Chance Encounters Page 5

  Luckily, if the amount of empty beer cans that were littered around the couch and coffee table were anything to go by, she’d be out until I left for work tomorrow morning. At least that gave me another twenty-four hours of peace before she went off on her next tangent.

  With a heavy sigh, I plopped down on my bed, resting my back against a stack of pillows tucked against my headboard, and lifted my cell phone to my ear.

  Constance answered on the third ring. “Hey, sweetie. Hang on just one second—Deacon! So help me God, if you don’t get your behind off your brother’s head this instant you’ll be sorry!”

  I giggled as she shouted the house down on the other end of the phone. Constance had been married to her husband Frank for the past eight years. They’d been high school sweethearts who turned into college sweethearts who married shortly after graduation. She’d deny it, since she blamed her husband for the fact that they had three little boys all under the age of six, but she was blissfully happy with her life. Even when her boys ran her ragged… like they seemed to be doing right at that moment.

  “Sorry about that,” she sighed, coming back to me. “Deacon decided today that sitting on Landon’s head was a good idea. I swear, Mel. They’re going to drive me crazy.”

  “You’re already crazy,” I laughed, the sounds of three rowdy boys echoing through the line.

  “Yeah, then they’re going to drive me to drink.”

  Knowing my best friend as well as I did, I had no doubt there was already a glass of wine in her hand. But I wisely chose not to mention that. She was a stay-at-home mother of three rambunctious little boys while her husband worked from sun up to sun down in the construction field to provide for his family. I imagined a little wine was necessary.

  “I take it Frank hasn’t made it home from work yet?”

  “Should be walking through the door any minute now, thank God. Do you know what I had to deal with today?” she asked, but kept talking before I could inquire. “I had to scrub poop out of the living room carpet. Poop, Melany!”

  I did my best to choke back the peal of laughter that wanted to escape. “So I take it potty training isn’t going too well?”

  She let out a long breath. “You could say that. Hell, I’m lucky if I can get Patrick to keep his damn pull-up on. He’s going through the phase where he thinks it’s hilarious to strip naked and run through the house screaming.”

  I lost my fight and busted out laughing.

  “Today was the final straw, Melly. Frank’s getting a vasectomy whether he wants one or not.”

  She was all talk. Her boys might occasionally drive her up the wall, but she was crazy about every single one of them. And she was still hopeful to get the little girl she’d always wanted, so I let her comment slide and listened as she ranted, knowing she needed a few minutes to let off a little steam with me in order to get back to being a kick-ass mother and wife to her family.

  It didn’t take too long for her to run out of steam and ask, “So, what’s new with you?”

  I hadn’t said a word to her about my ludicrous plan to ask Chance for his help making me more self-confident. Even though it was my own harebrained idea, I couldn’t help but think it was more than just a little ridiculous. But now the plan was underway and I felt the intense need to confide in the only person I trusted.

  “I did something today. Something so out of character you wouldn’t believe it.”

  “Well don’t leave me in suspense,” she stated when I trailed off. “What did you do?”

  For the next half hour, I spilled my guts about everything; about how I met Chance at the engagement party and was immediately drawn in by his confidence, how he caught on to the fact I was crushing on Logan in a matter of seconds, how I made a fool of myself in front of him and Logan, how I finally caved and asked him for help. By the time I reached the part of the story where Chance took me out to buy an entirely new wardrobe, I thought Constance would pass out from excitement.

  “Melly!” she shouted so loud I had to pull the phone from my ear. “Oh my God! This is great!”

  That most certainly wasn’t the reaction I’d been expecting. “You don’t think I’m nuts for doing this? I mean, I asked a guy I hardly even know to help me get a guy I’ve secretly been in love with who doesn’t even know I exist.”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s the most conventional way to go about things,” she answered. “But then, you aren’t the most conventional person on the planet, are you?”

  I grinned into the phone. “Is that your polite way of calling me crazy?”

  Constance’s laugh rang through, loud and clear. “Neither of us is totally sane, sweetheart. That’s why we’re best friends.”

  “Valid point,” I agreed, giggling.

  “But seriously, babe. I think this is awesome! Not just the new clothes—even though I’ve been telling you for, like, ever that you needed to actually show off that killer body of yours—but the fact that you’re finally ready to really put yourself out there and start living. That bitch of a mother of yours has had you convinced your entire life that you aren’t good enough. It’s bullshit, and I’m freaking thrilled you’re finally realizing that. Beside myself, honey. I’m going to celebrate on your behalf with an additional glass or two of wine while I’m in the bath after the boys are asleep and I have a free moment to think tonight. That’s how ecstatic I am.”

  My smile was so big it nearly swallowed my face. I hadn’t realized until that very moment just how much I needed my friend’s support. “Whoa,” I said past the swell of emotion in my throat. “That’s pretty excited.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. And as your best friend, I demand we get together soon so you can show me all your new, fancy clothes. In the meantime, I’ll settle for selfies.”

  “You know I love you, right?”

  “And I love you, back, Melly. Dammit —Landon! Put your clothes back on!” Just then, shrieks of laughter radiated through the line and I knew the boys were at it again. I let her go so she could take care of them, with the promise of multiple pictures and a dinner date in the near future.

  I might have been a shut-in. I might have lived inside my head most of my life in an attempt to keep people away. But I’d lucked out when it came to my best friend. I’d take one Constance over a million wishy-washy friends every time.

  After hanging up, I hopped in the shower, taking time to shave above my knee since most of my new skirts hit a little higher than my old ones. I brushed out my hair and let it air dry into its normal flat, pin-straight style before crawling onto my bed and turning my TV on.

  I was on my third DVR’d episode of Criminal Minds, and in the middle of an at-home pedicure, the one and only girly vice I had—I changed my polish religiously, always going for bright, vibrant colors since I could hide my toes from my mother—when my cell phone rang. Rebellion at its best.

  My forehead wrinkled as I stared down at the Unknown Caller listed on my screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Melany.”

  My back shot straight. “Chance? How’d you get my number?”

  His deep, gravelly chuckle came through the phone and caused goose bumps to break out across my skin. He had a really nice laugh. “I got your phone from your purse when you were in the dressing room.”

  “Wow. That’s not an invasion of privacy at all,” I deadpanned.

  “You can thank me later—”

  “Thank you for stealing my phone?”

  I could actually hear the smile in his voice as he talked through the line. “What you consider stealing, I consider a necessity. I needed your number so I could call to set up the next phase of the plan.”

  I hated to admit it, but I was actually a little intrigued by what he had in store. Reaching for the bottle of bright red nail polish on my nightstand, I stuck the brush back in and screwed it closed. “All right. So what’s next?”

  “I’m taking you to lunch tomorrow.”

  I set the bottle back down and grabbed th
e remote, pausing my show as I asked, “How is you taking me to lunch supposed to help me land Logan?”

  He sighed like I should already know the answer to that question. “We’re going to work on your flirting skills. You can’t expect to get a guy’s attention if you can’t even make eye contact with him, Melany. It’s all part of building up your self-esteem.”

  A sudden spike of dread pierced through my chest. “But… I don’t have any skills, Chance! I wouldn’t know the first thing about flirting!” I was going to hyperventilate. There was no doubt about it. I could already feel the invisible hands squeezing my chest at just the thought of having to interact with a member of the opposite sex.

  “I can’t do that, Chance. Like, seriously. It’ll be so bad. So, so, so bad. Humiliating—”

  “Calm down, Melany. Just calm down,” he ordered in a soft voice. “Relax. See? This is why you need practice. And I’ll be right there to help you. Trust me.”

  The grip on my chest loosened, but didn’t let go completely. “You keep saying I should trust you, but then you come up with crazy shit like this.”

  “It’s not crazy. It’s an awesome idea. I’ll swing by your office at noon to get you.”

  “Wait. Chance—” But the line was already dead.

  He sounded way too excited about the prospect of teaching me to flirt. All I could do was hope I didn’t make a complete ass out of myself. But if my past was anything to go by, tomorrow was going to be a train wreck.

  The whole day had been such a big step out of my comfort zone that I couldn’t help but get wrapped up in my past. And the idea of Chance taking me out in public to hone my flirting skills just made everything so much worse. When I went to bed that night, I dreamed about that third and final terrible encounter that had me retreating to that world inside my head for the past ten years, content to live there all alone.

  I peeled my eyelids open, awoken by the sounds of whispered voices. The bedroom was dark, the midnight sky outside the window indicating it was still night time, but thanks to the moonlight shining through the slats of the blinds, I could see the room I was lying in was a complete pigsty. At first I was confused by my unfamiliar surroundings; that was, until I shifted under the scratchy sheets and an uncomfortable ache between my legs caused me to gasp. Then the memories of what transpired hours ago came rushing back, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  I hadn’t wanted to come to the stupid frat party at first, but when Constance continued to push the issue, claiming I was in desperate need of “the college experience,” I finally caved. We were already well into our second year, and all I’d managed to do was stay cooped up in my dorm room studying.

  My best friend had been beside herself with glee when I told her I’d go, but I had one condition… if I was going to step out of my comfort zone to go to a party full of drunk frat boys and sorority girls, she was going to let me wear what I wanted. She hated my baggy, shapeless clothes, but they were sort of like a security blanket to me. They allowed me to blend in with the background when things became too much to handle.

  She wasn’t happy, but she relented. So off we went.

  I spent the first hour of the party tucked into a corner partially hidden by a dying ficus, sipping room temperature beer from a red Solo cup. Constance had been adamant that she remain by my side, but when Frank arrived, I pushed her off, telling her to spend time with her boyfriend and leave me be.

  I started to consider sneaking out and sending her a text that I’d gotten a headache and was heading back to our dorm when the most bizarre thing happened. A good-looking guy wearing a polo shirt with a Kappa Phi symbol on his chest came up and started talking to me.

  He was cute and polite. We talked for hours, and as the night progressed and the beer flowed, I became convinced that he was actually into me. I felt loose and carefree for the first time in years. So I did something completely out of character and nodded in agreement when he asked if I wanted to go to his room.

  I wasn’t naïve. I didn’t think that this was the start of my epic fairy tale romance, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t turn into something, right? Besides, I was sick and tired of wearing my virginity like some sort of scarlet letter. I was ready to get rid of it once and for all. And Chris had been a complete gentleman all night long.

  “Dude. I can’t believe you banged the bag lady,” an unfamiliar voice snickered from outside the partially opened bedroom door. More voices chimed in, echoing the disbelief. From what I could tell, there were at least ten guys standing out in the hallway.

  I reached across the mattress in search of Chris, only to encounter cold sheets in his place. That was when I heard him.

  “Hey, a bet’s a bet, right? You assholes owe me a hundred bucks for sticking it to the ugly chick.”

  There was more laughter. Then another guy spoke up. “Hey, the uggos need some lovin’, too, bro. She should be thankful you were willing to deflower her. Way she looks, she’d probably be a virgin the rest of her life if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Yeah, who the fuck would want to tap that for free?” another guy chuckled.

  The insults just kept coming. “Was it like fucking a cold, dead fish?” “Did she cry when it was over?” “Bet she wakes up thinking you’re the love of her life. Man, you better run for the hills.”

  Oh God. My chest hurt. It was a crushing pain I couldn’t rub away, no matter how hard I tried. I was a bet. A BET! Chris hadn’t liked me, he just wanted to use me for a lousy hundred dollars. I was a joke.

  “Bro, go wake her up already. We need her picture for the Walk of Shame Wall. She’ll be a top contender for the Ugliest Girl for sure!”

  Pure, unadulterated shame coursed through my veins as I jumped from the bed and silently started scrounging around on the dirty floor for my clothes. There was no way in hell I was going out into that hallway so those assholes could take my picture and mock me some more. I was mortified enough as it was. I refused to let them make it worse.

  Luckily, Chris had a small balcony off his bedroom with a rickety pergola that led to the ground. I’d take a broken ankle or tetanus over those bastards any day of the week. Shooting a prayer heavenward, I slowly started my descent, holding my breath the entire time until my feet landed safely on the dead, crunchy grass.

  Then I ran… and I never went to another party again.

  I woke with a start, a cold sweat coating my skin as the nightmare of that night slowly ebbed away.

  “Shit,” I whispered into my dark bedroom, placing a hand over my rapidly beating heart. The glaring numbers on the clock said it was only a little after two in the morning, but I knew there was no chance of me getting back to sleep. Not after that dream.

  “This was a big mistake,” I mumbled to myself as I fell back against my pillow. “A big, big mistake.”

  But something told me there was no way in hell Chance was going to let me quit now. I was well and truly stuck… and I had no one to blame but myself.

  Chapter 6

  Chance

  I HADN’T BEEN fully prepared for what I was going to see when I made my way to Melany’s desk the following day. She’d clearly taken our shopping excursion seriously and was wearing one of the new outfits Pepper had helped her pick out—a form-fitting navy blue dress with tiny sleeves and a neckline that hit just low enough to show the perfect fucking amount of cleavage.

  The dress stopped just below her knees, but hugged her hips and ass all the way down, showing off those luscious curves no one had known existed. She wore a pair of tan pumps with a high heel that worked like a miracle to complete the “sexy assistant” look.

  Even with her face free of makeup and her hair lying straight, she was a walking wet dream.

  “You look nice,” I said, once I came to a stop at her desk.

  She scrunched her face up in unhappiness as she stood from her chair, bending over to pull her purse from a bottom drawer, giving everyone in the vicinity a good look at her perfectly round ass. “I feel rid
iculous,” she grumbled as she stood to her full height and made her way to me.

  It wasn’t until she got closer that I noticed the faint purple smudges below her eyes, like she hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before. “Hey,” I said softly, grasping her chin gently and tilting her face to mine. “You okay?”

  A tiny smile graced her lips. Even being so small, it was still beautiful. “I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well. But thanks for asking.”

  The number of appreciative looks Melany got as we headed toward the elevators wasn’t lost on me, but she didn’t seem to have a clue she was attracting most of the male attention in the office. She was too busy watching the ground as she walked. “I’ve almost face-planted three times today because of these shoes.”

  “You’ll get used to them,” I coaxed, placing my hand at the small of her back to lead her onto the elevator. “Ready to get your flirt on?”

  She dropped her head and her shoulders slumped as she groaned. “I think I’m going to puke.”

  “You’re not going to puke.”

  “I totally am.”

  “No, you’re not. Would you just relax?”

  Her nose wrinkled adorably as we walked out of the building onto the busy sidewalk. “Don’t tell me I’m not going to puke. You’re not inside my head. You don’t know.”

  Goddamn. Any other woman and I’d have probably bailed, annoyed as shit at her self-deprecation, but there was just something about Melany. She wasn’t the typical over-critical woman most men were used to.

  You know the ones I’m talking about: “Does my butt look fat in these pants?” “Do you think I should lose weight?” “Do you think she’s prettier than me?”

  No, Melany was different. Sure, she lacked self-confidence, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a backbone. She most certainly did. And she wasn’t afraid to let it show.