Chat Love (11 page)

Jackson snaps his fingers, getting the bartender’s attention. “Hey, mate, can I have three blowjobs?”

I shake my head and try my best to be rational. I know that if I stay any longer, something will probably happen with Jackson, and I don’t want to be just another notch on his bedpost. Plus, it appears that Caitlin is determined to get Jackson into her bed.

“Just two shots,” I say, a little too loudly, my nerves steadying. “Thank you, bartender.”

Jackson turns to me with a look of confusion on his face. I grab my coat and purse. “I’m going to go home. You guys have a good night,” I say as I turn and walk away.

I know that I have to leave and go home so that nothing will happen that I might later regret. But before I make it out the door, someone has grabbed my arm. I whip around and come face to face with Jackson, his blue eyes staring me down.

“Hey, why are you leaving?” he asks.

I bite my lip and close my eyes, trying my best to appear aloof. “Honestly?” He nods his head, still holding onto my arm. “OK, I’ll be honest. Jackson, I know that if I stay, there’s a good chance that something will happen between us.”

His lip curls up just slightly. “Would it be bad if something were to happen?”

“Jackson, you know that it wouldn’t be a good idea. We can hardly stand each other at work and—”

He cuts me off, “And we’re not at work now.” He steps closer, “There’s nothing wrong with us having our fun when we’re not working.”

As much as I am yearning for his touch, I know that I don’t want that kind of relationship again. I have to focus on moving forward, not taking steps backward. I want a real relationship and spending a night with Jackson would be a mistake.

“I think that’s a bad idea.” I look past Jackson and see Caitlin glaring at us, holding the shots they had just ordered. “Anyway, I think Caitlin is waiting for you, so I’m just going to go home now and you can get back to her.”

Jackson licks his lips. “What if I don’t want you to go home? What if I want you to stay here with me?”

I shake my head, “Jackson, it’s just the booze talking. This stupid holiday doesn’t help, with the way it puts pressure on people.”

Jackson laughs deeply and I feel insulted. He notices my hurt expression and apologizes. “I’m sorry, Lucia, but to me, Valentine’s Day is just another day.”

I pull my arm from his grasp, “Well it isn’t to me. I’m sick of feeling the way I do. Today, the way Steven and Meghan were looking at each other, I want that, not this!”

“You believe that bullshit?”

I cross my arms. “Bullshit? You think love is bullshit? You would.”

He runs his hand through his hair. “Not exactly, but I do think that it’s overrated. And I also think that Steven Black and Meghan Moore were acting today.”

“Well, I disagree. I think love is real and I want the kind of love that they have. The same kind that Skyler and Dave have. I’m sorry that you feel the way you do, because you’ll just end up alone. And that’s where we’re different, Jackson: I don’t want to be alone.”

I see anger flash in his eyes as he growls, “You don’t know me, Lucia. I’m rarely alone. I have a different bird in my bed every other night.”

“And I’m not going to be just another one of your birds,” I shoot back angrily.

“Jackson, come here! I want to do this shot already!” We both turn to see a petulant Caitlin, attempting to look seductive in spite of her drunken wobbliness.

Jackson turns to me with his eyebrow raised. “See, I won’t be alone. I’ve got Caitlin to keep me company.”

“You are such a pig.” I turn and walk out the door. As I wait for a taxi my heart aches, leading me to wonder if I had truly wanted to spend the night with Jackson, or if I had just wanted somebody to sleep with.

Am I so lonely that I’m willing to settle for anybody
? I know that I’m attracted to Jackson, but maybe it’s just a physical attraction, and nothing more. As I climb into a cab, questions buzzing in my mind like bees, I know one thing for certain: I deserve better than lust; I deserve love.

I am sitting on my couch, dressed in my baggiest sweats, with my hair pulled up into a messy bun. On the table in front of me sit my computer, a half-eaten box of Mexican takeout, and a near-empty bottle of chardonnay. The couch has comfortably molded itself around my rear, as I’ve spent the entire day sitting here adjusting my profile, searching for potential dates, and answering e-mails on Chat Love.

I have been talking to several men, getting to know them and setting up dates. It feels good to know that I’m not the only lonely person spending their Valentine’s Day on a dating website.

While I was busy stuffing my face and lounging, Autumn had been busy getting her nails and hair done while shopping for the perfect outfit to wear on her date tonight with John—a short, strapless, red sequin cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline. After seeking my assistance in getting ready for her date, she’d finally left the apartment in a flurry of excitement, promising to deliver details tomorrow. Now I’m completely alone again. Hooray.

Bothered by the fact that I’ve literally spent eight hours in the same position, I decide to sign off for the evening. My eyes hurt and my fingers ache from all the typing, so a break is probably in my best interest. Plus, I’ve learned more about how to navigate the site, and even scheduled a few dates, so I’m starting to feel positive about the whole online dating experience.

Thinking about dating at all only serves to remind me that I haven’t had a Valentine’s date in years. I’ve had a few offers here and there, but I usually refuse to go on a date for the mere sake of having a date on Valentine’s Day. After all, isn’t it a holiday designed for people to share their love for one another? Why would I want to spend the holiday on a date with someone I wasn’t in love with? Plus, the day is designed to put more pressure on dating, and the last thing I need is any more pressure when it comes to romance.

I walk into the kitchen, opening the drawer where we keep the takeout menus, ready to order dinner, watch a sappy romance movie, and cry. As I’m shuffling through the menus my phone rings, showing Danni’s name on the display. I pick it up immediately and plaster a fake smile on my face, even though I know she can’t see it.

“Let me guess, you’re ordering some fatty food to eat while you watch a depressing movie? And, you’ve already finished an entire bottle of wine.”

I laugh. “Well, not the whole bottle. I left a little bit to drink with dinner.”

Danni laughs at my joke and continues, “What would you do without me? Be at my apartment in two hours.”

“What? Why?” I ask, torn between wanting to enjoy my pity party and wanting to see my friend.

“Because I’m having my annual party celebrating the fact that Valentine’s Day is a fake holiday, that’s why. You should just expect this by now.”

I chuckle, realizing that I’d forgotten all about it. Since her divorce, Danni had thrown a party for single, lonely friends on Valentine’s Day designed to celebrate all of the holiday’s flaws. I’d gone every year and had a blast, cheerfully hating the holiday that made being single feel like a crime. In all honesty, it had been the perfect way to celebrate in the past. But this year, I’d assumed that she wouldn’t be throwing one, considering we were supposed to be growing up and maturing. Obviously, I was wrong.

I hear Danni moving furniture as she reminds me, “Remember the rules: no wearing red, pink, hearts, anything symbolizing love, or anything else that might resemble Valentine’s Day in any way. And don’t forget the cardinal rule: no dates allowed.”

I sigh. “Danni, I can’t believe you are still having this party. Aren’t we a little old to be acting like this?”

“Acting like what, Lu? Like people who aren’t willing to bow down to society and believe that there’s anything wrong with being single in February? I plan on having this party every year until either the day I die or the day I get remarried, whichever comes first. The way things are looking, I’ll die twice before I ever get married again, so you might as well just go ahead and mark it on your calendar for next year and the year after that. You’d better be here in two hours, no exceptions. I need to finish getting ready, so I’ll see you later. “She hangs up and I groan out loud as I begin slowly dragging my feet in the direction of the shower.

A couple of hours later, I arrive at Danni’s apartment and the party is already in full swing. I’m no longer in my sweat pants, and I feel stylish in my off-the-shoulder blouse, skinny jeans, and leopard high heels with my hair down and straight.

Danni owns a nice condo on the Upper West Side. She earns a generous salary, with added perks, and lives a very comfortable life. Her condo has two bedrooms, allowing her to use one as an extra-large walk-in closet, filling it with clothes, handbags, and shoes. The kitchen is large, newly tiled, and filled with a collection of state-of-the-art appliances that Danni never uses. Her living room contains only black furniture, with the exception of a massive, red couch in the shape of a pair of lips. She keeps her bedroom off-limits to guests, so the door is almost always closed and locked. The two bedrooms are situated at opposite ends of the condo, each accompanied by an adjoining bathroom. However, the best feature of Danni’s home is her balcony, which provides a perfect view of the city. Danni’s apartment, although somewhat modern and cold, is nevertheless stunning. However, she rarely spends the night at home, considering that she is typically out having dinner meetings with clients, traveling, or spending the night at the apartment of one of her boy toys. Danni never allows men to stay at her place; she considers it to be far too personal.

Tonight, her apartment is decorated with defaced versions of typical Valentine’s decor. There are ripped hearts, posters featuring expletive-enhanced sweet sayings, and black streamers everywhere. Danni is wearing a short black dress, her long hair flowing freely down her exposed back. She looks gorgeous, as usual.

Danni’s annual parties were always popular, but the number of people in attendance had started to steadily shrink over the past few years. This year’s bash featured a small collection of mutual friends and coworkers, along with Ian, Corey, Wayne, and me. As I look around the room, I’m given a much-needed reminder that I am not the only person my age left single on Valentine’s Day.

After just a couple of hours, most of the guests—myself included—have already had too much to drink. As Danni’s traditional playlist of anti-love songs loops in the background, I am talking with Wayne and taking an opportunity to rest after my recent round of dancing. Meanwhile, Danni is busy dancing with Ian in the middle of the room, while Corey is enjoying a make-out session with a woman I’ve never seen before. It certainly appears that everyone is enjoying their holiday.

Wayne and I continue to talk, both pausing occasionally to take sips of our drinks; he is drinking vodka, and I’m working on another glass of champagne. Despite the surrounding atmosphere, we’ve actually been having a fairly deep conversation, which I can only assume has something to do with the alcohol. Suddenly, Wayne changes the topic.

“I saw Laurie on Chat Love last night.”

My eyes go wide with surprise. “You mean your ex?”

He adjusts his glasses and takes another sip of his drink. “Yeah, that’s the one. I looked at her profile, and she is still as beautiful as I remember.”

I put my hand on his leg in an attempt to comfort him. “You didn’t contact her, did you?” I ask.

He swallows the rest of his drink in one large gulp. “I wrote her an e-mail.” Noticing my facial expression he quickly adds, “Just to see how she’s doing.” I raise my eyebrow and give him a purposeful look. “OK, fine,” he groans, “I may have also asked if she wanted to have dinner with me.”

“Wayne, why would you do that to yourself?” I ask, trying to avoid sounding judgmental. “I thought you were excited about starting over and finding a new relationship. I don’t want you to get hurt again!”

“Lu, I was never excited,” he confesses. “Who truly gets excited about dating? There’s nothing exciting about getting your hopes up, feeling nervous for hours, and then later facing disappointment or rejection. Plus, dating is pretty expensive. Women don’t have to spend a penny on a first date, but I sure do. It’s just a hassle.”

I squeeze his knee sympathetically. “Wayne, Laurie was not the woman for you. She is a bitch, a liar, and a cheater, and you deserve so much better than that.”

He hangs his head, looking sad and defeated. “I am just so sick of being alone, Lu. I miss what I had with her.”

“I know,” I agree, “but things can always get better. It’s difficult to remember that now, but I know you’ll realize it when you finally meet someone who deserves your love. If you think what you had with Laurie was great, wait until you meet someone who deserves you.”

He gives me a small smile and nods, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. “Thanks, Lu. I’m just not used to being single on Valentine’s Day, I guess. I know that this party is supposed to make me feel better about being single, but it really just reminds me of how much I don’t want to be.”

Suddenly I feel the back of my neck tingle as someone’s hand lightly toys with my hair.

“Well, if it isn’t the famed Lucia Fabbo, out and about for the evening.”

My eyes close; I recognize the velvety voice immediately. I turn around to see Jackson Foster, looking as handsome as he ever has, smirking at me. Jackson looks down at Wayne’s hand clutching mine and cocks an eyebrow.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks.

I pull my hand away and narrow my eyes at Jackson, “What are you doing here?”

He puts his hands in his pocket and shrugs. “A mate of mine was invited and asked me if I’d like to come along. I’m never one to turn down a party.” He flashes a grin. “I am surprised to see you here, though. I thought you’d be out on a date.”

“And I thought you would be in bed with one of your flings,” I grumble.

He gives me a wink. “The night is still young, dear.”

I groan and rise, pushing my way past him and heading toward the kitchen. I walk in and pour myself another glass of champagne. When I reenter the living room I am surprised to see Jackson talking to Danni, his hand resting on her lower back. Danni is leaning into him, her lips near his ear, whispering something that elicits a laugh from Jackson.