Two tears in a bucket, fuck it.

If a man wanted to be with me, he damn sure better make me believe I was the only woman that existed, not his runner up.

So, as much as I wanted to believe I was still hurting over Sean, in truth, I was just bored. Pulling myself up to sit on the side of the pool, I let my feet dangle in the water, making circles while I fought to get my breath under control.

I had bigger issues than my lackluster love life. I had exactly two weeks to find a new job, and that was part of the problem. I wanted a career, not another escape from the never-ending question of where I fit in the grand scheme. But the more I thought about it, the more I came up empty.

I decided to look up some possible career choices on the web. I mean, that’s why God invented Google.

Making my way toward my towel on one of the empty lounge chairs, I heard the pool gate open. I looked up simply because for the last hour I’d been completely alone with my thoughts and the water.

“Holeeee shit,” I muttered under my breath as I turned away from the interloper, making sure my suit was covering all the right places. I’d seen more than one or two hot guys grace the pool.

Gerri and I had moved into this complex specifically because it catered to young twenty-something’s. We lived on the outskirts of Spartanburg, South Carolina, which housed five colleges. The city sat right on the border of North and South Carolina, nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountain range. I had grown up an hour closer to Columbia, but had ended up here for school. It was a decent enough city. Well, for a college kid.

It seemed an ideal place to live at first, but as of a year ago, I was over it once it proved to be just another ragged out college complex with too many alcohol induced parties and way too much visitor traffic. Unfortunately, Gerri insisted we finish out our lease.

Braving another glance over at the eye candy who took a seat in a lounge chair with his iPod in hand, I eyed him as he looked down, shuffling through his music. He glanced up at me then gave me a wink before putting the buds in his ears and closing his eyes.

I threw on my cover up and walked past him, relieved that I wouldn’t be forced to make small talk. What I did do was take in his tanned, toned legs, his hard and slightly ripped stomach, and pronounced pecs that covered an insanely broad chest. He was sweating already from the unforgiving sun and when my eyes drifted from his sculpted chin to his long fanned eyelashes, I damn near hit the edge of his chair as I walked past. His dark brown hair was an unruly mess and stuck up at all angles. It was thick and sexy as hell, and just long enough to run my hands through. He had a full sleeve of ink on his right arm. It was colorful and filled with musical notes and what looked like song lyrics. He moved his head slightly back and forth and I couldn’t peel my eyes away even after I passed his chair.

He probably dated girls with a contingency and told them flat out that it would just be for fun, nothing serious, no strings. And he probably got away with it often.

And that type of guy was most definitely not my type.

That’s all I ever heard any more about dating.

“He’s not looking for anything serious,” or, “I want to have fun but no more than that.”

These phrases seemed to be the motto of my generation of cowards. No one wanted to risk getting hurt. Or even worse, experience the feeling of rejection. Men and women of my age seemed to think it was a sign of weakness to admit to wanting more than casual sex.

Not me, I wanted to experience it all. I’d loved hard before and lost big, and it hadn’t killed me. It hurt, like it was supposed to. It also made me a junkie for more.

I loved the idea of falling hard for someone who could finish my sentences or finding a soul mate. I’d dated a ton over the last ten years and actually found it helpful instead of discouraging. I may have no idea what I wanted career wise, but I damn sure knew what I wanted in a man.

My expectations weren’t impossible to meet, either. But what I did know is I wanted that feeling again. And I knew someday I would have it. I’d given myself a break over the last year, only taking one walk of shame. It was a result of drunken sex, which is always great at the time, but a false memory in the morning. Looking at Mr. Sex with the iPod somehow made my situation seem hopeless. I wondered if all the men I was attracted to were casual play only.

If I was the last of the romantics of my generation, where could I possibly find my match? Were there any guys out there looking to do more than hook up with a random girl to get off? I was all for sexual gratification, but once I learned what sex and love felt like hand in hand, there was no going back.

Opening the gate, I heard the splash behind me, and though I didn’t want to look, I had to. This man was gorgeous. His arms waded through the water so gracefully that I stood motionless and dripping with my towel surrounding me. When he ended his lap at the other side of the pool and surfaced for air, his eyes found mine and I practically ran away, embarrassed I’d been busted. I did catch his sideways, curious glance and small smile before I bolted.

Walking back into my apartment, I closed the door, leaning with my hands splayed flat against it like I had just outrun a predator.

What the hell was that, Hilary? Oh, girl, you need to get laid.

I had always considered myself a pretty confident woman. Good looking guys with hot bodies had never intimidated me much before. I’d even had one or two between my legs. Apparently, I was getting rusty. And even as I thought about it, I knew it would take a back seat on my priority list.

Feeling the AC kick on, I hightailed it into the shower to get warm. Gerri, being the most considerate roommate in the world, barged in just as my shoulders relaxed under the scorching water.

“Let’s go to Mike’s.”

“No,” I said sharply as I listened to her rummaging through the drawers.

“One beer.”

“NO!” I barked. “I have work to do.”

“Like what?” she protested, shutting the toilet lid and planting herself on our shared throne.

“Look, I’m tired. I just need to think about my next move. Not tonight, okay?” I peeked out of the shower to see her fully dressed and in fresh makeup. She was sure I would agree.

“Take a twenty out of my wallet and go.”

She jumped off the toilet and clapped her hands. “I should’ve known you only wanted me for my money.”

“It’s not that. I’m...It’s...”

“I know,” I sighed. “It’s Mike and I’m going to remind you for the hundredth time, he’s got a girlfriend, whom he loves.”

Gerri gave me the same exasperation she always did when I nailed her with the truth.

“He will be mine.” She walked out of the bathroom, head held high as I shut the curtain, resuming my task. Gerri was a romantic in her own right. We’d been frequenting Mike’s for eight months due to her infatuation with him. She seemed to think it was kismet we stumbled into his bar. She’d been completely single focused in her pursuit of him, and faithful to boot. She hadn’t had a single man to our apartment since she declared her love. Unfortunately, the fascination seemed one sided. She was a glutton for the reminder, choosing to spend her tips sitting across from him almost every night. I envied her in a way and had hoped on more than one occasion she would get her wish.

My phone buzzed on my bed as I threw on my nightclothes. It was a group text from my mother to me and my siblings.

Mom: Brunch Sunday. No excuses, I want my kids under one roof. If you don’t come, we will carpool until every last one of you is picked up. Bradley PLEASE leave your girlfriend at home. I can’t stand her.