Chapter 1

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"Oh, my god!" my friend, or better said new-in-the-process-of-becoming-friends friend, Anabel, exclaims loudly. "You just crushed me with some hot guy!"

"What kind of hot are we talking about?" I ask her, looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and rearranging my long, dark-brown locks that became messy from all the dancing we were doing.

While we wait our turn for a bathroom stall, I reapply dark-red lipstick on my full, heart-shaped lips. Lips that are the same color as the short, sexy dress I'm wearing. It clings to every curve of my body, not that I have a lot of those, but still. At almost five feet ten, I'm quite tall for a woman, and with my slender build, I'm more than the perfect candidate for a modeling career, which I take advantage of fully, thank you very much.

"Huge with a stone-strong body, messy dark hair, and dark eyes type of hot guy."

Looking at our reflection, I try not to roll my eyes at her.

Anabel Majer is the complete opposite of me. She is small and curvy, almost fragile. Even in her heels, that are practically the same height as mine, she is a foot shorter than me.

We both have long hair, but my ombré strands reach mid-back while her straight, raven hair falls way down, touching the curve of her ass. Her skin is like porcelain, creamy and perfect. But the most amazing thing about her looks are her eyes—big, oval, and the strangest, most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen in my life. Like two sapphires—bright, special, and rare.

Averting my eyes from her, once again I meet my own reflection.

Amber, almond-shaped eyes look back at me. They are like the whiskey that my dad loves to drink—warm and melted. But also, a little bit glassy from all the Mai Tais, margaritas, and other shit we've drunk tonight.

"I'm really sorry about that," I say sarcastically. Water flushes and girls exit the stalls, so we both take our turn.

After a minute, I'm out and washing my hands thoroughly. I hate going to public restrooms, no matter how pretty and modern, how clean they look on the outside. The public bathroom will always be a public bathroom, carrying germs and god only knows what.

"But seriously," Anabel continues when she joins me, "I didn't even get to say sorry before you pulled me away."

She is so obsessed with this guy!

I guess he has to be super hot for her to react that way. She didn't show much interest in anyone who came close to us tonight. Polite, but standoffish—that's Anabel. But that's simply my opinion. It's not like I know her well. Actually, we'd only met today.

I came to visit my sister after filming yet another commercial, but when I got to her house, the only person home was Anabel.

At first, I was surprised, but then I remembered Lisa, my older sister, mentioning something about looking for help with her daughters. Both her and her husband, Cole, work full-time and they have a lot of after work activities and meetings to attend so they decided to hire this live-in-nanny, Au pair or whatever it's called.

Anabel, who practically came from some small country on the other side of the world, will stay in the States with them for a year and help them look over my nieces, Ivy and Bella.

So far, she looks like a normal person. She is what I need—normal, grounded, simple—and I hope this won't be a one-time thing.

It's not like I don't have other friends to party with because I do, but like I said, I need normal.

A bunch of pretty girls who would turn their back on me if it was convenient for them doesn't qualify as normal. Not the kind I want, anyway.

"We can always go there so that you can say it," I suggest, wiggling my brows.

A giggle escapes me, and I wonder how many drinks have we had until now, but with all those heavy thoughts running through my mind I decide it can't have been too many.

"I don't think he's there. I think he was leaving the bar when we 'met up'." She draws quote marks in the air, and I can see that this whole situation is making her nervous.

"Well, then you are just lucky that I feel like drinking one more cocktail before going back to the dance floor, right?" I tease.

Before she manages to escape, I take her hand in mine and start toward the doors.

No matter what she says, Anabel wants to meet this guy, so she'll meet him. And I ... well, I'll be close to the bar and get another drink. Maybe that will make me erase all the thoughts out of my mind. Maybe it'll make me forget everything and lose myself, at least for one night.



"Hey there, quiet boy."

I look down, way down, to some silly, half-drunk girl trying her hardest to look confident and grown up. Her voice is low, just enough for me to hear, and slurred. I guess it's supposed to sound sexy and confident, but it's far from it.

"There is nothing boyish about me," I say in the same, low voice.

I take her in—her tight, short dress and hooker-high heels make her look older, even cheap, and that comes from a guy who has seen his fair share of women in his life.

I don't know what guys see in this group of girls because that's all they are. Girls. Probably still going to college. But that small thing hanging from my arm so she doesn't fall on her ass doesn't do anything for me.

There is no spark or a hint of interest in any woman that I've been around in a long time. Maybe I'm getting old, as the guys like to point out, but at the age of thirty, I don't feel old. I can't think of myself as old because the day I do I can easily hang my cleats and retire from the NFL.

She gives me something that should look like a sly smile and purrs: "You sure as hell don't look small." For emphasis her hand wanders under the table and down my stomach. I barely manage to catch it before it connects with my crotch.

In that moment, I hear William, the last member of our little group and my best friend, mention drinks and the words can't come out of my mouth fast enough. "I'll go with you." Getting up and moving away from the table is the only thing on my mind.

As I move away, I hear Matt calling. I don't want to look back, but does William hear him or not? When I turn around, I see William stumbling a little, his brown eyes looking with distress at the crowd swallowing this dark-haired chick.

"What the fuck was that?" I ask him.

"The hell if I know."

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