Picking Up the Pieces (Pieces, #2)(73)

Getting drunk was out. Been there, done that, and it didn’t fix anything. Well, at least not in the long term. A mindless f*ck could relieve some tension, but past history had taught me that it would ultimately only make me miss Lily more. What would make me not miss Lily?

I paced my living room like a caged tiger, ready to pounce on any viable option that popped into my head. Finally, a thought so foreign to me—so out of my comfort zone that I nearly pushed the idea away due to the anxiety it filled me with—stopped me dead in my tracks. I shook my head as I ran a hand roughly through my hair. Maybe it’ll be good for me.

“I guess anything’s worth a shot at this point,” I muttered under my breath. I snatched my phone from the coffee table and began scrolling through my contacts. I finally found the name I’d been searching for and called before I could think anymore about it. She picked up before the second ring.

“Hello?” the surprised voice asked.

“Hey, uh, Alison, it’s Max Samson. I was, ahem, I was wondering,” I took a deep breath, willing myself to stop sounding so pathetic, “would you like to go out with me tonight?”

***

As I sat at Lorenzo’s Restaurant, I quickly began losing my nerve. Maybe I needed baby steps toward getting over Lily, like settling for a handjob in a bathroom as opposed to actually f*cking somebody. A date suddenly seemed like a gargantuan leap for me to be making. I tried to calm down by reminding myself that Alison was a serious piece of ass. I met her at a photo shoot I had done a few months back. Jack had insisted I get some headshots to take with me for my interview and she’d been the makeup artist who had worked the shoot, though she definitely belonged in front of the camera. She was stunning with her jet black hair, fair skin, lean body, and tall stature. I had readjusted myself at least ten times as she leaned over me to apply my makeup, thrusting her perfectly round tits in my face.

She had given me her number in case I ever needed someone for another shoot, but she had also flirted with me incessantly. Not in a tacky, hey-I’m-super-easy kind of way, but in a coy, I’m-interested-in-more-than-one-night kind of way. So when I had decided to take this drastic course of action, she had been the obvious choice.

But as I sat there waiting for her, I felt like this whole thing only served to further demonstrate that I would never get over my impulsive nature. I hadn’t thought any of this through. Alison had seemed like a really sweet person, funny and charismatic. What kind of f*cked up * chooses a girl like that as his rebound? I was probably going to crush this girl’s heart when I moved on. How was that fair to her?

I tried to reassure myself: maybe I wouldn’t move on. Maybe I’d really hit it off with her and we’d have a whirlwind romance that resulted in eloping to a tropical island. Or maybe she’d lock herself in her garage with a car running after I went out with her twice and never called her again. Stop it, Max. You’re being ridiculous. She probably doesn’t even have a garage.

I had just started rocking in my chair like the guy in Rain Man when I heard her.

“Max, hi. How are you?”

Her voice was so happy, her smile so genuine as she leaned down to give me a hug, that I swore Satan was carving my name on a seat in hell at that exact moment.

“Alison, so great to see you,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster as I returned her hug.

She giddily plopped herself in the chair across from me and slipped her purse under the chair. I quickly took her in. Her long, straight hair fell past her shoulders and spilled over a cream-colored shirt. She was beautiful.

It took me a moment to realize that she was staring at me, clearly waiting for me to say something. “Didn’t you wear a coat?” Smooth, Max.

She let out an awkward laugh and narrowed her eyes, as surprised to hear my words as I was. “Yeah, I checked it at the front.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Stupid question. So,” I took a long drink of my water, trying desperately to think of something to say. “How have you been?”

She crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward, putting those tits I loved a little more on display. “I’ve been pretty good. Work’s been steady. How about you?”

I started to reply, but was interrupted by the waiter. After he had read us the specials, taken our drink orders, and stared adoringly at Alison’s chest, I had totally forgotten what we were talking about. We sat in silence for a minute, both releasing a strained chuckle before she finally picked up the conversation.

“So I was really surprised to hear from you.”

“Yeah, well, I’d been thinking about you,” for about ten seconds before I called, “and finally decided to ask you out.”

“I’m glad you did,” she smiled sweetly. “You’ve been on my mind quite a bit since we met.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, hitting her with my signature smile that girls usually couldn’t resist. Tone it down. You’re on a date, not ho hunting. I relaxed my lips into a slight grin before continuing. “Thinking all good things, I hope.”

“Definitely good things.”

The waiter arrived with our drinks, and we continued with casual conversation. The more we talked, the more I liked her. She was down-to-earth, easy-going, and even funnier than I remembered. All of my reservations had nearly slipped away. That is, until I watched her reach for her wine glass midway through dinner.