our shared workspace. They seemed more like Match.com success stories than advertising, but I guessed that was the point. I was able to stomach two, anxious to be done with the happy couples projected onto the whiteboard.

The third couple came on the screen, and a woman who was probably in her mid-thirties said, “My parents are divorced. I’m divorced. Ron was the first person I met on Match.com.”

Ron piped in, smiling at her. “We hit it off, but she didn’t want a relationship.”

The camera zoomed down to the man’s knee, where the woman laid her hand. “I went out with a bunch of men because it felt like I was supposed to.” She shrugged. “But I just kept thinking about Ron.”

The dude laughed. “She was in denial, but I knew right away.”

The camera moved in close to their faces, and they looked into each other’s eyes. Then it zoomed down to her belly—her pregnant belly—and her hand, adorned with a wedding ring, rubbed her stomach. “Sometimes you just have to take a chance.”

The video then moved on to how he also took a chance and started his own business and needed impressive office space without the commitment and price tag. But I’d stopped listening.

I stood abruptly before they could even show the last video. “Good job. Run with it.”

I saw the confusion on my team’s faces as I walked toward the door. They looked at each other, silently asking what the hell was wrong with me. I just didn’t give a shit.

Later that night, my office phone rang. The caller ID said it was Logan. I didn’t feel like talking, but he’d called my cell earlier, so I figured I’d make sure everything was alright. Tossing my pen on the desk, I leaned back into my chair.

He started talking before I even said hello. “Remember the twins from Chi Omega? The gymnasts who had those juicy lips?”

I nodded. “Jenna and Justine. Jenna was a business major and Justine pre-med.”

“Whatever. I saw them in the elevator of my building today at work. Haven’t seen them in a few years.”

“How are they doing?”

“They’re fucking hotter than ever. That’s how they’re doing.”

“Are you calling to tell me you hooked up with them both? Because I really don’t want to hear the details.”

“No. I’m calling to tell you Jenna asked about you. She said she had the biggest crush on you back in college.”

“Oh yeah? That must’ve bruised your ego.”

“Not at all. I’ll take either one. I still can’t tell the difference anyway. We have plans with them Friday night.”

“We?”

“Yeah. The four of us.”

“No, thanks.”

“Dude…do you know how flexible they are?”

I still had no interest. I rubbed my eyes with one hand. “I’m not up for it.”

“They’ll get you up for it. Come on. What are you going to do? Spend the next year abstinent, only to drive out to Montauk with your hopes up on Memorial Day and have Valerie’s new, forty-year-old boyfriend answer the fucking door when you knock?”

My jaw flexed. “It’s Valentina.”

I should’ve never told him about what was going on with me, what went down this summer. But the day after I left him alone with the two women who’d tried to pick us up at the bar, he showed up at my office to ask what the hell was going on. And like a pussy, I unloaded my tale of woe on him.

But the thing was, I knew Logan—he could be relentless, and believe it or not, he was concerned about me. He just thought getting me laid was the way to make me feel better. I had no doubt that if I said no, he’d be standing in my office at some point tomorrow. I wouldn’t even put it past him to show up with the twins at my place Friday night.

“Fine.”

“Excellent.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “You won’t regret it, buddy. I’m telling you, that Janna had a twinkle in her eye when she said your name.”