The feeling is fleeting though.

He hasn’t been mine for months, and watching the two of them share a laugh across the candle lit table, it’s clear that he’ll never be mine.

Deep breath. Head high. Big-girl panties on.

I step out into the dining room and immediately trip over the leg of a chair that hasn’t been pushed in all the way. Quickly recovering, I hope that no one has seen me, but of course I can’t be that lucky. When the “oh shit,” slips out of my mouth, Bryan looks up at me from his table. I wave shyly from behind his girlfriend and the most adorable and sexy grin splits his face.

I take that as my cue to approach them even though my heart is hammering in my chest at the thought of speaking to him again. Add in the minor complication that he’s on a freaking date and well, you can just imagine my current pulse rate.

Swallowing back my nervousness, and my pride for that matter, I stand before them. “Hi, Bryan. It’s so good to see you again.” Wow, that sounded cheesy even to my own ears.

“Hey, Melanie. Yeah, you too.” A spell of awkward silence falls in our little bubble as we just stare at each other for a moment. The silence is broken by a throat being cleared.

“Hi, I’m Abbey.” Of course she has a cute as a button southern drawl. I don’t want to be rude, well I do, but I won’t. Extending my hand to her, we shake politely.

“So how do you guys know each other?” She gestures her hand in between me and Bryan. Quickly gauging his inability to speak, I answer for him.

“We used to work together when he was at Ithaca.” She nods at my answer as Bryan busies himself with taking a sip of water. In desperate need to get away from the awkwardness, I pull out my notepad and pen. “So what can I get you tonight?”

They place their orders and I try my best to maintain the composure I thought I had. But, watching them talk and laugh with each other, wears on me. Every now and then, I catch Bryan looking over at the wait station, or his eyes track me as I serve the other tables. By the end of their meal, I feel trampled on. It’s one thing to feel like you’ve moved on, but to see the other person actually moving on right in front of you, well, it forces you to take a few steps back.

Their conversation draws on well past the “finished with dessert” portion of their date, so when I drop the check on their table, I let them know that there’s no rush before abruptly turning away. My words and my eyes do not conceal my pain though. It’s crazy how I thought I was doing well, how I thought I had moved on.

So much for that.

Collecting their bill, and rather generous tip, about twenty minutes later, I say “thank you” with as much politeness as I can muster. But the other table that has been busting my non-existent balls all night has frayed my nerves. Add that to my crushed-to-a-million pieces heart from Bryan’s table, and I’m just glad that I’m the first to be cut tonight. It’s slow anyway so it’s not like I’ll be losing out on that much money.

Sometime around ten, I step out into the autumn night. The air is cool and crisp, and if I had to walk further than just across the street, I would need much more than my thin white button up waitress shirt. Taking a few minutes to regain my composure, I lean against the back of the building and pinch the bridge of my nose. On a deep inhale and a shaky sigh, I push off of the beat-up wood siding and nearly scream when Bryan appears before me.

Out of pure instinct, I punch him lamely on the arm in self-defense. “Holy fucking shit! You scared the crap out of me.” I am practically panting as the fear recedes.

Feigning injury as he rubs the spot on his arm that I just punched, Bryan’s face contorts into a knot of faux pain. Calling his bluff, I smirk at him – once I realize it’s him – and laugh at his antics. “Oh, stop it. I barely even got you.”

“I don’t know. There might be some bruising,” he jokes as he lifts the short sleeve of his polo shirt up over his bicep. When I see the small, red welt that I’ve caused, I reach out to soothe it and then realize that touching his muscled and goose bump-covered flesh would not be a good idea.

So instead of doing what my fingers feel compelled to do, I shove my hands into my pockets and rock on my heels. “Sorry ‘bout that.” While both of us sober from our momentary burst of playfulness born from my inner scaredy-cat, Bella steps out of the back door with an over-stuffed bag of trash in tow.

“Here. Let me get that, Bella.” Always the gentleman, my swoon-radar goes into full swing. I doubt there will ever be a time when what Bryan says or does will not have an effect on me.

With a wink and a nod, Bella retreats into her restaurant while saying, “You two have a good night.”

But a “good night” is the last thing I’ll have. Bryan was here on a date. With snarky accusations resting on the tip of my tongue, I stare up into the night sky and try to gather as much strength from the beauty that I see there as possible.

Turns out that it isn’t much.

Before the silence can descend upon us, I step to the side and offer up a lame smile. “I should get going.” I point in the direction of my small, but cozy home.

When I’m no more than a step past him, I hear the gravel crush under his feet as he turns toward my retreating back. “Melanie.” My name sounds more like a question as it tumbles off his soft lips. When he adds, “please,” right after my name, I stop dead in my tracks.

Unable to ignore the pained tone of his words, I turn to face him. Still unable to look in his eyes, I keep mine glued to the rocks and pebbles beneath me.

They’re suddenly very interesting.

Bryan’s shiny black dress shoes inch into view. For each step that I take backward, he takes another one forward. My head is a scrambled mess, and after seeing him here with another girl tonight, I just don’t know if I can be in such close proximity with him again.

His long fingers grasp my wrist as he pulls me into his space. With his other hand, he tips my chin up so that our eyes meet.

As his thumb gently traces the line of my jaw, I want to lean into it. I want to inhale the woodsy, clean scent of his cologne, but I know if I do, I’ll melt into a puddle of nothingness at his feet.

He doesn’t say anything at first. We just stand there – gazes locked, skin aflame, hearts pounding. As Bryan leans in to kiss me, his lips are so close that I can smell the cinnamon on his breath. My stomach flops both out of desire and of disgust.

Drawing on every ounce of strength I have come to find in myself over the last few months, I force myself to take a step back. “Bryan, I can’t. I mean you were just … we shouldn’t.” I sound like I’m chewing on my tongue – the words just don’t come out as easily as I want them to.

Stepping toward me once more, he extends his hand to my face and cups my cheek. “It wasn’t a date, Melanie.” For the second time tonight, my world spins slightly off its axis.

“But you two were … it looked like … I don’t get it.” So much for inner strength – or eloquence for that matter.

Lacing his fingers together with mine, he brings my knuckles up to his soft lips. “I know what it looked like, but it wasn’t.” He brushes our joined fingers across his stubble-roughened jawline and leans into my them as they move across his skin.

“But, Bryan …” My breathless words are lost in the cool autumn air.

Pulling our hands from his face and back to his lips once more, he plants one last gentle kiss on the palm of my hand before releasing it all together. “There are no buts. It wasn’t a date. Abbey is a new student in my grad-school program. She wanted me to show her around, and when she saw Bella’s, she insisted that we eat here. I had no idea that you worked here, but I should have known better when Bella laughed and wagged an eyebrow at me when I walked in.”

He tucks a rebellious strand of hair that is blowing wildly in the breeze behind my ear and lets his fingers tangle in the hair at my nape for more than a quick beat. Angling my head up to his, he cups my cheek with his other hand and whispers, “I miss you,” when he’s less than a centimeter from my lips.

When his mouth touches mine, time stops. He moves so slowly that I can almost feel every line and crevice on his plump lips. The heat of his kiss brands me; it sears through my soul and sets flight to a swarm of butterflies in my belly. His tongue lightly traces the crease of my sealed lips seeking permission to enter, but when I open my mouth to speak, to tell him that we need to talk, he takes it as an open invitation to make love to my mouth.

His tongue presses up against mine and tangles and weaves it magic; I’m lost to any kind of logical thought. Out of pure lust, I wrap my arms around his waist and pull his body flush against mine. With the cool chill in the air and the sweltering heat radiating between us, my nipples harden instantly. Feeling them rub up against his chest, even if it is through the layers of clothing that we’re wearing, forces a flood of moisture to pool in my panties.

With his lips still dancing erotically over mine, Bryan mumbles, “I want you. Please, let me have you.”

“I’m yours, Bryan. Only yours.” As our lips fuse together once more, all thoughts of the things I need to say, of the things he needs to know, simply vanish.

I don’t think either of us know how it happens, but in what feels like seconds we’re crashing through my front door, pulling and tearing at each other’s clothes. The girls may very well have been in the living room. I think I heard Cammie call out our names while Lia whistled loudly, but when I hear the soft click and turn of my bedroom lock, all other noise fades into the background. Our collective and ragged breaths are the only sound that remains.