He’s a player with a heart of ice and the belief that love doesn’t exist--until he meets the last woman he thought that he’d fall for.

Chapter 1

Derek

I woke up to bright sunlight in a bed I was not accustomed to. Not that it was a surprise-I hardly ever slept in my own bed anymore. As with every normal day, I saw clothes strewn everywhere. My shirt, pants, belt…They were all scattered around the fancy wallpapered room. I sat up, rubbing my eyes and yawning. Time to run.

A pair of skinny, pale arms wrapped around my stomach, and I turned back. Last night’s conquest, Jenny—or was it Judy?—gazed at me with wide, pleading eyes. How annoying. This was the part I hated the most.

“Derek, can’t you stay?” she cooed. “I’ll make breakfast.” Yeah, right. More like order it like all rich, spoiled people did.
“I’m sorry, but I am needed elsewhere.” I kept talking as I grabbed various pieces of clothing and tugged them on. “Thanks anyway.” I leapt out of the canopy bed and started towards the door.

“Oh, come on. You know you want to stay. I’m up for another round, if you want.” Jenny or Judy fluttered her eyelashes. I resisted gagging. Clingy women were not attractive.

“No, I really need to go. Bye, Jenny.” It was a guess but maybe it was close enough that she’d think I said her other name or something.

I thought I faintly heard a sad, “It’s Angela”, but by then, the door had slammed behind me. One more door closed on the world of women. I liked to think of it symbolically as yet another reminder why love can’t exist. Who would fall in love with women? They were good for one night, maybe two, but that was it. Any more would be asking to be burnt at stake. My pocket buzzed and I flipped my phone open.

“Derek, man, where are you? I’m trying to cover for you at the job, but you better get your ass over here or you’re fired!” a voice hollered through the speaker.

“I got it, Dev. Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’ll be there,” I chuckled.

“You better be. Oh, and there are so damn fine girls here, so you’ll be missing out.” I rolled my eyes and snapped my phone shut before stepping into my sleek black Mustang. I caught the faintest movement and saw Angela/Jenny/Judy standing at the door with a down look. Who the hell cared? There were hordes of hot women just waiting for a lay at the job, and I was going to provide it for them. The day I actually fell for one of these twisted, crazy, self absorbed, not to mention clingy and amazingly shallow females would be a day to remember.

  

Demy

“Demy, I swear, if you do not get up from bed this instant, I’ll…”
Even though it was a worthless threat, I shot up. There was no point of trying to get any more sleep now that the bullhorn voice was ingrained into my mind.

“You’ll what?” I mumbled, focusing my bleary eyes on my dorm buddy, Crystal. She put her hands on her hips and glared down at me. I resisted the urge to laugh at the frilly apron she was wearing. It didn’t suit her glowering face.

“Something. You don’t want to know.” She humphed and stomped out of the room. Her voice still managed to pierce the air after she’d left.

“GET UP DEMY MCADAMS OR THERE WILL BE HELL TO PAY.” I practically tumbled out of the blankets.

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled, and slid out of bed. That voice was like a mini explosion in itself. My hair was messy and hanging in all directions, and my blue eyes looked uncoordinated and foggy. Then I remembered what day it was.

“Aw man,” I exclaimed. “Working Wednesday.”

Crystal must have ears of a bat, since she screeched, “That’s right! So get your sorry butt out of bed and hurry up! We have lots of work to do.”

I groaned loudly so she’d hear my complaint. “Do I have to?”

“Yes you do!” she yelled. “You’re lucky I even make breakfast for you and not just drag you of bed by the hair and throw you out into the streets.”

“What you do now is close enough,” I grumbled, staggering into the bathroom. Once I’d splashed cold water onto my face, I felt more alive.

Crystal was standing in front of the table laden with pancakes and milk, arms crossed and one holding a newspaper.

“You look like a drill sergeant,” I remarked.

She slapped me in the head with the newspaper.

“Ow! What the heck was that for?”

“Eat your pancakes,” she snapped.

I ate them quietly, stopping in between to sprinkle more syrup on top. Crystal kept recoiling at all the maple syrup I was drizzling on the hotcakes. It was not my problem if I had an addiction to anything sweet. Like she would understand my sugar fetish, with her salad lunches and stick thin figure. Not that I was fat—I happen to exercise, you know—but I was not going to be denied life’s simple pleasures.

The moment I ate the last piece, she whisked the plates away, washed them, and placed them in the dishwasher, stopping for a minute to comb back her curly blonde hair. I looked at my watch.

“Fifty-five seconds this time. It’s a new record,” I said.

“Shut up.” She hit me with the newspaper again and grabbed my backpack, tossing it at me. “Let’s go. We’re going to be late for school. Professor Schwartz hates late morning stragglers. Oh, and we should go grocery shopping too. I just hope we have time.”

“Considering the time you woke me up, I’m sure we’ll have enough time,” I grouched, making a face.

She ignored it and whirled out the door like the Tasmanian devil. Crystal was so surprising with her OCD and panicky hurry every day. It had all been her way of getting over her boyfriend, Dev, when he’d cruelly broken up with her by cheating on her with his ex. Personally, I didn’t understand what she saw in the guy. But if she was really infatuated with narcissist, cheating playboy jerks, I guessed I would support her no matter what. Even though their relationship had only lasted a month. Ah well, Crystal had always had a problem with letting go.

“What’s taking so long? Get out of there!” she yelled.

“All right already!” I made a pissed sound in my throat before grabbing my backpack and stomping out. I’d dated a few guys, but they’d all been assholes, so I’d just given up on the Y chromosome race. Seriously, what good were they but someone who you could share your sexual tension and to make you look good? Absolutely no use at all. The lady needed to get a grip.

  

Derek

Shit. I was so fucking late it was going to be hard to weasel out of this one. What was with the damn New York traffic? Couldn’t they go one day without rush hour? I pounded my horn in frustration and it beeped loudly. I saw the guy in the cab next to me flip me off. Well fuck him too.

I was getting desperate. Dev may be a forgiving person, but the boss certainly wasn’t. Also, he wasn’t going to be able to keep up a façade for me very long. I was going to get chewed out bad if I arrived one hour late, and at this rate, it’d probably be an hour and a half before I could even see the front of the bar.

Frustrated, I looked out the tinted windows at the sidewalk just to distract myself from the obvious fact that I was in deep, deep shit. I glanced at my watch. Eleven thirty.

Ah, crap.

Then, I spotted my potential savior. A girl with brown hair riding a bicycle, her long legs noticeable under the capris she wore. She looked naturally pretty, and I would have stopped to peruse her if I hadn’t been in a hurry. I hastily slid the car into one of the open spots at Starbucks and then rushed after her. Luckily she was steering around pedestrians, and I had a clear way. In no time I was in front of her and she braked.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed, her blue eyes glittering. She got off her bike and put her hands on the handlebars, glaring at me. “Would you have liked to get run over by a bicycle?”

“Can I borrow the bike? I’ll return it, promise.” I hadn’t even waited for her answer, grabbing the handlebars and yanking them out of her hold. Not exactly the gentlemanly thing to do, but I was willing to risk one possible night entertainer for my job.

“Not so fast, buster. How do I know you’re going to return it? And if you hadn’t noticed, I have some things I need to carry out on my bike, too.” That was when I realized there was a carton of eggs and some tomatoes in a bag in the basket attached to the bike. I was going to look like a fool riding this thing.

“I’ll pay you.” C’mon, accept the deal, it’s not that hard…

“Deal.” I breathed a sight of relief. “But you have to pay me twenty bucks an hour, plus deposit of one hundred dollars.”

“What the hell? You’ve got to be kidding me.” The stony expression made me understand that no, this was not a joke.

“I have to know that you’re not going to take my bike and run. Therefore, I request one hundred dollars. Since my bike was ninety dollars, plus tax, I would say that this is a pretty fair deal.” She crossed her arms. I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes before twelve. I didn’t have the time to stand here bickering with a math genius.

“Okay,” I relented.

She held out her hand and I slapped the dollar bills into it. “Give me your cell phone,” she demanded.

“Why?” I asked, puzzled.

“You idiot. How am I supposed to know whether or not you’re done? She expertly flipped open the phone and typed in a bunch of numbers, then handed it back to me. “Okay, my number’s under Demy Gavinchy, so when you’re done call me.” She waved my hundred dollars in front of my face. “A hundred dollars should be enough incentive for that.”

I have never met a girl more annoying than this one. Who could stand people like these? Seriously.

I got on the bicycle, staring out at the traffic. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if the traffic had already cleared up. But nope, the cars were still squashed together. It looked like the argument hadn’t been as long as it had felt like.

I realized that the eggs and tomatoes were still stuffed in the basket, and women were peering curiously out of their cars and checking me out, unembarrassed in the slightest. Screw them; I already looked like a sissy anyway. I pedaled my way through the roads and locked up the bike at the racks of Underground. In the mornings, it was a calm place where guys would come to watch football games on the TV’s and eat breakfast. But in the evening, it went totally wild. Women dressed from dresses to almost nothing at all would come to dance and drink. Many people hated their jobs, but I absolutely loved mine.

“Dude, where the hell were you? Get inside! The boss is absolutely steaming,” Dev hissed, rushing outside. The rough wind whipped his long, stringy brown hair into his eyes. The coffee color reminded me of the hair of that girl—Demy. Well, this was a first. I remembered her name.

“Calm down,” I said, walking with him inside the darkness of the bar, then hearing the television blaring. “I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.”

“You wish, Lexington!” a voice bellowed angrily. Holy shit, here it comes.

Mr. Groening marched out, his big face swelled and red. It made him look like a pissed off bouncer, which suited the atmosphere of this club perfectly. His bald head shown under the dim lights.

“You gonna tell me why you’re an hour and a half late?” he yelled. A crowd of spectators made up of guests and waiters began gathering around us, anticipating a showdown, I gathered.

“I had business,” I said smoothly. Dev smirked behind Groening’s back, obviously well informed of what the “business” was.

“Business more important than your job?” Mr. Groening roared.

“Actually, yes. It didn’t take that long. There was congestion everywhere after, so I had a difficult time getting here.” Then, in a more pleading tone, I said, “Please forgive me this once, Mr. Groening. It won’t happen again. And I tried to get here quickly, I swear. Look, I even rode a bike here.” I gestured to the window.

“Huh. Did something happen to that show-offy car of yours, Lexington?” he asked, peering out the glass as if thinking my Mustang was hiding somewhere.

“No, the traffic was just so bad I had to borrow this bike from a girl on the street.”

“Oh, I see it,” he chortled. “I guess this morning was punishment enough for you. Derek Lexington, having to ride a lowly bike to work! Use those eggs and tomatoes and make us some nice omelets, eh?” He clapped me on the back with a big beefy hand, and I bit back a grunt. “Keep up the good work, or I really may have to fire you!” he laughed and it bounced off the walls even after he left.

“Got it, sir,” I muttered, then walked behind the bar, beginning my wiping of the counter in preparation for evening.

“That was embarrassing,” Dev remarked sidling up to the stools.

I shrugged offhandedly. “It was better than getting fired. I got off easy.”

“You did,” he agreed. “You’re lucky the boss likes you so much. All of his tantrums are pretty much just to liven this place up in the mornings. You’ve been late countless times, and he’s still joking around with you. If I was late even one minute, my ass would be fried.”

I grinned, unable to hold back. “Lucky I had that girl to steal a bike from, or else I’d be even more screwed.”

“Stole?” Dev wiggled his eyebrows. “More like charmed, right?”

“Nah, she was pretty much impenetrable. I agreed to pay her. Oh yeah, I gotta call her and give it back.”

“Ha, impenetrable? Why’d she give you her number then?” He smirked.

“Right-o, man.” Yeah, who could refuse the charm? This girl was like all others—smitten with me. So much for a change.

  

Demy

“Jeez that guy was weird,” I mumbled to myself as I begun walking towards the campus of Columbia. Good looks were no excuse for weirdness. I was slightly worried about what Crystal would say when she saw that I had come back with nothing for dinner from my grocery shopping expedition. If that guy broke the eggs or squashed the tomatoes even a bit, I was going to make him pay a hefty fee.

Never thought lending things would be such a great source of money.

“Demy! Where did your bike go?” Crystal asked, her eyes widened in worry.

“No worry, I just lent it to some dude on the street,” I said, waving an arm, dismissing her anxiety.

“What? How could you do something stupid like that?” she exclaimed, slapping my head.

“Ow! What was that for?” I rubbed my head, no doubt messing up my hair. Oh, what the hell…I snapped it all into a high ponytail. “Don’t worry. He’s not a hobo or anything. He paid me one hundred dollars in deposit.”

“Maybe he stole that money!” Crystal hissed.

“He was well dressed too. And quite good-looking, I might add.” He did have nice grayish eyes and a killer smile.

“I don’t care if he was Leonardo DiCaprio, you do not go around giving people your bike.”

“Oh, cool it, Mom,” I said offhandedly. Crystal gave a squeal of indignation, spinning around and stomping over the lawns of the campus. That done, I headed towards Creative Writing II with Professor Schwartz, forgetting all about the guy who randomly took my bike and the groceries along with it.