I sigh, wishing I wasn’t so sober. Mom made it clear how she feels about me drinking at these events. Sometimes, I’d go to the bar and have a shot before they notice me, but tonight I’ve been too busy wondering if I made the right decision with Elias and Livy.

Hope I did.

It’s not long after Mom’s set off when the Rowand guy comes into the picture. I see him before he sees me. Large shoulders, hard cheekbones, and no smile on his face. His outfit fits him well, I’ll give him that.

He’s attractive, the mysterious type you read about in books. There’s a dark aura around him and coldness in his eyes that you can see from distance. Well, in my case, from two steps away.

Rowand doesn’t say hello, he just sits down, greeting me with a raise of his chin. I hide my shaky hands under the table, picking at my cuticles and I force a smile as a reply.

He has a whiskey glass in his ring-studded hand and lifts it to his lips, staring directly into my eyes. My gaze instantly darts away to the dance floor.

A chuckle reaches my ears and I turn back to him. No anxiety can stop me looking at him now, piercing him with my gaze.

Did he just laugh at me?

“What happened?” he has the nerve to say.

I shrug. “Nothing. Did I say something funny?”

I fake a smile and he shoots me a real one that shows a dimple. For fuck’s sake. He’s packed with muscles and has great taste in fashion.

Is there anything this guy doesn’t have? Oh, yeah. He lacks any sense of humor.

He sits up, fishes a cigarette out of his pocket, and lifts it in the air to indicate that he’s going out to smoke.

Rolling my eyes as he turns his back to me and leaves, I pray he’ll trip over the stairs on his way out so I can leave this hellish party.

* * *

This is the worst part of seeing my parents: taking my contacts out when I get home. They think I have hideous eyes.

Well, fuck you, Jarred and Louise.

I don’t care what people think about my eyes. Not that I’m in love with how they look either, but I don’t want to spend my life putting my contacts in and taking them out again. I’d rather not bother.

Unfortunately, Rowand didn’t smash his head as he was walking down the stairs. After he came back, we ate in silence. He continually checked his watch, like time couldn’t pass any slower.

The guy left as he came: with a bob of his head before standing up, and downing his last sip of whiskey.

Oddly, he was the best date my mom has ever chosen.