Zombie Ink

Trick: Chapter 1

TRICK: CHAPTER ONE

BREE

I didn't want to get back into online dating. I'd closed my profile down months ago for a very good reason. All the guys I'd been matched with were fuck boys. They said all the right things via message, made me think that they were actually interested in more than what was between my legs, but when it came down to it, none of them wanted anything more than a quick fuck before ghosting me. I get it. The need for mindless fun, some easy sex with no ties. I'd done it a time or five myself. But that wasn't what I wanted these days. I want something a little more fulfilling. I'm not talking a ring on my finger and a bun in the oven by the time the year's out, just someone I can spend time with… outside the bedroom… and for a sustained length of time. Actually get to know them, not just how big their dick is.

But… it turns out that guys outside of internet dating didn't really exist. Or at least not in my world. The guys on campus didn't really make me look twice, and I refuse to even consider the possibility of dating someone from work. That's a huge no in my book.

I blow out a breath and stare at myself as I lower my straightener. My hands tremble slightly at what tonight might hold for me.

James has been nothing but incredible over chat, but I'm not naive enough to think it's going to be that simple. It can't be. Nothing ever is.

I take a sip of my wine before letting another layer of my hair down and continuing to straighten it within an inch of its life.

I finished work early to ensure I'd be ready, but in my excitement I'm now well ahead of time, and I'm worried that if I stop, I'll overthink everything and cancel. My previous experiences will scare me off when I really want to meet this guy.

I don't want to say that he seems perfect, because I just know that'll jinx something, but… he really does.

He makes an effort to ask about my job like he really cares. He checks on my family, despite him not having a clue who any of them are, and he seems to share my hopes and dreams for the future. Of course, all of that could be total bullshit, a little voice in my head says.

Pushing the thought away, I continue with the task at hand and try my hardest not to drink too much as my nerves begin to get the better of me.

By the time I leave my apartment, I'm two glasses down and things are just a tad fuzzy.

It'll be fine. Open the window in the Uber and you'll be right as rain when you pull up to the restaurant, I tell myself.

I fidget with the clasp on my purse as the car stops and starts in the evening traffic. It only increases my nerves as I look at the time and realize that, after almost being ready too early, I'm now probably going to be late.

We're only two minutes out when my phone vibrates. I'm tempted to ignore it, not wanting a distraction before this date, but needing something to do aside from breaking my purse, I pull it out.

His name illuminates my screen, and my stomach drops. Please, for the love of god, don't cancel.

With trepidation, I swipe the screen. I hold my breath as the app opens, trying to tell myself that I'm prepared for the rejection I'm about to read. I'd like to say it won't sting, but I'd be lying. While the realistic side of me has been trying to prevail, my inner romantic can't help swooning every time this guy says something so perfect.

JAMES: I need to tell you something before we meet.

My heart pounds as I read the words for a second time. Okay, so he's not ditching me at the final hurdle. I guess that's a good sign. Right?

I stare down at his words. Fuck. I knew this was too good to be true. No guy can be that good-looking, have his body fill out a suit quite like he does, and have the perfect words every single time. It's just not possible. That guy who mostly lives in my dreams… he doesn't exist.

I'm still considering my options when the car pulls to a stop. I look out of the window and find the restaurant I chose for tonight staring back at me.

The temperature in the car seems to have risen all of a sudden, and my need for fresh air gets the better of me.

Before I think better of it, I shoot back a reply.

BREE: I'm outside. I guess I'm about to find out in person.

My stomach turns over as possibilities of what he needs to tell me run through my mind. I've had so many bad dates over the years that I'm sure it'll be nothing new. What if he's a woman? Or one half of a couple hoping for a good night? Or married?!

I shake the thoughts from my head, thank my driver, and step from the car. Dropping my phone back into my purse, I slide it over my shoulder and wrap one slightly clammy hand around the strap as I hesitantly head for the entrance.

He told me that he'd wait for me at the bar, so the second I step inside, my eyes scan all the people standing along the length of it.

I don't find him. I tell myself that it's busy, and I'm panicking as I step forward.

I don't hear any noise from the restaurant as my blood races past my ears and my stomach churns. I'm about halfway across the space when a guy steps from the bar in my direction. I dismiss him the second my eyes land on him, because he's wearing ripped jeans, a shirt that's open at the neck and has the arms rolled up, exposing tattoos on every bit of visible skin, and he's sporting a similar shade of green hair as my brother Zed has been rocking lately.

I continue walking, my eyes scanning all the bodies, but no one seems to be looking for anyone. None are recognizable in any way.

I take one more step but am forced to stop when the green-haired, tattooed guy gets in my way.

"I'm sorry, I…" I look up at his face, and my words falter. His eyes. They're the same hypnotizing eyes I've been looking into online for weeks. But the rest of him? I shake my head. No, it can't be him.

"Hey," he says nervously as he stares down into my eyes. It's almost like he's willing me not to freak out, but as reality hits me, that's exactly what I want to do.

"You've got to be fucking shitting me." My voice is an octave too high to be in the middle of a restaurant. I feel everyone's attention turning my way, but I don't pay them any attention. My angry, betrayed eyes stay firmly on his.

James Bonzo. Or at least that's what he told me his name was. But looking at him right now, I see that the man he was claiming to be doesn't exist. He's not the suave investment broker with the perfectly styled dark hair, five o'clock shadow, and designer suit. He's just… he's just a tattooed bad boy who will promise to break your bed, and inadvertently, your heart too. There's a reason I stay away from those types. I've been burned one too many times for a return visit, thank you very much.

"Bree… please… just let me explain." His voice is quiet, almost pleading, but I don't care. He tricked me. He promised me time and time again that the person I was talking to was real. Yet here he stands, looking nothing like his profile picture. Well, aside from his eyes, and his cheekbones, and his lips…

Who is this guy?

"I'm leaving." I turn, but his warm fingers wrap around my wrist before I can take a step. My heart aches, but it's stupidity that reigns. How could I have been so naive to believe all his bullshit? "Get the hell away from me. I should have listened to your warning message and never stepped inside this place. Everything I thought I knew about you, you've just ruined. Goodbye, James."