Page 8 of Yours, For Good

Yet it worked. Her genuine emails gave her such a strong voice that I could imagine her chatting with me, gazing around just like I did, taking in the wooden bar and panels covering the walls. She would see the pictures and movie posters that wallpapered every vertical surface, and tell me about all the thoughts they sparked in her brilliant mind. I didn't know how she looked but I expected her smile to be generous, and in my mind she grinned at me as we burned the night away.

It was a new experience. I had never had a JGH student be this open in their letters before, and the difference left me confused. Nora's words enthralled me— to the point I'd been distracted at work, thinking over her letters. Hell, dropping everything as soon as I got a notification. Re-reading them every few days.

A mirror doubled the rows of bottles across from me and, in a strange moment of detachment, I was surprised at seeing myself there. The image reflected serious eyes and a wrinkled brow. I had forgotten to take my glasses off, and it added to my solemn gesture.

The blue eyes and white skin I inherited from my father. The dark brown hair I inherited from my mother. My mood— it had to come from somewhere, too.

I cast my eyes down to my glass and turned it in place. Nora had gone to a bar with the plan to flirt, in her quest to get better at social interactions with the people around her. Maybe that was a place where I should take a lesson; except for my close-knit group of friends, I didn't spend a lot of time interacting socially.

While they seemed to appreciate me for who I was, no other relationships seemed to click for me. I had been born with a golden spoon, but sometimes I felt like I had not been taught to be a person. I had been coached to be a Pendleton. Until my grandmother took me under her wing for a blessed month every summer, and until Max came into my life, I had been one of those kids who met their parents for one hour each afternoon as a part of their daily schedule. It had left a mark.

I took a big gulp of beer, and thought of the letters my grandmother and I had exchanged through the years, and which I still kept in a box in my office.

"Rough day?" A femme voice asked to my side.

She sat on the stool I pretended Nora sat at, and I frowned.

"You look like you could use an ear," she added.

I lifted my eyes and took notice of the well-styled blonde hair, subtle make up, and golden ratio features.

She was classically beautiful in that English Rose type of way. It would make sense if attraction stirred in my guts. I searched for any sign of it, only to find complete stillness.

Initial disinterest, like Nora had said she'd felt.

"I'm okay," I said. "Thank you."

My neighbor cocked her head and studied me with curiosity. "That was polite, but I'm not going to pretend it didn't sting. I should have probably used a different opener, right?"

"I don't think your question was the problem." I smirked and sipped from my drink. "I'm sure many people would have taken you up on the offer of a supportive ear."

"What if that was just my way to get you to chat with me? Get to know you a little?"

I gazed down at her body, wrapped in a pretty, purple velvet dress, and fitting what most people might consider alluring.

My guts? Still silent.

"I don't think I'm available to be known." I slid my fingers up and down the glass, collecting on the condensation covering the material.

Once upon a time, I tried to understand romantic love. I gave it an honest chance; sex had been enjoyable enough when I got into it, but I felt no drive. My feelings never went beyond a general sense of caring, and things ended before they truly began.

No matter how many times I gave it a try, I had never been head over heels for anyone, and I had never been heartbroken.

Even now, chatting with someone most people might see as beautiful, my body had no response.

"Ouch. Okay." The pretty blonde got up from her stool. "I'll take the rejection graciously."

"I'm sorry. I don't see the point in leading you on."

"I actually appreciate that."

"Have a lovely evening."

"You, too."

She walked away without any fanfare.

I sighed and took another sip of beer. It might have been harder to dismiss romantic love in my life, if I felt attraction more often. As it was, the signs pointed to dating rarely giving you as much as you put into it.