Chapter 1: This Story Will Change Your Life

*~Dani~*

It's 9:15 a.m.

A sudden increase in anxiety rushes through my body. I can't be late to work; not on my first day. My order when in twenty minutes ago in an empty coffee house, yet still no signs of it. That's how San Francisco rolls, though. Laid back and relaxed After living in New York the past couple of years, the change of pace is a relief.

"Danithqa?"

What?! Is that even a name? I look around. There are two people sitting at a small table with their drinks. There's also a man at the Sweetener station with his drink. That could only mean one thing.

"Did you mean...Dani?" I ask her.

"Whatever, " she replies, "Iced Macchiato. Have a good one."

Before I can say anything, the employee disappears to the back room. I sigh and carry my drink to the counter to grab napkins. The man beside looks up and smiles. He's attractive; tall, green eyes, carefully disheveled red hair. I know what's coming - he's already made the first move with eye contact.

"They screw names up all the time in this place," he informs me, "I'm Evan, but here they call me Effin."

I let a small laugh escape me. Points for humor.

"Well Effin, despite what my cup says, I'm Dani."

Evan smiles at me and eyes the sugar packets in my hand.

"Don't think you need those, I bet you're sweet enough already," he teases.

Wow. It's the only thing I can initially think. I fasten the lid back on my coffee, take a deep breath, and respond in the least asshole- like way I can.

"So... you think I'm sweet?" I ask, "That's really cute, but you'll need to do better than that".

Evan's mouth falls open. Perhaps he's not used to disinterest. Perhaps girls around here are easily impressed these days. Either way, I don't care. In New York things like this came flying out of every character I passed on the street at night. They do not bother or impress me. I watch him as he clears his throat and composes himself.

"Are you some sort of dating guru? A master in the art of flirtation?" he inquires.

"Actually yes. I'm a new writer for ClickIt - Specifically for the love and dating section. The art of wooing is my specialty."

"I see," Evan says skeptically, " well then, give me an assessment."

I give him a critical glance. Then I smile and give him my evaluation.

"You're confident but not too cocky, you didn't come off as a creeper, " I reply, "Your body language is relaxed which makes you approachable, good eye contact, decent sense of humor...and if you doubted how you're doing... I'm still talking to you. That's the biggest sign you're doing just fine."

"Wow, you weren't kidding," Evan praises me, impressed.

I look down at my watch. Shit.

"I need to get to work, " I explain, "but how about you give me your number and maybe you can show me around sometime?"

I hold my phone out to him and he eagerly accepts it. He programs his number in and hands it to me. When I see it listed as Effin, I laugh. He turns a little red in the cheeks and looks at me with what I can only describe as intense curiosity.

"How are you even single?" he asks.

"Maybe I'm waiting for Mr. Right," I tease, "or maybe I just found him. See you around, Evan."

With a small nod in his direction I exit the cafe. I don't even need to look back to know that he's staring after me in utter surprise.

Fortunately I get to my office building on time. Unfortunately, between waiting for an elevator and weaving through a busy lobby, I'm five minutes late. The secretary waves me through when I show my credentials and I walk into my new workspace.

Whoa.

My first thought is Seventies acid trip. Lots of bright colors, mismatched seating arrangements, pop art on the walls. Somehow, it works. I pass cubicles in which writers inhabit chairs, yoga balls, or stand by choice. It's overpowering; in my distracted state I nearly run into someone. I stop abruptly and stare up at him.

"Hey! You must be my new writer, Dani!"

He extends his hand and shakes mine far to vigorously.

"I'm Martin, " he introduces himself, "your Editor-In-Chief. Now come with me, we're just about to have a morning meeting. You can meet some of the head staff."

I follow him to a strange room defined by a modern cut archway. Beyond it I see a plethora or writers sitting on various accommodations - the most interesting of which is stationary bike. There is also, I notice, an overwhelming male presence. I am the only female senior writer in the room. Martin claps his hands together and the voices go silent. They turn their attention to the front and I feel all eyes wander to me.

"Good Morning Gents! Oh uh, Lady and Gents, "he gestures to me, "I'd like to introduce Dani! She'll be taking over the fashion and romance section of ClickIt!'

Silence. No hellos, no waves, just one smile in a far-off corner. I'm so uncomfortable it's scary.

"Dani is a welcome addition to our staff, and is quite accomplished, "Martin continues, "Her personal blog post 'Worst Date Ever' got 2 million hits, 500,000 shares and plenty of retweets. I'm sure she already has an idea for her first article!

He put me on the spot, but luckily an idea had been rattling around my head for a few days now. I smile, look out at the sea of men, and pitch it.

"Actually yes. I was thinking 'How to Ask Guys Out In Three Steps'".

An arrogant looking blond man in the front row scoffs. He stands and I immediately know his deal. Too much hair product, short and clearly conscious of it, fleece best, cliché tribal arm band tattoo. Oh, boy.

"Why in the hell would a woman ask a man out?!" he smirks, "that's something only a weak beta male would allow."

I know I should be professional. I know I need this job. But sexism brings out the worst in me.

"What's your name?" I ask quietly.

"TJ, and I'll call you babe," he announces.

"Well, TJ, " I retort, "Maybe I should write a fashion tutorial article to help you out. It looks like you bought your wardrobe from the same place ClickIt bought their furniture. Was Sesame Street having a sale?"

The only smiling face in the room lets out a laugh and quickly muffles it. TJ narrows his eyes and I prepare myself.

"See Martin, " He grumbles, "this is what happens when you hire a chick. Instead of working all she wants to do is redecorate."

"Oh, I'll redecorate, and I'll start with your unfortunate face."

This time the guy in the back laughs so hard he snorts. I give him an appreciative smile; TJ glares at him.

"Shut up Felix!" He shouts, "Your idea for writing is crap. Here's a better one - "Five Ways to Please Your Man In Bed' If you need hands on research I can be of service-"

"OKAY," Martin interjects, "as lovely as that sounds, an idea just came to me. Dani, your first assignment is this: 'The 10 Guys You Date In Your Twenties'. You will go out on 10 dates with ten iconic personalities. You will write about each experience. It's due in a month, and I expect a progress report every Monday morning."

I'm silently thankful Martin rolls over my dispute with TJ, but also annoyed. TJ must be a favorite. Still, Martin's thrown a solid idea my way, and I admit to myself that it piques my interest. I nod and smile at him.

"On one condition," I add sarcastically, "I don't have to ask TJ out for the iconic 'douchebag' date."

TJ makes a noise of protest, but Martin holds a hand up. Hey ends the meeting before TJ can insult me again. I smile at him as I make my way to my cubicle and feel relief when he doesn't follow me. My four small walls are bare; I sit at my desk and take it in. Then I take a few pictures from my purse and tack them to the wall on my right: One of the NYC skyline, One of the Bay from before I left, One of my family and...one with my best friend from University. I don't linger on them long, though, because someone is standing at my cubicle entrance. I turn around and recognize the friendly face.

"Felix, right?" I ask.

"Yes," he smiles, "hey…sorry about TJ back there. He was being an ass…more than usual."

"I get the feeling his allowed to be," I mutter, " and don't apologize for him. I'll show him a thing or two when my articles go viral."

Our conversation comes to a halt when a woman approaches him in a frustrated flurry. She holds an empty container right up to Felix's face.

"FELIX! WHERE IS THE HORSERADISH?!" she shouts, " Did you use it all in that challenge vid?! I needed it for my recipe today!"

"W..well…y..yes," Felix stutters nervously, "I…I even got horseradish trending. Th… the Doctor said I should regain feeling in my tongue soon."

"Super!" she hisses before looking at me, "now my video will be late because I have to buy more!"

She looks at me, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Whatever you do," she warns me, "DON'T agree to food challenges with this one."

Without another word she stalks away; I stare after her half amused, half scared. Felix just stares in pure admiration.

"Who is that?" I ask.

"Oh…," Felix sighs, "That's just Isabel".

"Oh, Isabel?" I tease in the sappiest voice I can muster.

"N- no, not like-"

"C'mon man, this is my area of expertise," I reason, "I get it. You like her."

"Oh, hah...she's...nice, but what about your assignment? Have any ideas for your first date? Know anyone in the area?"

At the mention of knowing people he distracts me from the teasing. I subconsciously turn to the picture on my bulletin board. To our two smiling faces and graduation gowns. There's someone alright, but it's been a long time.

"There's one guy," I muse, "Mark, a good friend from University."

"Gonna call him?"

That question brings me back to Earth. Will I call him? It's been a long time. And we left things on awkward terms.

"I... it's complicated, " I confess, "I'm not sure yet. I did meet someone this morning though."

"Boy, you don't waste any time!" Felix jokes.

A fleeting smile crosses my face before my thoughts turn back to Mark. Throughout my years in New York, memories of him and our friendship wove in and out of my thoughts. Since I made the decision to move home his presence in my head has been a more frequent occurrence. I sit back, staring blankly at my computer. His phone number is still in my phone, but I don't think I can bring myself to call. At this point, I doubt he even wants to hear from me. I doubt he even thinks of me these days.

*~Mark~*

"There's not enough coffee on this planet for me right now."

I look at the bottom of my empty Starbucks cup in sheer despair. Dammit. As we pass a nearby bin I chuck it. Though it's another great San Fran day I don't really notice. Exhaustion creeps ever closer. I'm a zombie at 9a.m and my day is just beginning. All I can do is keep pushing towards the Muni bus station. Beside me my roommate, Cole, looks up from his phone.

"You alright, Broski?" He asks, "You've been acting… off today."

I'm not in the mood for his stupid pet names on a good day, let alone a day like this one.

"Don't call me Broski," I shoot back in annoyance "I didn't get any sleep last night. Or the night before. Got a lot on my mind."

"Oooh… a lot meaning that college friend who's back in town?" Cole wiggles his eyebrows at me.

At the mention of her my mind travels miles away. Dani. My friend throughout the entirety of college. My partner in all things mischief, my stand-in therapist when there was girlfriend drama, and the kick-in-the-ass I needed when things seemed impossible. Dani. Back in San Francisco. She's been here a few days already. I expected to hear from her by now. Nothing but silence.

"Mark? Mark!"

Cole pulls me aside before I collide with a pole. I blink and swallow hard before nodding at Cole in appreciation.

"You zoned out on me there… thinking about the one that got away?" Cole teases.

"She's not the one that got away!" I throw my hands up in exasperation.

Cole rolls is eyes.

"Man that is such bullshit! You only talk about the girl all the time. And you get this lovey-dovey look in your eyes that makes me wanna hurl-"

"Shut up," I retort, " Dani and I made some good memories together, that's all".

That's the wrong thing to say around someone like Cole: Someone with a devious and dirty mind. His eyebrows arch and I know I'm in for it. The onslaught or perversity.

"What kind of good times? Huh?" he asks, " Sock on the doorknob kind? Boot – knocking, hair-pulling, back-scratching good times?"

"Not just on the knob, Cole. On the shower handle, car door, picnic table, classroom door, library study rooms…"

I can't help the sarcasm. When he starts with me it flows freely. Cole stops dead in his tracks.

"Wait – for real?!" he says incredulously.

"No, not for real you idiot!"

"I dunno…it could've been real back then, " Cole considers for a moment, "maybe in her absence you turned into a prude".

"SHUT UP COLE!"

We walk for a moment in silence. Cole suppresses a smile, happy that he sufficiently got under my skin. When he speaks again, he does so in his quiet and suggestive voice.

"You know… you should invite her to the Double Tap for drinks," he suggests, "She could meet the gang. I'm sure she'd be happy to make new friends here."

"I dunno," I hesitantly mull over the idea, "I've got that work thing tonight, remember?"

"Whatever, Mark," Cole answers as he checks his email, "I wouldn't write the idea off entirely. For all you know, she's thinking of you right now."

*~Dani~*

"Thanks for coming with me, Felix".

I survive my first day of work with no further TJ encounters and manage to convince Felix to join me in a shopping adventure. I set up a date with Evan for the evening and need to dress for the occasion. Moving back was a quick process that provided no time to apartment hunt. I'm crashing with a cousin whose apartment is basically a shoebox. I'm grateful for the hospitality, but I'm living out of a small suitcase. Most of my stuff is in storage. Just another reason to partake in one of my favorite pasttimes.

"Oh no worries, " he assures me, "anytime in the name of research. Where are you going tonight?"

"Uh…some new club…Mystique, I think?"

Felix stops dead in his tracks and looks up at me in shock.

"That club is supposed to be legendary! It's nearly impossible to get into! I heard they have an ice luge for vodka shots and a taco bar! There's celebrity sightings all the time! Drake was there last weekend!" he gushes.

"You know who Drake is?" I joke.

"I prefer Coldplay and The Killers, but I do know who he is," Felix answers indignantly, "I mean, he's not so bad…"

His words fade away, however, because at that moment I see it. THE DRESS. Black and sequined. Plunging neckline, cutouts that wrap across the midriff. Sexy. Confident. Yet, still classy. When Felix realizes I'm no longer beside him, he joins me. When he follows my line of sight he understands. We have a nonverbal agreement on this one. Together we hunt it down on a rack and I head straight to the dressing room to try it on. As soon as I look in the mirror I'm in love. Just one final test to pass. I need to show Felix.

"WOW," is all he's capable of.

Wow is a sufficient answer. I skip back to the room and change. One pricey (but so worth it) purchase later I hug Felix and head back to the apartment. All that's left for me is a hot shower and a super makeup job. Though I remind myself that this is article research, I can't help but feel excitement. I look forward to the date, and to seeing how my city has changed.

Eight- thirty rolls around before I know it. I wait outside for Evan, adjusting my dress and religiously looking up and down the street. That's when a sleek, white sports car pulls up to the curb in front of me. Evan gets out of the driver's side, sporting his flannel shirt and jeans from this morning. His casual dress confuses me. If we're going to such a trendy, popular place I'd expect a little effort. Nevertheless, I flash him a smile and nods towards the car.

"Nice ride,"

Evan doesn't answer. Instead he looks at me from head to toe several times.

"You look stunning. I feel like you're showing me up!" he exclaims.

"Not in that ride," I joke. I can see it puts him at ease.

Evan opens the door and helps me in. On our way to the club he points out some newer shops and restaurants that opened in my absence. He expresses happiness at my immediate contact. I notice he wipes his hands on his jeans several times. Nervous. I assure him I am very excited for the evening ahead, and this seems to ease his anxiety.

The club is first noticeable by the size of the crowd out front. He pulls the car up to Valet, and a young man helps me out. Evan tosses him the keys and warns him to be careful. Then he offers me his arm and steers her towards the entrance. I instantly notice a thick sea of plaid and flannel that makes me suspicious.

"That's an awful lot of flannel…know these guys?"

"Actually yeah. We all work together at Zamble. We may all look the same, but I'm pretty sure no one has a date as hot as mine," Evan answers.

I don't process the compliment. I'm stuck on the first part. They're coworkers. All in attendance at the same time.

"Wait…Evan," I narrow my eyes, "is this a work function?"

Evan looks down at the ground and stuffs a hand in his pocket.

"Yes," he acknowledges, "Zamble rented the place for the evening. I had to be here but I didn't want to turn you down… I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone, you know?"

My first instinct is to be annoyed, but when I see his expression it fades away. I put a hand on his shoulder and give him the smallest of reprimands.

"If you're gonna take a girl to something like this you should warn her. It's cool this time, but next time try being up front".

"Yes ma'am" he answers.

We make our way to the entrance, at which the crowd of plaid stops and stares. I try hard to ignore it, but it makes me extremely self councious. I grip Evan's arm a little tighter until we enter the club. The moment I see it I completely understand its reputation - marble floors, garish chandeliers, excellent music, strobe lighting, and plush seating. BeforeEvan and I can even find a place to sit, another bouncer ushers us to the VIP lounge.

"This never happens to me, "Evan says excitedly, "Must be your dress. You look sexy as hell."

I thank him for the compliment and then take in our new accommodations. The rest of the club didn't hold a candle to the VIP lounge. Leather chairs, glass-topped tables that doubled as fish thanks. An acrobrat hanging from silk ropes…and…

"No way!" I shout in surprise.

"What?" Evan asks.

"There is a taco bar!"

"Yes there is, but we have tacos…we need drinks," Evan points out.

He flags down a nearby waitress and shortly after we are holding Tequila sunrises. We take the requisite time to talk. I am pleasantly surprised by the ease at which our conversation flows. It goes from work, to hobbies, to general tastes in entertainment. When our glasses are half empty and the music changes Evan perks up in his seat. He throws his hands in the air and turns to me.

"This is my jam!" he happily shouts, "Dance with me?"

I don't care for the song, but agree nonetheless. I love to dance and don't pass up many opportunities to do so. Evan takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. I step closer to him and wrap my arms around his neck. He puts his hands on my hips as I sway them back and forth.

"Where'd you learn to move like this?" he murmurs in my ear.

"I picked up a trick or two in New York," I tease with a wink.

To prove my point spin in his arms and press my back to his chest. He holds me closer; wraps his arms around my waist as we move to the beat.

That's when I hear it.

A familiar voice, the voice permanently recorded in my brain, calls out to me over the music.

It can't be, I think to myself with a dismissive shake of my head.

Initially, I keep dancing. I'm hearing things; probably because I thought of it most of afternoon. Yet, confirmation of reality comes fast. Through the crowd walks a tall, handsome man I haven't seen in years. The man whose picture hangs in my new cubicle. The man I've avoided since I came back. My heart jumps from my chest to my throat and I freeze. I say his name in pure shock.

"Mark?!"

"Dani?!"