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1 | Aleena: February

"Mrs. Cross, welcome back."

"Happy Valentine's Day," I say nervously, waiting as the young blonde behind the hostess stand checks her tablet for the reservation.

"I thought your last name was Bryer?" My date asks, his brows drawn down in confusion.

I nod, smiling at him. Tonight marks date number two with James, so I'm pleasantly surprised he remembers. Most men are usually too nervous or distracted during the first date to remember small details. But I should take it as a good sign he did.

"It is. My best friend knows the owner, so he offered to make the reservation for me."

James nods, still looking lost. "Right. But she called you Mrs. Cross?"

"Oh. That." I shake my head. "That's just a running joke we have."

"Miss. Cross? If you'll follow me, please." The hostess moves us to a small intimate table underneath a large crystal chandelier. She waits until we're seated before handing us our menus. "Your server's name this evening will be Dre. He should be right with you, but please let me know if there's anything further I can do for you."

"Thank you." I smile taking a moment to glance around the room. The cream-colored walls and white finishings perfectly blend with the gold décor. 

"This place is gorgeous. I never get used to it."

"It is."

When our server arrives he's carrying a bottle of champagne that was hand-selected as a gift from the owner. He pours us each a glass as we listen to the chefs' specials before he leaves to put in the order for our appetizer. I can feel the moment James's eyes land on me. 

"So, I'm curious. What's this joke between you two?"

"What?" I ask, even though I heard him perfectly well.

I'm not sure why I even mentioned the joke at all. I'm not even sure this little game he likes to play is technically even considered a joke, at all. It's just something he and the other two guys in our friend group started one day, declaring they didn't like my last name. For some random reason, none of them cared to share. Now I have to have the awkward conversation of trying to explain how there are no ulterior motives intended. Something that usually ends in an immediate game over for any date.

I take a sip of champagne, giving myself a few extra seconds before I have to respond and make a mental note to scold Nero for putting me in this position. Again. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he's purposefully trying to ruin my chances with James.

While he waits, I can't help but notice how handsome he looks. He's six-foot-two with brown hair and green eyes. We met at my uncle's fundraiser last month to raise awareness for children born with cancer. Something our family feels strongly about after we lost my mother to her battle with leukemia almost two years ago now. He's a pediatrician who works at the hospital where my uncle does his outpatient surgeries. Whereas, I'm a freshly graduated 21-year-old struggling in the early stages of trying to start my career as a fitness influencer.

When he asked me if he could have my number, I wasn't hopeful I would hear from him. Until a few days later when he called and asked me out for dinner. Then again earlier this week when he told me to pick anywhere I desired. And Casenor's has always been a favorite of mine, but it's extremely hard to get reservations for which is why I asked Nero to begin with.

James shrugs and sets his menu down. "I'm just going to ask so there's no way I can misinterpret what's happening between us. This friend. Is there a history there I should know about? I've enjoyed getting to know you and I like you a lot. But, I'll be honest, Aleena. I'm not interested in playing games."

"No. Never." I shake my head. Even the idea of there being more between me and any of the guys is ridiculous. For a whole laundry list of reasons. The most obvious one, and the one I hate to imagine, is the damage a messy breakup might mean to our friendship.

Nero, Oliver, and Ryat have been three constants in my life ever since we met in our Business and Professional Communications class. There're not many freshmen who enroll in a senior-level Speech class, and after a few weeks of this asshole hockey player being unable to take hearing the word "no," the guys stepped in. I'm not sure how, or why they chose to help me. But from that day on they quickly fell into the roles of the three grumpy statues I couldn't and didn't want, to shake.

I love them too much to ever risk losing them.

I spin the tiny Tiffany-blue heart on the diamond bracelet the guys bought me for my 20th birthday and wait for the moment James tells me he doesn't think we should see each other anymore. Most guys don't like or can't handle the idea of their potential girlfriend having one or two guys as friends. I have three.

"I wouldn't be here if there was."

I hold James's gaze for a minute, waiting for the inevitable letdown that doesn't come. Instead, he nods, seeming pleased with my answer and choosing to believe me. "All right."

I have to bite back my initial shock at how quickly he dismisses any doubt. Until I remember James is nothing like the men I've dated in the past. He's older and established in his career. Most guys I date are still in college, like me. Still figuring out where they want to be in five years.

He returns to his menu and points to the middle section where the main dishes are. "I hear the Croq Au Vin with Rosemary and Thyme is good. Do you like chicken?"

I smile and feel my cheeks heat when he fixes his gaze back on me. "I love chicken."

"Perfect."

The rest of the meal is spent laughing and swapping stories. He tells me what he likes most about his job, then asks what my first steps look like now that I've graduated. The chef comes out when we finish our meal, and I swoon when James thanks him for the amazing dinner. He takes my hand and continues to hold it the entire drive back to the house my friend Savannah and I lease together. The closer we get to the door, the more I hold my breath wondering if tonight's the night he's going to kiss me. 

That is until we get there and the mood comes to an abrupt halt as we spot the tragedy that is the upside-down red heart balloon taped just below the old-fashioned door knocker. A lacy black thong with pink trimmings placed to look like a girl's backside, with the note: Happy Valentine's Day, gorgeous! Lookin' forward to seein' your sexy ass. xoxo, Your Valentine(x3), written in permanent marker.

"Just friends, huh?"

"Mm," I mumble.

Three soon-to-be-very-dead friends because I'm going to strangle them. If they're lucky I'll do it with the same thong James hasn't been able to look away from. Guess it would be wishful thinking to hope he's picturing me wearing it.

Goddamnit. So close.