Page 34 of Forever Only Once

“You’re the one who brought it up. And we’re not exactly clear on all the rules,” Paris admitted.

“Oh, great. What’s going to happen is, I’m going to be the only one who has to do any of this, and you guys are just going to go off with your perfect little lives and never have to deal with the embarrassment of sitting down with a guy who isn’t your actual date.”

“No, we are all going to go on dates with random people that will probably turn out worse. After all, you met a wonderful man, at least as much as you know so far, and you’re going on a second date with him tonight. Enjoy yourself, and don’t worry. When the time is right, the next person will have their time.”

“You’re the next person, Paris.” I paused. “In fact, I’m going to talk with Dakota and Myra. We need to start working on you.”

“Let’s not rush things,” Paris said quickly, and I laughed.

“See? You don’t like it when the shoe is on the other foot.”

“I love all shoes, don’t worry. When my time comes, whenever that may be, I will give in.”

I laughed for real this time, a deep belly laugh that I knew Paris was likely grimacing at, even if I couldn’t see her face.

“Have fun tonight,” Paris said. “Seriously. Just remember that you’re allowed to have fun.”

“I’ll try,” I said, and then we hung up, and I looked down at my grading. I knew I wasn’t going to finish today.

No, I was going to get ready for my date and wonder exactly how this had happened.

I went to my bedroom and opened my closet, wondering how I had gotten ready the first time. I hadn’t had this nervousness wrapping around me like it was now. Perhaps because whatever would have happened with Stavros would have been mere fantasy.

A pact made between friends that didn’t seem quite real.

I had gone through the motions, not knowing exactly how I should feel. I’d put on a sexy but not too revealing dress, did my hair and makeup like I’d been taught—an armor and a weapon in the hands of masters, as my mother had once said—and had gone to a swanky bar in Boulder—the swankiest. I had gone, knowing full well that I would never see that man again. Because he hadn’t been real.

And because I’d never met him—still hadn’t—he wouldn’t ever be real to me. While I wished him the best of luck with his ex-wife and hoped his child had all the happiness in the world, he would never be real to me.

And for someone who went through dreams in life like I had, who craved concrete math and proof, reality was what I needed to breathe, to live, to survive.

Tonight wouldn’t be like before. It would be different.

I knew Cross—at least as much as I could know a man I had accidentally gone on a date with.

I had spoken to him, had touched him—in the most chaste of ways, of course—and I knew he was real.

As I chose my outfit with care, making precise decisions since it was the only way I would be able to focus tonight, I wondered yet again how I had ended up here.

When I found myself looking in the mirror, my eyes wide, my face pale with a touch of color on my cheeks, I knew I couldn’t back down now.

Even as I did my best to ignore the memory of hot breath on my neck from a dream that wasn’t merely a dream, I knew I had to take these next steps.

I didn’t want to be a person who hid in fear any longer.

The only problem was, I didn’t know what kind of person I wanted—needed—to be.

And the answer to that wasn’t something I could get from dreams or math or even dates with a man who made me smile.

That would come from somewhere far different.

From me.