The Heartbreak List
Chapter One
Indy
"I can't believe you're getting married in three months,” my cousin America screams over the loud music playing in the club where we’re celebrating my bachelorette night. “I hate that I’m not going to be here to help you organize everything.”
I smile with the straw of my drink between my lips as I sip some incredibly alcoholic cocktail. We graduated college a week ago and all the pieces are falling into place. I landed my dream job and set a date with Gray for our wedding. America is heading to Cambridge. “You have a chance to study under the top linguistics professor in the UK. You have to go. Besides you organized this party. And you’ll be back the week of the wedding.”
“Of course I will.” She grabs my hand and bounces up and down in her pink heels. “I’m your best friend and maid of honor. You literally can’t get married without me.”
“Isn’t it the groom I can’t get married without?” I lift my hand to stare at the ring on my finger. It’s a diamond cut solitaire on a plain gold band. Understated. Sensible. And exactly what I told Gray I wanted when we first started planning our future.
“As if Gray is going anywhere.” America touches the gold hoop in her earlobe and turns her dark gaze to our friends on the dance floor. They’re easy to spot since they are all wearing pink. She tucks her arm into mine. “Your perfect fiancé will become your perfect husband and you’ll both go on to live your perfect life and have perfect little babies.”
“That’s the plan.” Has been for as long as I can remember. Although my perfect husband-to-be wasn’t always Grayson Ford.
It used to be Zac Efron. Actually, I still crush on Zac Efron. He’s the kind of infatuation that gets better with age. But Gray has been my number one since I was fifteen-and-a-half, even though my brother’s best friend didn’t know about my crush on him until I was seventeen, and then waited until after my eighteenth birthday to ask me out on our first date.
“We should join the others.” America starts to tug me in the direction of the dance floor where our friends are waving us over. “Let loose. You only celebrate being a bride once.”
“I kind of need to pee.” I put down my empty glass on the first table we pass then drag my arm free. And the headache that I’ve been trying to shake all day is kicking it up a notch. I could do with a breather. “I’ll be back in a few.”
“If you’re not, I’ll come looking for you.” She continues toward the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd until all I can see is the back of her bouncing mop of corkscrew curls.
I veer off from the main crowd and into the hallway where the bathrooms are. I massage my temples to ease the throbbing as I locate the right door.
It opens before I can put a hand on it and two girls come racing out in a fit of giggles.
“You might want to wait.” One of them tells me over her shoulder before they round the corner.
I jiggle because the alcohol has gone straight through me, and I really need to pee. Maybe someone left the bathroom a mess and they’re waiting for one of the people who works here to clean it up. It wouldn’t be the first time some girl quietly puked in a club stall after one too many.
Oh well, I really can’t wait. I’m just going to have to hold my breath while I’m in there. Inhaling all the way to my toes, I push the door open an inch to check out what I’m dealing with.
The door moves much further than the inch I planned, and I’m left with my arm out and my hand angled with my fingers up and almost touching the man that fills the empty space. He’s taller than I am. Broad across the shoulders, then tapering down into cheese grater abs that are… on full display. There are several bruises scattered on his torso. They range from fresh red to dark purple to faded yellow.
A leather jacket wears him well. It drapes like it was made to be worn by a rockstar but ended up on a god. One of war thanks to the bruises. Or mischief by the way his lips curl up. But his smirk has nothing on those eyes.
His eyes are… unique. I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like his. Except, perhaps on television. And even then… it would have nothing on the way this guy’s eyes draw me in. One blue like the sky, the other a Ying Yang of chocolate and sapphire.
They’re friendly. A little too friendly as his gaze falls over my all-white outfit and pink sash in a way that reminds me of one of those perfume commercials where luxurious silk glides over the woman’s skin.
He has dark brown hair that falls in waves that almost meet his shoulders. I’m not really into long hair on men, but the strands are so glossy and look so soft that I almost want to touch it to see if it is that silky. Still, I stumble back to those eyes. Those orbs that must hook many women. Are they natural or--
“You should probably consider breathing at some point.” He smiles wider.
His words infiltrate my head, which is fuzzy, from the alcohol and holding my breath for so long. I let out the oxygen I’d been containing, which is more like ninety-eight percent carbon dioxide at this point, and grow light headed.
I breathe in the pungent scent of musk and sweat.
A woman appears behind him. Her make up is on point, but she fluffs her red hair like she wants it to look messy on purpose, so she’s probably hiding how it got mussed in the first place. And her tiny black dress is still askew. She pushes it down her hips and thighs until it sits right.
They were having sex in the bathroom. That’s what those girls were talking about on their way past. Am I surprised? Hardly. Am I curious about what it would be like to be that spontaneous? Again, no. Gray and I aren’t PDA type people. At least not to that degree.
“Wanna come dance?” The girl touches his broad shoulder.
His gaze is still glued to me. “No.”
“Seriously?” She opens her purse and takes out a piece of gum that she pops in her mouth. “I thought you said we’d dance.”
“That was before my girlfriend showed up.” He doesn’t miss a beat as he reaches out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Sorry, I kept you waiting, honey boo.”
I roll my gaze at the awful pet name. Does he really think this will work considering my lack of care that he was screwing some random? Surely the girl isn’t dumb enough to believe we’re dating, or even that we’ve met before.
“Oh my God.” She shoves him to the side so she can get by and looks down her nose at me. “You’re welcome to him. A big dick isn’t everything. Especially when he doesn’t know how to use it.”
He grins at me, all white teeth, as she totters away on tall black stilettos. “I have a big dick, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.” I can barely supress a laugh as the girl spins around and gives him two middle fingers before disappearing out of sight.
“I’m actually very skilled with it.” He leans toward me like we’re friends now. In cahoots.
“I’m not interested in your dick. Imagined or real.” I put my hand up to block his face when he gets too close. I’m not creeped out by him. He seems harmless enough. Truly a friendly drunk, even if he is technically loitering in the women’s bathroom. The need to pee has kicked back in and I’m desperate at this point. “Your fly is undone.”
“Oh, will you look at that?” He glances down at the zip that still needs to be zipped. Adjusting his junk, he pulls the zipper up and latches the button. “I must have been distracted. Don’t know what could possibly have stolen my attention. But she must have been real pretty.”
“Are you trying to flirt with me?” He’s no Zac Efron. And while he probably doesn’t need to be since he’s balls-to-the-wall gorgeous, and genetics kicked it up a notch with those eyes, he’s no Gray either. He’s just some fuckboy with a few too many drinks under his belt and a more than healthy dose of ego that happens to be making me laugh, and I have better waiting for me. A man who is fully committed to our shared future.
“Yeah. Is it working?”
Not even a little. “I have a fiancé.”
He grins wider. “Of course you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I finally just go for it and squeeze between him and the door. It’s either that or let pee trickle down my leg.
“You look like a bride.” He shakes his head as I choose a cubicle. “This is your bachelorette party?”
Slipping inside, I lock it and shimmy my panties down my legs before I sit. The relief is instant. “Yeah.”
“When are you getting married?”
“A few months. My best friend is moving to the UK so we decided to throw the bachelorette party sooner rather than later.” Are we really still having a conversation while I’m peeing?
“No strippers?”
“Unless I count you. With your lack of shirt.” I smile sweet as pie even though he can’t see me while I fix up my panties and flush.
He laughs. “Not a stripper. Though some nights I cut it mighty close. You should come watch, when you’re not being a well-behaved bride-to-be. Bring your fiancé. Not here. I work at this club, it’s called Line ‘Em Up. Come on a Friday.”
“I don’t think so.” I move to the sink to wash my hands. There’s an empty bottle of Jameson on the counter and a couple of small plastic bags with a lime green devil logo on it. Perhaps it’s not only alcohol that has him so chatty. “It’s not really our scene.”
“You’re right. Don’t bring him.” He stretches his arm out to block my path out of the bathroom. “He’ll lose his mind when I dance with you. Then I’ll have to stop him from hitting me while you burst into tears. After which you’ll break up with him, because you’re so attracted to me, and then I’ll be forced to let you down hard because I’m not that guy. It’ll be way too messy.”
“Confident much?” I tip my head back and get lost. It’s not his piercing gaze that makes my skin tingle. It’s not attraction that has my breath catching. And it’s not his scent either. Perhaps it’s this headache that is growing louder. “You don’t truly believe that I would actually show up, do you?”
He licks his lips. “Come on. Live a little.”
“I live.” I give him my best glare. He doesn’t need to know that this is the first time I’ve been out dancing or to see a band or to have a drink in three years. I was too busy concentrating on my studies and my career. Getting engaged. Following the plan.
“Hmm.” He makes an amused sound in his throat. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” I jut out my chin to push my point.
“And yet you have been talking to me for the past five minutes. Even though you can’t decide whether you like me or you’re just intrigued. And it’s not because you don’t have better things to do or friends waiting on you.”
“That’s not.” But I’m still standing here, talking to him. Why? What am I getting out of this? A thrill? “We’re just talking.”
“Is that what you call it? Do you talk to strangers in public toilets often, hmm?” He reaches out and touches my chin before dropping his hand back to his side. “If you ask me, you look bored.”
“I didn’t ask you.” I’m filled with a sudden need to find out what Gray would do if my panties were in my handbag when he picked me up at the end of the night. Because I’m not bored or boring. And talking to this guy certainly isn’t the highlight of my night.
“I’d be happy to rescue you.” He shrugs. “Wanna get out of here. I know a great place to get pancakes.”
Is he for real? Even if I wasn’t getting married… “It’s two in the morning.”
“It’s never too early for pancakes.” He squints, his eyes lit with a twinkle. The kind that would get a girl into trouble if she were into that kind of thing.
“There you are.” America grabs my arm and drags me away from the eyes. “I thought you’d gotten sick. You were taking forever.”
“Sorry.” I touch my engagement ring and it is as solid as ever. Gray is waiting to pick me up from our night out. And some guy who strips and spouts motivational quotes like live a little is nothing but a cliff note. “I got stuck, talking.”
America glances over her shoulder at the guy before raising both eyebrows. “Hmm. I can see why. Those eyes.”
“And doesn’t he know it?” I chuckle.
“I bet.” She giggles as we bump against each other.
“Don’t forget,” he calls over his shoulder as he finally leaves.
“Don’t forget what?” America hustles into the bathroom and starts checking her hair and lipstick in the mirror over the sink even though it’s past midnight. And somehow she’s still perfect, like a gorgeous Zendaya impersonator.
I glance after him, but he’s gone by this point. I rub at my throbbing temples and my vision swims. “He thinks I don’t know how to have a good time.”
“Because you knocked his advances?” She wrinkles her nose, but then she turns her back to the counter and grins at me. “Or because you told him about how you’ve had every single part of your life planned out since you were fifteen? Bullet points and all.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“I’m insulted.” She presses a hand to her chest but her gaze swims with amusement. “I’m your best jerk, thank you very much.”
“I wish you weren’t leaving me.” I throw my arms around her.
She throws hers around me too. “It’s only for a year.”
“A year is too long when I’ve been used to you living right next door since we were born.”
“You don’t even live at your parents anymore. You’re all the way across town.” She laughs as we leave the bathroom. “I’ll be back as much as I can. And we’ll talk to each other every day.”
“But it isn’t the same. Who am I going to hang out with?”
“You could always hang out with that guy.” She tips her head in the direction of the bathroom. “I bet Gray would love that.”
“Yeah, he’d be thrilled.” I laugh. Still I’m antsy. And it isn’t entirely because my bestie called me out for being so goal orientated. Or that some guy thinks he worked out who I am from a few minutes of dialogue. “I’ll be right back.”
“What are you doing?” America calls after me.
Slipping back into the bathroom, I hold the door closed with my hand while I reach under my dress and tug down my panties. Taking them off, I deposit them in my handbag and then text my fiancé to come and get me.
I can’t wait to see how Gray reacts.
I smile with the straw of my drink between my lips as I sip some incredibly alcoholic cocktail. We graduated college a week ago and all the pieces are falling into place. I landed my dream job and set a date with Gray for our wedding. America is heading to Cambridge. “You have a chance to study under the top linguistics professor in the UK. You have to go. Besides you organized this party. And you’ll be back the week of the wedding.”
“Of course I will.” She grabs my hand and bounces up and down in her pink heels. “I’m your best friend and maid of honor. You literally can’t get married without me.”
“Isn’t it the groom I can’t get married without?” I lift my hand to stare at the ring on my finger. It’s a diamond cut solitaire on a plain gold band. Understated. Sensible. And exactly what I told Gray I wanted when we first started planning our future.
“As if Gray is going anywhere.” America touches the gold hoop in her earlobe and turns her dark gaze to our friends on the dance floor. They’re easy to spot since they are all wearing pink. She tucks her arm into mine. “Your perfect fiancé will become your perfect husband and you’ll both go on to live your perfect life and have perfect little babies.”
“That’s the plan.” Has been for as long as I can remember. Although my perfect husband-to-be wasn’t always Grayson Ford.
It used to be Zac Efron. Actually, I still crush on Zac Efron. He’s the kind of infatuation that gets better with age. But Gray has been my number one since I was fifteen-and-a-half, even though my brother’s best friend didn’t know about my crush on him until I was seventeen, and then waited until after my eighteenth birthday to ask me out on our first date.
“We should join the others.” America starts to tug me in the direction of the dance floor where our friends are waving us over. “Let loose. You only celebrate being a bride once.”
“I kind of need to pee.” I put down my empty glass on the first table we pass then drag my arm free. And the headache that I’ve been trying to shake all day is kicking it up a notch. I could do with a breather. “I’ll be back in a few.”
“If you’re not, I’ll come looking for you.” She continues toward the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd until all I can see is the back of her bouncing mop of corkscrew curls.
I veer off from the main crowd and into the hallway where the bathrooms are. I massage my temples to ease the throbbing as I locate the right door.
It opens before I can put a hand on it and two girls come racing out in a fit of giggles.
“You might want to wait.” One of them tells me over her shoulder before they round the corner.
I jiggle because the alcohol has gone straight through me, and I really need to pee. Maybe someone left the bathroom a mess and they’re waiting for one of the people who works here to clean it up. It wouldn’t be the first time some girl quietly puked in a club stall after one too many.
Oh well, I really can’t wait. I’m just going to have to hold my breath while I’m in there. Inhaling all the way to my toes, I push the door open an inch to check out what I’m dealing with.
The door moves much further than the inch I planned, and I’m left with my arm out and my hand angled with my fingers up and almost touching the man that fills the empty space. He’s taller than I am. Broad across the shoulders, then tapering down into cheese grater abs that are… on full display. There are several bruises scattered on his torso. They range from fresh red to dark purple to faded yellow.
A leather jacket wears him well. It drapes like it was made to be worn by a rockstar but ended up on a god. One of war thanks to the bruises. Or mischief by the way his lips curl up. But his smirk has nothing on those eyes.
His eyes are… unique. I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like his. Except, perhaps on television. And even then… it would have nothing on the way this guy’s eyes draw me in. One blue like the sky, the other a Ying Yang of chocolate and sapphire.
They’re friendly. A little too friendly as his gaze falls over my all-white outfit and pink sash in a way that reminds me of one of those perfume commercials where luxurious silk glides over the woman’s skin.
He has dark brown hair that falls in waves that almost meet his shoulders. I’m not really into long hair on men, but the strands are so glossy and look so soft that I almost want to touch it to see if it is that silky. Still, I stumble back to those eyes. Those orbs that must hook many women. Are they natural or--
“You should probably consider breathing at some point.” He smiles wider.
His words infiltrate my head, which is fuzzy, from the alcohol and holding my breath for so long. I let out the oxygen I’d been containing, which is more like ninety-eight percent carbon dioxide at this point, and grow light headed.
I breathe in the pungent scent of musk and sweat.
A woman appears behind him. Her make up is on point, but she fluffs her red hair like she wants it to look messy on purpose, so she’s probably hiding how it got mussed in the first place. And her tiny black dress is still askew. She pushes it down her hips and thighs until it sits right.
They were having sex in the bathroom. That’s what those girls were talking about on their way past. Am I surprised? Hardly. Am I curious about what it would be like to be that spontaneous? Again, no. Gray and I aren’t PDA type people. At least not to that degree.
“Wanna come dance?” The girl touches his broad shoulder.
His gaze is still glued to me. “No.”
“Seriously?” She opens her purse and takes out a piece of gum that she pops in her mouth. “I thought you said we’d dance.”
“That was before my girlfriend showed up.” He doesn’t miss a beat as he reaches out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Sorry, I kept you waiting, honey boo.”
I roll my gaze at the awful pet name. Does he really think this will work considering my lack of care that he was screwing some random? Surely the girl isn’t dumb enough to believe we’re dating, or even that we’ve met before.
“Oh my God.” She shoves him to the side so she can get by and looks down her nose at me. “You’re welcome to him. A big dick isn’t everything. Especially when he doesn’t know how to use it.”
He grins at me, all white teeth, as she totters away on tall black stilettos. “I have a big dick, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.” I can barely supress a laugh as the girl spins around and gives him two middle fingers before disappearing out of sight.
“I’m actually very skilled with it.” He leans toward me like we’re friends now. In cahoots.
“I’m not interested in your dick. Imagined or real.” I put my hand up to block his face when he gets too close. I’m not creeped out by him. He seems harmless enough. Truly a friendly drunk, even if he is technically loitering in the women’s bathroom. The need to pee has kicked back in and I’m desperate at this point. “Your fly is undone.”
“Oh, will you look at that?” He glances down at the zip that still needs to be zipped. Adjusting his junk, he pulls the zipper up and latches the button. “I must have been distracted. Don’t know what could possibly have stolen my attention. But she must have been real pretty.”
“Are you trying to flirt with me?” He’s no Zac Efron. And while he probably doesn’t need to be since he’s balls-to-the-wall gorgeous, and genetics kicked it up a notch with those eyes, he’s no Gray either. He’s just some fuckboy with a few too many drinks under his belt and a more than healthy dose of ego that happens to be making me laugh, and I have better waiting for me. A man who is fully committed to our shared future.
“Yeah. Is it working?”
Not even a little. “I have a fiancé.”
He grins wider. “Of course you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I finally just go for it and squeeze between him and the door. It’s either that or let pee trickle down my leg.
“You look like a bride.” He shakes his head as I choose a cubicle. “This is your bachelorette party?”
Slipping inside, I lock it and shimmy my panties down my legs before I sit. The relief is instant. “Yeah.”
“When are you getting married?”
“A few months. My best friend is moving to the UK so we decided to throw the bachelorette party sooner rather than later.” Are we really still having a conversation while I’m peeing?
“No strippers?”
“Unless I count you. With your lack of shirt.” I smile sweet as pie even though he can’t see me while I fix up my panties and flush.
He laughs. “Not a stripper. Though some nights I cut it mighty close. You should come watch, when you’re not being a well-behaved bride-to-be. Bring your fiancé. Not here. I work at this club, it’s called Line ‘Em Up. Come on a Friday.”
“I don’t think so.” I move to the sink to wash my hands. There’s an empty bottle of Jameson on the counter and a couple of small plastic bags with a lime green devil logo on it. Perhaps it’s not only alcohol that has him so chatty. “It’s not really our scene.”
“You’re right. Don’t bring him.” He stretches his arm out to block my path out of the bathroom. “He’ll lose his mind when I dance with you. Then I’ll have to stop him from hitting me while you burst into tears. After which you’ll break up with him, because you’re so attracted to me, and then I’ll be forced to let you down hard because I’m not that guy. It’ll be way too messy.”
“Confident much?” I tip my head back and get lost. It’s not his piercing gaze that makes my skin tingle. It’s not attraction that has my breath catching. And it’s not his scent either. Perhaps it’s this headache that is growing louder. “You don’t truly believe that I would actually show up, do you?”
He licks his lips. “Come on. Live a little.”
“I live.” I give him my best glare. He doesn’t need to know that this is the first time I’ve been out dancing or to see a band or to have a drink in three years. I was too busy concentrating on my studies and my career. Getting engaged. Following the plan.
“Hmm.” He makes an amused sound in his throat. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” I jut out my chin to push my point.
“And yet you have been talking to me for the past five minutes. Even though you can’t decide whether you like me or you’re just intrigued. And it’s not because you don’t have better things to do or friends waiting on you.”
“That’s not.” But I’m still standing here, talking to him. Why? What am I getting out of this? A thrill? “We’re just talking.”
“Is that what you call it? Do you talk to strangers in public toilets often, hmm?” He reaches out and touches my chin before dropping his hand back to his side. “If you ask me, you look bored.”
“I didn’t ask you.” I’m filled with a sudden need to find out what Gray would do if my panties were in my handbag when he picked me up at the end of the night. Because I’m not bored or boring. And talking to this guy certainly isn’t the highlight of my night.
“I’d be happy to rescue you.” He shrugs. “Wanna get out of here. I know a great place to get pancakes.”
Is he for real? Even if I wasn’t getting married… “It’s two in the morning.”
“It’s never too early for pancakes.” He squints, his eyes lit with a twinkle. The kind that would get a girl into trouble if she were into that kind of thing.
“There you are.” America grabs my arm and drags me away from the eyes. “I thought you’d gotten sick. You were taking forever.”
“Sorry.” I touch my engagement ring and it is as solid as ever. Gray is waiting to pick me up from our night out. And some guy who strips and spouts motivational quotes like live a little is nothing but a cliff note. “I got stuck, talking.”
America glances over her shoulder at the guy before raising both eyebrows. “Hmm. I can see why. Those eyes.”
“And doesn’t he know it?” I chuckle.
“I bet.” She giggles as we bump against each other.
“Don’t forget,” he calls over his shoulder as he finally leaves.
“Don’t forget what?” America hustles into the bathroom and starts checking her hair and lipstick in the mirror over the sink even though it’s past midnight. And somehow she’s still perfect, like a gorgeous Zendaya impersonator.
I glance after him, but he’s gone by this point. I rub at my throbbing temples and my vision swims. “He thinks I don’t know how to have a good time.”
“Because you knocked his advances?” She wrinkles her nose, but then she turns her back to the counter and grins at me. “Or because you told him about how you’ve had every single part of your life planned out since you were fifteen? Bullet points and all.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“I’m insulted.” She presses a hand to her chest but her gaze swims with amusement. “I’m your best jerk, thank you very much.”
“I wish you weren’t leaving me.” I throw my arms around her.
She throws hers around me too. “It’s only for a year.”
“A year is too long when I’ve been used to you living right next door since we were born.”
“You don’t even live at your parents anymore. You’re all the way across town.” She laughs as we leave the bathroom. “I’ll be back as much as I can. And we’ll talk to each other every day.”
“But it isn’t the same. Who am I going to hang out with?”
“You could always hang out with that guy.” She tips her head in the direction of the bathroom. “I bet Gray would love that.”
“Yeah, he’d be thrilled.” I laugh. Still I’m antsy. And it isn’t entirely because my bestie called me out for being so goal orientated. Or that some guy thinks he worked out who I am from a few minutes of dialogue. “I’ll be right back.”
“What are you doing?” America calls after me.
Slipping back into the bathroom, I hold the door closed with my hand while I reach under my dress and tug down my panties. Taking them off, I deposit them in my handbag and then text my fiancé to come and get me.
I can’t wait to see how Gray reacts.