had crumbled to dust. All in all it wasn’t turning out to be my best week.
Feeling gloomy, I looked away and saw a couple laughing together, lost in each other. The man was handsome, the woman beautiful. His hand sneaked across the table and covered hers, as if he couldn’t bear to not be touching her. Her eyes smiled into his. Their wine was untouched. So was their food. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice anything around them, especially not the girl being dumped at the next table. I wanted to step out of my world and join them in their shiny happy place.
Even as I watched, they stood up simultaneously, gazes still locked. I should have looked away, but I couldn’t. There was something mesmerizing about the intensity of their chemistry. I stared, fascinated, envious, as the guy threw a bundle of notes on the table without counting them. So cool. I’ve only ever seen that happen in the movies. If I’d done the same thing I would have showered the table with receipts, expired discount vouchers, chocolate wrappers and a ton of other crap that somehow finds its way into my purse. He strode purposefully to the door, his hand locked in hers. I knew, I just knew, that they weren’t going to make it to the car without ripping at each other’s clothes. I’d never seen two people so into each other. Or maybe I had. Ever since my sister, Hayley, had got it together with Nico Rossi, the two of them had been like that. I was scared to open the door to our apartment in case I tripped over the pair of them in the hallway. I joked that it made me mildly nauseous, but honestly, I was happy for my sister. Neither of us found relationships easy. I was glad one of us had managed to find someone.
‘Rosie? Are you even listening to me?’
I turned back to Brian, telling myself I wasn’t jealous. Chemistry that intense was a bad thing. It could scorch a person. I knew. I was much better off sticking with this bland version of a relationship, even if it did fizzle out like a firework on a wet night. Better that than being burned.
‘I’m listening. I was waiting for you to finish your sentence. You were telling me we’re not compatible.’ It was like one of those stupid reality shows where they’re about to tell you who this week’s loser is, who is going home, only instead of just doing it, they make you wait and wait against the backdrop of a drama drum roll until the whole nation is yelling, ‘For fuck’s sake get on with it,’ at the TV. To kill time, I glanced round the room. Sleek black tables shimmered with silver and candles. We were surrounded by the low hum of conversation and the clink of glass. A roomful of people enjoying an evening. People who were in relationships.
And then there was me.
Rosie the rejected.
I could hold water in my hands longer than I could hold a man. Not that I wanted a long relationship but hanging on to him until the end of dinner would have been confidence building.
‘Look at you....’ Brian waved a hand and I looked down at myself in alarm, wondering if I’d had a wardrobe malfunction. We’re big on those in my family—just ask my sister, Hayley. But as far as I could see, it was situation normal. Same legs. Same flat chest. When my sister and I were dividing up the family DNA, she got the big-breast gene. Who am I kidding? She got the whole breast gene. All of it. I’ve always liked to put a positive spin on things, so I told myself a flat chest gave me a better view of my impressive abs. I’d worked hard enough to get them.
‘I’m looking. I don’t see a problem.’
‘There isn’t a problem! You’re really pretty. Great bone structure, cute face, gorgeous smile and your legs are—’ He cleared his throat. ‘You’ve got great legs. Great body. It’s not the way you look! On the outside you look feminine and fragile, but on the inside you’re not....’
‘I’m not what? Brian, for the love of all that is holy, please finish your sentences.’
‘I did.’
‘You said “inside you’re not.” What am I not?’
‘You’re not at all fragile.’ His face was scarlet and the colour didn’t suit him. ‘There isn’t even a hint of vulnerability about you.’
‘You want me to be vulnerable?’ I thought about the mess that lay in my past. I thought about my childhood, when I’d spent half my time feeling vulnerable. Looking back on how I’d been then made me cringe. And he was telling me he wanted me that way?
He finished his food and put down his fork. ‘You’re tough, Rosie.’
That didn’t sound so bad to me. ‘So is a diamond. And it sparkles.’
‘I was thinking more of Kevlar.’ He sighed. ‘You have to admit your interests are...unusual.’
‘What’s wrong with my interests?’
‘Oh, come on!’ His expression said it should have been obvious. ‘You’re a girl and you like fighting. How do you think that makes me feel?’ He glanced quickly to the left to check no one was listening, as if simply being seen with someone like me might be enough to knock lumps off his manhood.
I put my fork down, too. Not because I’d finished eating—being dumped wrecks my appetite—but so I wouldn’t be tempted to stab him. ‘Martial arts, Brian. You make it sound as if I’m pounding on people in the street.’
‘What you do is violent! You kick people. You could kick me.’
I had to rein myself in.
I told myself it wasn’t an invitation.
All the same I was tempted.
My shoes had a particularly sharp heel. They deserved a workout before they went back in the box.
A couple had arrived at the recently vacated table. I decided they didn’t deserve to have their evening ruined. I glanced idly in their direction. She was pretty. Blond hair. Elegant. The man had his back to me but I could see his hair was black as night and his shoulders broad and strong. There was a stillness about him, an economy of movement that told me he could handle himself. I spent my day training with men strong enough to lift a small car with one hand, so there was no reason to give him even a second look but there was something about those shoulders, the way he held himself, that caught my attention. Something familiar.
My heart bumped my ribs and I felt a moment of sick panic and then I noticed half the women in the room were also looking at him.
I forced myself to breathe. He was a smoking-hot guy, that was all. Even from the back, he looked insanely good. Who wouldn’t look?
It wasn’t anyone I knew. Just some random stranger who had happened to pick the same restaurant as us.
‘Rosie?’ Brian sounded irritated that he’d lost my attention and I tried to forget about Muscle Man seated to my right. I didn’t need a hot guy in my life. I had enough trouble with the lukewarm variety.
‘Relax. I don’t want to hurt you, Brian.’ I was lying. Right at that moment I wanted to. Wondering what I’d ever seen in him, I sat back in my chair and tried to visualize fluffy kittens and other gentle soothing images to calm myself. ‘We’re supposed to be dating. Why would I want to hurt you?’
‘I’m not saying that you do. Just that you could. And that feels a little weird, if I’m honest. A man likes to feel like a man, you know? And that thing you do...’
‘That thing? Are you talking about Muay Thai
