How to Hack a Heartbreak Page 9

  Then I saw him standing in the doorway, backlit, curls fluttering in the breeze, looking like a well-dressed demigod.

  He was here. Alex hadn’t disappointed me.

  Yet.

  10

  The look in his eyes made me feel more beautiful than any overpriced face mask ever could. It was sultry and hungry and a little dazed. Like perhaps he’d developed a sudden urge to whisk me off to the bedroom.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he said.

  “Thanks.” I tingled all over.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. The subway on the weekend, you know? It’s always a disaster.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, totally relaxed, as if I hadn’t been on the verge of a meltdown thirty seconds ago. “Let me introduce you to my friends.”

  Pointing to them in turn, I said, “This is Whitney, Lia, and Dani.”

  He smiled and shook each of their hands. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  Whit gestured to the bottle he was holding. “Is that Moët?”

  “Yeah. I hope it’s okay.”

  “Uh, it’s better than okay.” She chugged the remainder of her pink sangria and said, “Let’s pop that bad boy open.”

  “Sure thing.”

  As he untangled the gold foil and wire cage, I stole a quick glance at my friends, checking to see their initial reactions. Dani shot me a discreet thumbs-up, mouthing, “He’s cute.” Whit impatiently eyed the champagne, while Lia stared off into the distance.

  The bottle popped open with a thwop and white foam bubbled up and over the neck. He filled our glasses to the rim, then grabbed an empty mason jar from the bar and poured one for himself.

  “Cheers, everyone,” he said, then looked me in the eyes. “To new friends.”

  “Cheers.” We echoed, clinking glasses and taking our first fizzy sips.

  Alex surveyed the surroundings. “This place looks great. The lights, the food, the fire pit. Did you do all this, Mel?”

  “No, I didn’t do anything. This was all my roommate, Vanessa.”

  “Is she a party planner or something?”

  I shook my head. “She’s a virtual assistant.”

  “Well, there’s a lot of planning involved in that line of work, I guess.” He turned to the girls. “What about you all? What do you do for a living?”

  Lia went first. “I’m a graphic designer at the Golden Group.”

  “Wow, the Golden Group is a big deal. Good on you for scoring that gig.”

  “Thanks,” she said, visibly warming to his words. “It’s kind of a dream job.”

  “I bet.” Next, he turned to Dani. “And you?”

  “I’m pursuing my PhD in Sociology at The New School.”

  He addressed me with laughter in his voice. “I didn’t realize your friends were all geniuses.”

  Dani blushed a little. “I wouldn’t call myself a genius, but I’m certainly no slouch.”

  Finally, he flashed that dazzling smile over to Whit. “And what about you?”

  Instead of answering his question, she flipped it back on him. “Aren’t you a Hatchling?”

  “Um...” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, thrown by the sudden change in conversational direction. “Yeah. I am.”

  “You’re not one of those assholes that gives Mel a hard time all day, are you?”

  “Whitney!” I hissed, “Of course he isn’t.”

  “Well, you’re always saying the Hatchlings are such dicks to you.”

  Alex winced. This was so awkward. I wanted to crawl under the snack table with a pitcher of sangria and that entire tray of marshmallows.

  “Obviously, Alex is different,” I said. “Why would I invite someone here who wasn’t nice to me?”

  “Look, it’s okay,” he said, his voice steady and gentle. “I get it, Whitney. Melanie’s your friend, and you’re worried about her. Men can be manipulative jerks, I see that at work every day. I try my best not to be one of them.”

  “You’re not,” I said, shooting a meaningful look at Whit.

  He licked his lips and continued, “For what it’s worth, I don’t enjoy being around the other Hatchlings, either. Like I told Mel, sometimes it feels like I’m working in a frat house. And if it’s that uncomfortable for me, I can’t even imagine how uncomfortable it must be for her, one of the only women in the office.”

  For once, Whitney didn’t interject with a snarky comment. My friends were rapt, all eyes trained on Alex as he reached for my hand, linked his fingers through mine, and said, “Honestly, Mel makes being at Hatch way more bearable. I used to dread going to work in the mornings but now...” He swung his gaze over to me. “Just knowing I’ll get to spend a few minutes with her is reason enough for me to get out of bed.”

  Oh, he was good. Even Whitney looked impressed, which was a feat, considering she enjoyed shredding arguments like a slow-cooked pork shoulder.

  “That’s beautiful,” Lia said, her voice warbly and threatening to crack. Dani and I exchanged a brief, troubled look.

  “You okay?” Dani asked.

  Lia nodded. “Yeah. That was just a really nice thing to say, Alex. Mel means a lot to us and I’m glad to see there’s someone else looking out for her.” With a sniffle, she added, “I could use some more champagne.”

  “Of course,” he said, and quickly refilled her cup.

  With my friends sufficiently charmed, the tension dissipated, and the conversation flowed. Alex asked thoughtful questions and listened attentively to their answers. He established eye contact and laughed at their jokes, replenishing drinks whenever they were needed. The whole time, he held tight to my hand. My fingers quivered.

  Could he have been any more perfect?

  Just as I started to float away on a cloud of pure joy, I heard it. It was faint and low quality, but I’d recognize those auto-tuned lyrics anywhere. Some asshole behind me was playing the “#DickInTheDark Remix” on his phone.

  Alex didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy having a lively chat with the girls. But all I could hear was my digitally processed voice singing, “rubbing his dick against my backside,” over and over again.

  The more I tried to block it out, the louder it seemed to get. It might as well have been playing over the speaker system. The girls didn’t acknowledge it, though, and I certainly didn’t feel like telling Alex the whole backstory of how I became a Twitter hashtag. I put on my best poker face and pretended like I was engrossed in our conversation, completely oblivious to these people behind me who were laughing at one of my most humiliating moments.

  Finally, the video ended. I could breathe again! But no sooner had I filled my lungs with oxygen than this guy pressed the replay button and listened to the whole damn thing a second time.

  “Honestly,” Whit said, a little too loudly, “can this guy turn off his fucking phone?”

  Anxious not to cause a scene, I shushed her. “Don’t start, please.”

  “Well, it’s ridiculous.”

  “Yeah, I agree,” Alex said. “I don’t understand what people find so funny about this whole thing.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “You’ve seen that video?”

  “Not the original one, just the remix. Someone was playing it at work the other day.”

  No surprise there. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have been surprised if some of the Hatchlings had been responsible for spreading a few of those memes.

  Again, the video ended. And again, the guy pressed Replay.

  “For fuck’s sake!” Whit whipped around and grabbed the phone out of the guy’s hand, jabbing the stop button with one lacquered nail. “Enough with this shit.”

  Oh, God. My desire to hide out under the snack table returned with a vengeance. I shielded my face with one hand. Not because I was afraid someone might recognize me, but be
cause Whit was about to start a brawl in a place with a million cell phones, and I did not want to wind up in another viral video.

  Surprisingly, though, the guy behind us backed off. He huffed out an uninspired “Whatever,” and meandered over to the other side of the roof.

  Lia patted my shoulder blade. “You okay?”

  “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I was smiling, putting on an act for Alex, hoping to avoid this particular topic of conversation. Or, at the very least, postpone it until our second date.

  But he was annoyingly perceptive. “That video bothers you.”

  “Yes.” I nodded, grasping for an excuse. “It’s very bothersome.”

  “It is.” His face was serious, a storm brewing above his brow. “I can’t believe the amount of shit women have to put up with from men all the time. You’re constantly harassed, from all angles. At work, on the street, on the subway.”

  “Amen,” Whitney said.

  “Don’t forget the internet,” Dani added.

  “Is it that bad on the internet?” he asked, causing us to burst out in peals of laughter.

  “Yes,” I said. “On Fluttr, in particular.”

  “How? Like what do guys do that’s so bad?”

  “I got two words for you, Alex.” Whit counted off her fingers. “Dick. Pic.”

  “Yeah, but that can’t happen very often, right? Like, every once in a while some weirdo sends you one and then you report him and he gets thrown off Fluttr, right?”

  “I get at least one a day,” Whit said. “Sometimes two. Sometimes more.”

  “And reporting them is pointless,” I added. “Those messages probably go to some unmanned mailbox that’s never read.”

  “Whoa.” He looked shell-shocked. The reality of being a woman had blown his mind. “Why does any woman ever use Fluttr, then?”

  “Because there are good guys on there,” Lia said. “It’s how I met my boyfriend.” Suddenly, her face drooped, and she pulled out her phone. “Speaking of which, I should probably call him to see where he’s at.”

  She wandered away, toward an empty corner of the roof. We watched her in silence as she tapped at her phone screen, held it to her ear, and slowly lowered it again.

  “Whether her boyfriend’s a good guy remains to be seen,” Whit said.

  “I don’t understand why you’ve never liked him,” Dani said.

  “How could I like him or not like him? I’ve never met him. If it wasn’t for all those photos she posts on Instagram, I’d question his very existence. She doesn’t even tag him so who knows what his deal is.”

  “Supposedly, he has to keep a low profile on social media because of his job.”

  Whit sniffed. “Sounds like bullshit to me.”

  “Okay, but regardless, there definitely are some good guys on Fluttr.” I turned to Alex. “I mean, you’re on there, right?”

  “I was on there.”

  “Oh,” I squeaked.

  What did he mean by that? At lunch the other day, he’d talked about deleting his profile. I thought it was a joke, but maybe he was serious.

  Or maybe...

  No, there was no way he deleted his profile because of me.

  Was there?

  While I internally obsessed over the reason for his Fluttr hiatus, the conversation continued around me.

  “I think what Mel is trying to say is that the good guys are few and far between,” Dani said.

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “So every time you right-swipe,” he said, “you just have to cross your fingers and hope that you’re not gonna get a dick pic?”

  “Pretty much.” I smiled, feeling saucy from all that champagne. “But there’s this new website out there that’s trying to help women avoid matching with losers.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I could hardly contain my excitement. “Remember the other day, when you told me the right opportunities are the ones you create yourself? Well, I kind of took that to heart.”

  “No!” Whit cried. Champagne flew from her cup, soaking the front of Alex’s crisp blue shirt.

  The rest of us gasped.

  “Oh my God,” Dani said.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “What happened?”

  “I’m fine,” Whit said. “I’m fine. I thought I saw some stalker I used to hook up with but I was wrong. I’m so sorry about your shirt.”

  “No worries,” Alex said, glancing down at his chest in dismay. “Shit happens.”

  “You can wash up in my bathroom,” I said. “I’ll show you where it is.”

  “He can find it himself,” Whit said briskly.

  “That’s okay,” he said. “It’s just a little spill. Let me grab some napkins—I’ll be right back.”

  Alex threaded his way through the crowd, careful to avoid getting anyone wet. When he was out of earshot, I whipped my head around and glared at Whit. “What the hell was that?”

  “You cannot tell him about JerkAlert.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re keeping your identity a secret, remember?”

  “I’m keeping it a secret from the general public. Not from the guy that I’m dating.”

  “This is only your first date.”

  “Technically, it’s our second.” If you counted that lunch we’d had Monday as a date. Which I was.

  “The point is, you’re not serious with him yet, right? You’re still getting to know him. Who knows if he’s trustworthy or not? He could ghost on you next week and spill the beans.”

  “He can’t exactly ghost,” I said. “We work together. We’ll run into each other all the time.”

  “Even more of a reason to keep your mouth shut. You don’t want the other Hatchlings to find out you’re doing this, do you? I’m sure half those assholes are already logged on JerkAlert. If they know you’re the one who runs it, they’ll make your life even more miserable than they do now.”

  She had a point. Did I really want to go into work every day with a bunch of guys who had a vendetta against me?

  Still, I could never imagine Alex ratting me out. Not to the Hatchlings. He couldn’t stand them. “But he’s so different.”

  “I have to agree,” Dani said. “He seems really wonderful.”

  “Look,” Whit said, “if things get serious between you two, then you can tell him. For now, keep it quiet. Besides, I have this really great idea for getting the JerkAlert name out there. And I think you’ve got the potential to blow up, big-time.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, if you play your cards right.”

  Blowing up big-time meant I’d never have to deal with the Hatchlings again. I’d never have to fix another broken computer, or smile my way through a barrage of insults. I’d run my own business. I’d be in charge.

  Just then, Alex returned, wiping his shirt with a stack of pink cocktail napkins.

  “Is it okay?” I asked. “I’m sure we’ve got some stain remover lying around somewhere if you need it.”

  “Nah, I’m good.” He wadded the napkins in his hand and looked from me to Whit to Dani and back again. “So, what were we talking about?”

  “Um...” I bit my lip, pretending to think.

  “Wait,” he said, “we were talking about Fluttr, and then you said something about creating opportunities.”

  Scrunching up my face, I stared at the sky, as if I was searching for the answer up there in the blackness. In reality, I was desperately trying to avoid eye contact, lest Alex see right through my ruse. Finally, I shrugged. “You know, I can’t remember. It mustn’t have been that important if I forgot so easily.”

  Thankfully, Lia returned, distracting us all with her ruddy cheeks and watery eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I said, knowing full well what was likely to be w
rong.

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just...Jay’s not coming.”

  “Wow. He’s still working?” I stole a glimpse at my phone. “It’s almost ten o’clock.”

  Her lower lip trembled, and I knew I’d said the wrong thing.

  “I’m gonna head out,” she said.

  We all groaned in disappointment.

  “Don’t leave just because he’s not coming,” Whit said. “Stay and have a good time with us.”

  She sniffled and said, “No, I’m really tired. I should go.”

  “You know what,” Dani said, “I’m gonna go, too. Lemme walk to the train with you.”

  Lia didn’t protest. They put their mason jars down on the nearest table and we said our goodbyes. As Dani leaned in for a hug, she whispered, “I’ll see if she wants to talk about it.”

  “You’re a good friend,” I said. “Thanks for coming.”

  After they left, Whit said, “Well, that seals it. Jay is officially on my shit list.”

  “As if he wasn’t already.”

  “Fifty bucks says he bails on Cabo.”

  “Ugh, I don’t even want to think about that.”

  “I’ll fucking destroy him if he does.”

  Alex gave a nervous little laugh. “Man, I hope you never put me on your shit list.”

  Whit fixed him with a savage stare, her eyes two poison arrows pulled taut against their bows. “Don’t give me a reason to.”

  With that, she sauntered away, leaving Alex to gawk in her wake.

  “Don’t mind her,” I said. “She’s prickly.”

  He gulped, and I grabbed his hand, eager to end all the drama and have some fun. The music had kicked up, and I was feeling that sangria. A makeshift dance floor had formed in the center of the roof. “Come on,” I said, pulling him toward the crowd of people bobbing and swaying.

  We started off innocently, keeping a respectful distance between our bodies as we sidestepped to the beat. Eventually, he reached out, pulling me closer, little by little, until we were pressed together. His hands went to my waist, my hips, to the small of my back. My fingers sank into the lush tangle of curls at the nape of his neck. Our lips were mere inches apart. I could taste the champagne on his breath.