On the other hand, I knew he was leaving soon. Very soon. So there wasn’t really anything to fuck up. I just wanted to see him again.

But he didn’t text, and I didn’t either. Nicola and Steph did though, completely freaking out. When my phone finally charged this morning, I had a billion frantic texts from them all pouring in at once. I didn’t want to divulge too much information, so I told them that my phone had died and that we’d rescued some dogs. Neither of them knew what to say to that.

Later, Steph told me to come to the Lion for a drink. And stupid, silly me, I did. Because I thought there might be a chance that Lachlan would be there.

I decided to make myself look extra pretty. Put a few waves in my hair. Contoured up my face. Slicked on liquid liner. I squeezed myself into a snake-print leopard skirt, black high heels, and a black lace top. I looked pretty damn good.

I sashayed my way into the Lion, electric flutters in my stomach, my eyes casing the joint, hoping to see the big, bad Scot somewhere. Steph and Linden were in a booth, but I knew from the moment they spotted me and Steph gave me a hesitant wave that something was off.

I slowed my pace, my fingers anxiously twitching at my side. “Hey,” I said.

“Looking good, Kayla,” Linden commented, and I eyed him suspiciously, wondering if that was the truth or he was just trying to “be nice” like Steph had told us to.

“Thanks.” I looked at Stephanie, but she wasn’t meeting my eyes. “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“Well, nothing,” she said. She patted the seat beside her. “Sit down. You look pretty. Is there a special occasion?”

I gave her the stinkeye. “Do I normally not look pretty? Why would I need an occasion?” I sat down. “So…” I looked around. “Is Bram here?”

“Not yet,” Linden said.

I stared hopefully at Steph, hoping she would read my mind. She looked down at the cider in her hands instead.

I cleared my throat. “How did you guys like the rest of the concert?” I asked. “I missed the last part...”

“It was good, yeah. Good.” Linden took a swig of his beer.

I sighed and bit the bullet. “Do you guys know if Lachlan is coming here later?”

“I don’t know,” Linden said. A little too quickly.

I turned to Stephanie and punched her lightly on the arm. “Hey, what’s going on? Why are you guys being all weird?”

Steph exchanged a look with Linden and chewed on her lip before facing me.

“You and Lachlan,” she said cautiously. “You guys just kissed last night, right?”

I jerked my head back. “Yeah. What…why does that matter?”

She swallowed thickly and looked at Linden again. “Well, I just wanted to make sure how freaked out you would or wouldn’t get. If you just kissed, then you should be fine with it.”

“Fine with what? What the hell, Stephanie? Just say it.”

“He’s on a date with Justine,” she said, and then quickly downed the rest of her cider.

My heart lurched. Actually lurched, like it was saying goodbye to my chest and moving on out. “What?”

She shrugged. “Linden told me.”

I turned to him, as if it was all his fault. “Bram told me,” he said defensively. “Sorry, Kayla. I’m sure it’s just for business. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Ugh. I wanted to be sick. “How do you know that?”

“She doesn’t seem like his type.”

“Well, neither do I and…” I paused and shook my head. “Fuck. Fuck this shit. I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not,” Steph said. “It’s just a date.”

“No, I know that,” I told her, rather harshly. “He’s leaving soon, so what’s the difference, right? I’m just such an idiot for caring. Like, Jesus. One kiss and I’m fucking broken-hearted that he’s gone on some date. Who is this Kayla? I don’t like her.”

“Hey,” Steph said, putting her hand on my shoulder and shaking me. “It’s okay to care, you know. I’ve never seen you care before. Maybe it’s a good thing…to know what you want in the future.”

I shrugged away from her. In that moment I didn’t want to hear any of that crap. “But what I want is now on a date with some rich bitch he’s been on a few dates with before. I just…ugh. Whatever. I’m out of here.”

I angrily slid out of the booth and got to my feet. I left the bar in a cloud of defeat and went straight back home. I kept berating myself over and over again for the feelings that were moving through me like a swarm of hornets.

This was exactly what I didn’t want. This was why I decided to shun off men. I thought that by avoiding sex I could avoid disappointment, but I hadn’t even had the chance to fuck him yet, and here I was, disappointed as hell.

So now I’m in my apartment, curled up on the couch with a few glasses of wine in me. I’m “Netflix and chilling” without having anyone to chill with. The wine is dulling the anger, but not that weird sickly feeling in my chest. I go through nearly an entire season of New Girl, hoping Schmidt and Nick will make me laugh, but finding myself getting sadder. More pathetic.

This is bullshit.

I lie back on the couch and stare at the ceiling. I want to rewind the last few weeks and pretend I never went to the Lion that one night, that I’d never seen Lachlan McGregor because before that, I was doing fucking fine. Then I had to see his goddamn stupid beautiful face and become an obsessive, desperate horndog. How could this man, how could any man, do this to me, render me so bare and vulnerable? That was never part of the plan. I wanted to get under his skin, not the other way around. I was supposed to come out of this game on top, fighting through the challenge of it all and getting what I wanted.

I was supposed to be the player here.

I want to pull up the edges of my black heart and pull it around me like a blanket. From now on, the moment I feel myself being lured by anything other than the physical, I’m out. I’m sticking to my damn vow, and if it ever does break one day, it’s for just sex and nothing more. Anything more than sex isn’t Kayla friendly.

I start to drift off, feeling better about my new plan, my new resolve. I want the dreams to take me away and tomorrow I’ll start a new me. The old me.

The apartment buzzer goes off, making me jolt. I inhale sharply and look at my phone for the time, but I turned it off a while ago, not wanting to be disturbed. It’s probably Steph coming to check up on me. I could have used her earlier in the night when I was a ball of rage, ready to bitch and ramble on, but now I am more subdued, sleepy, and kind of drunk, and not in the mood to talk about anything.

I walk over to the buzzer and press the button.

“Steph?”

“Uh, no,” says the deep Scottish brogue over the speaker. “It’s not.”

I freeze. My heart hammers.

Oh shit. Lachlan?

“Hello?” he says again. “Kayla? Can I please speak with you?”

No, no, no. Definitely not. Think of your plan, the new old you, I tell myself.

But I still press the button to let him in.

Fuck.

I look down at what I’m wearing. The fucking t-shirt he lent me and nothing else.

Oh god. I need to change. I need to fix my face, my hair. I need to not let him in.

But seconds later he’s knocking at the door.

I breathe in deeply, trying not to let those dumbass, unwanted, unwarranted emotions get the best of me. Be cool, girl, I tell myself. Like ice.

I slide the chain across and open the door.

Lachlan is standing there. In a fucking suit and tie. Hair slicked back, just enough stubble on that angular jaw. Perma-frown. Towering over me like some well-dressed god.

Oh my god. I am so doomed.

“Just come from a wedding?” I attempt a joke. My mouth is drier than a desert.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his shoulders hunched up. “Please?”

Be cool, be cool.

“Sure,” I say, opening the door wider with a shrug, pretending I’m not hurt, not mad, and definitely not wearing just his t-shirt.