Damn.

Damn.

Damn.

“No worries,” I say with forced lightness before spotting Demi and Rowan camped out at a table in the corner. “I’m sure I’ll find someone else.”

Hopefully.

“I really am sorry, Syd. You know how much I love working with you.”

Marco has modeled for me several times throughout the years, and he’s the absolute best. We usually end up laughing and joking around the entire time.

Even though he can’t see me do it, I wave a hand. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’ll find another model. I’ve got time.”

Sort of.

“Okay, girl. Talk soon.”

“Yup.” I hit disconnect and drop onto the bench opposite them.

Demi and Rowan have turned into one of those couples who sit on the same side of the table, even when they’re alone. It’s super barfy. As much as I’d like to roll my eyes, I can’t. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s Demi. Her last boyfriend put her through the wringer. The guy was a real jerk. Not only did she find him in a compromising situation with his pants around his ankles with one of our teammates, Annica—what a bitch—but he then proceeded to spread around campus that she was the one cheating on him.

The only good to come out of that situation is that Rowan was finally able to win Demi over. And the rest is relationship history.

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m a little jelly of what they have. My last relationship was a veritable roller-coaster of emotions. High-highs and low-lows. It was a constant whirlwind of breakups and makeups before we finally pulled the plug and decided to go our separate ways. I can’t say that the making up part wasn’t a blast, but the constant bickering was exhausting. What I learned from that epic fail is that sometimes it’s just not possible to make a relationship work—no matter how much you both want it. Ethan was a great guy, but we weren’t meant for the long haul.

The second thing I discovered?

That I need to take a legit hiatus from men.

Ethan wasn’t my first break up. I’ve had a long string of ill-fated relationships. I have a nasty habit of extracting myself from one disastrous situation only to dive headfirst into another. After the latest debacle, I’m taking a little time to get to know myself and figure out what I really want.

And you know what?

It’s kind of nice.

All right, the lack of sex isn’t great. But other than that, I’m happy.

Fine, if not entirely happy, then at least content.

We’ll just go with that.

Anything less and I would be venturing into pathetic territory, and I’m unwilling to go there. I don’t need a man to be satisfied, and that’s what I’m set on proving to myself once and for all. I’m perfectly content on my own.

Except when I’m around these two lovebirds. And all their obnoxious canoodling.

They’re seriously too cute for words.

It makes me want to puke. Or cry into a pint of Cherry Garcia.

Rowan whispers something in Demi’s ear and a light blush blooms in her cheeks. I can just imagine what he’s saying. Or promising.

Ugh.

See what I have to deal with?

I’d be better off eating lunch by myself.

“All right, you two,” I grumble, “break it up before I have to get out the hose.” And contrary to popular belief, I will, indeed, hose these two off. Their sexual chemistry is enough to induce immaculate conception.

Demi straightens before shoving Rowan back a couple of inches. Although, let’s face it, he’s not going far. The guy is completely enamored by her. I suspect it’s been that way for years. There was once a time when Demi professed to hate her father’s star quarterback and did everything in her power to avoid him. I had no idea how Rowan did it, but he managed to break through all her barriers, and now they’re Western’s most swoonworthy couple.

“Hey,” Demi greets. There’s a breathless quality to her voice. “What’s up?” She does her best to blink the sexual haze from her eyes before inspecting me with more care. “That’s a whole lot of unhappiness going on there,” she says, pointing to the general vicinity of my face.

“It’s nothing.” I shrug and attempt to downplay the desperateness flooding through me. I’m practically drowning in it. “I need to find a male model for an art class project. Unfortunately for me, all of the usual suspects have been snapped up.” My voice drops as I reluctantly admit, “I should have done this weeks ago, but I was so bogged down with my accounting course. I’ve made a few calls, but everyone is booked up tight.”

“No worries, Syd. I’ll model for you,” Rowan offers. “How hard can it be to strike a pose?” Looking robotic, he makes a few gestures with his hands.

A genuine smile lifts my lips.

Have I mentioned how much I adore Rowan?

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