Not That Into You

Chapter 1

Monica

Sipping my drink, I watch Hayley spin in a circle in the middle of the bar, her long blonde hair fanning out around her. She laughs as she begins to lose her balance while I hold my breath, waiting for her to topple over or crash into someone.

I have to admire her energy. It’s not yet midnight, and I’m more than ready to call it a night. I have an early meeting tomorrow morning, and I’m already anticipating the extra shot of espresso I’ll be adding to my standard coffee order.

“She doesn’t look as if she’ll be slowing down anytime soon.”

The corner of my mouth lifts as I glance over at Anna, who’s been nursing the same drink for the past hour. By now, it’s just melted ice.

Gina, who’s standing on the other side of me, sighs. “At least Alli cut her off.”

Alli is the bartender and part owner of Blue Iris, the New York City bar our group of friends has been frequenting for years. And if Alli’s scowl is any indication, this will be the last time she allows Hayley to host her birthday party here.

“Has Claire come back yet?” Anna asks.

I frown. “She texted to say she wasn’t coming back.”

I love Claire—she’s my best friend—but I don’t love that she left Hayley’s party with her ex. Maybe they just talked and went their separate ways, but Claire’s been acting out of character lately, so I’m not holding my breath.

Anna places her empty glass on the bar. “I’ve got to get up early tomorrow, so I’m heading out.”

Gina sighs. “Yeah, me too.”

Anna looks at me. “You’ve got the birthday girl?”

I nod. “Yup.” Hayley’s my roommate, so I won’t leave until she does, especially since I doubt she’ll be able to get home without assistance at this point.

They each give me a quick hug before wading through Hayley’s admirers to tell her goodbye. I smile as Hayley grabs hold of them both in a tight, three-person hug and starts swaying.

“Why am I not surprised you’re across the room from where the fun is?” a deep voice says.

My nostrils flare as I slowly turn and lift an eyebrow at the smirking face of the person standing behind me.

Cameron Stanhope is an example of how the universe doesn’t concern itself with fairness. He comes from money and cruises through life as a billionaire playboy. But if his outside matched his inside, he’d be a gargoyle, a humpbacked ogre with bulging eyes and drooping flesh.

Instead, he’s irritatingly handsome with dirty blond hair, whiskey eyes, and a chiseled jaw. Made worse because he knows how good-looking he is and revels in it. He’s a self-centered peacock with perfectly coiffed hair.

And, unfortunately, he’s Hayley’s oldest friend.

So, like a hangover after a bender, he’s hard to avoid.

I cross my arms while still clutching my drink. “Why am I not surprised you enjoy creeping up on women?”

He studies my black, stone-washed skinny jeans and black T-shirt. “You knew this was a birthday party, not a funeral, right?”

Narrowing my eyes, I tilt my head. “How’d the boyband tryouts go?”

He smiles broadly, deploying his dimples. “They found me charming and handsome, so I’m expecting a callback.” He raises his brows. “I heard Buddy Holly called and asked for his glasses back.”

I grit my teeth, ignoring the urge to adjust my black-rimmed glasses. “Nah, he was just interested in reviving geek chic.” I grin. “I told him you’d be interested.”

“Oh, that’s who called. I didn’t recognize the number. Just figured it was one of my many admirers.”

“I imagine it’s hard to keep track of them, considering how many times they must call for hair styling advice.”

“A dab of matte paste while damp, blow-dry with a round brush, and then pomade for definition and shine.” His eyes go wide with feigned interest. “Are you looking for a change?” He eyes my long, dark hair that’s pulled back in a ponytail. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair down.”

I give him a tight smile. “Some of us have better things to do than stand in front of a mirror all day.”

“So true. Which is why I always have my cell phone at the ready.” He holds up his phone, turns on the camera, and winks at his image.

I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“No more ridiculous than you glowering in a corner.”

“I’m not glowering in a corner.”

“If you say so.”

“At least I’m not lifting people up on my shoulders in the middle of a bar.” Seriously. Only a short while ago, he’d hoisted Hayley up on his shoulders, where she’d swayed dangerously while holding a candle.

“It’s called having fun, Monica. You should try it sometime.”

“It’s irresponsible, Cameron. Hayley could’ve gotten hurt.”

“And yet,” he says, spreading his arms, “no harm was done, and everyone had fun.”

“And that right there is your problem,” I say while pointing a finger at his chest. “All you care about is fun.”

He rolls his eyes. “You need to lighten up.”

“And you need to grow up and take things more seriously.”

He snorts. “Sounds boring. Why would I do that?”

“Because life isn’t a joke.”

He narrows his eyes. “All right, Monica, you want me to be serious? Fine.” He leans in, so we’re nose to nose. “You don’t know me. You have no idea who I am. But for some reason, you’ve decided I’m the villain of your little one-act play. And it’s getting tedious. This whole I’m-moody-and-artsy-and-so-much-deeper-than-everyone routine might have passed for a personality in college, but now, it’s just tired and embarrassing. You don’t like me? Fine. But don’t pretend it’s because you’re somehow better than me. You’re not happy? You don’t feel you fit in? That’s your own fault. Don’t put that on me, and you damn well better not put any of that on Hayley.”

My heart pounds as my ears ring, but I refuse to let him see how much his words sting. “You’re an asshole.”

“Probably. But at least I’m not a dried-up, bitter bitch.”

I inhale sharply and, before I can think better of it, toss my drink in his face.