“Are you a model?” Griffin looks me up and down, probably wondering how a shorty like me would be walking a runway. The five-inch heels I’d need to meet the standard height requirement would cause me to break both my ankles. It’s a question I get asked a lot, with my mom being tall, but my dad is shorter and I got his side of the family’s genes.

“A designer. Bridal gowns.”

“Did you design that?” He points to my dress.

“No. This is my mom’s wedding dress. It’s vintage Dior.”

“Dee who?”

“Dior. The designer.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know much about fashion.”

“That’s okay.”

“So, New York, huh?”

“Have you been?”

“No. I’ve barely been out of Nevada.” He runs a hand through his hair and I’m captivated by the visual of his biceps flexing against his sleeve. “Never been on a plane.”

“Really?” My surprise is evident, my tone borderline condescending. Griffin laughs out of his nose. I can tell he’s embarrassed.

I have to remember that not everyone grew up with a runway model mom and a dad who was a professional photographer. Their careers took us all over the world. I’d been to nine different countries before I was nine years old.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Instinctively my hand reaches for Griffin’s arm in a comforting gesture. It’s meant to be a reassuring gesture, but when my fingers meet his warm skin, feel the firm cords of muscle flex beneath them, my entire body starts to tingle with need.

I’m a nurturer by nature. That’s probably why Alec stayed even when he realized we weren’t right for each other. He liked being taken care of, his needs met and put first. He liked to brag to his friends that I was a chill, low maintenance girlfriend. That it didn’t take much to make me happy. I was always proud that I wasn’t the needy girlfriend that he said his dating friends complained about, but that badge of honor made it hard for me to tell Alec what I needed from him. And when low maintenance turned into no maintenance, I felt like I was painted into a corner. After giving and giving, Alec had been shocked by my ‘sudden’ demand for more attention and care in our relationship.

I’d simply ask for Alec to show more affection when we were out to dinner or at an event. He said he wasn’t into PDA. I’d argue that PDA and sweet gestures that acknowledge my presence are two different things. It’s clear now, from the message he left earlier, that he really just wasn’t into me.

When Griffin’s eyes lift from my hand to my face, I immediately pull my hand away.