Virtue and Vice

Chapter Thirteen

“I don’t know, Em,” I said with a resigned shake of my head as we walked home. “I’m too busy to date.”

“You’ve been saying that in the last four years,” Emma replied sternly. “How many dates have you been out on in all that time? Ten, twelve?”

“Eight, because I don’t count the group dates,” I answered sulkily. “It’s not my fault that no one was interested enough to make a go for it.”

Emma’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You were so picky! There was always something wrong with the guy. You kept giving them excuses as to why you couldn’t go see a movie with them or meet up for coffee after school. They all eventually gave up.”

“Jackson seemed pretty interested—until he started making excuses for God knows what reasons.”

Jackson Marsh was the only guy in college that I had been more than a little interested in. He was cute and hunky and sweet. I met him at a pep rally in my third year and he seemed very eager at first, calling me and inviting me out all the time. We went on four dates in total, the last of which we concluded with some pretty steamy kissing inside his car. He didn’t call me for a week after that. When I called him, he bumbled through some pretty lousy excuses that I decided to drop him completely.

I didn’t actively prevent myself from dating in college.

In fact, I had been convinced I should do it. 

It was healthy for me to enjoy my youth and meet other guys instead of letting my thoughts constantly drift to a man I would do well to forget.

But no one had intrigued me. 

No one had sparked anything in me but friendliness.

I decided not to force it—that if it was going to happen, it should happen naturally. Forcing matters just made me seem more desperate and I didn’t want that.

Later that evening, Ty and Emma picked me up on our way to Bar None.

It was a very high-end kind of club—swanky, polished and hip—easily attracting young professionals and the rich crowd. 

“Cassandra!”

I scanned the crowd as we walked through the door and easily spotted Bradley in his lime green and pink striped shirt. He was over at a corner booth with a guy I recognized as Liam from the pictures he showed me, along with Chad, Sasha from the reception desk whom I learned this week was sleeping with Chad, Annette, Miriam, and Tamara’s secretary Justine.

We sauntered over to them and I made the introductions.

They all quickly warmed to Emma and Ty—they were hard to dislike—and invited them to squeeze into the booth.

Emma sweetly declined, telling them we were meeting up with her cousin too and that they were going to return me as soon we found him.

“He said he’s got a table by the DJ,” Emma said as she fiddled with her phone, reading a text message as Ty shepherded us through the dance floor. 

Emma paused and craned her head around, suddenly seizing my shoulder excitedly.

“There he is!” She waved at the direction of the more secluded booths at what looked like a loft area near the stage where the DJ was spinning some tracks. “Marcus!”

I followed her, Ty trailing behind me, and I ducked my head slightly to avoid the swerving trays from passing waitresses and the flailing arms from the crowd gathered in the dance floor.

Emma released me as she lunged forward to hug a guy who got up on his feet at our approach.

“Hey, Ems, good to see you.”