Vince: Book Two of the Perfectly Independent Series

by Amanda Shelley

  “No problem.” His honesty is endearing.

  “Do you want to grab dinner near campus, or in town – closer to the venue?”

  “Let’s grab it near the venue—that way we won’t have to worry about traffic or anything. Even though Sunday should be good.”

  “I can drive—unless you’d rather,” he offers and for some reason, it matters that he’s letting me choose.

  “You can drive. I live in apartment 3B. It’s the first building on your right as you enter the complex. Upstairs and to the left.”

  “Sounds good. Are you working tonight?”

  Why does that mundane question make my heart race?

  “Yeah. I try to work most Friday and Saturday nights when I can. They’re the busiest, and I hate when it’s slow. It makes the time drag on, ya know?”

  “I can imagine.” There’s a loud noise in the background, and Vince muffles the phone the best he can. He must be some place public because I swear it sounds like a gaggle of kids ran by. “Hey, Syd? I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve gotta go. It’s hard to hear around here.”

  Before I can respond, the noise is back, and it makes me laugh. Where the hell is he? “No problem. Pick me up around four, and we’ll get to town in plenty of time before the concert.”

  “Sounds good,” he says. “I’ll be there.”

  With that, he ends the call, making me wish this day would pass a little faster.

  Unfortunately, it doesn’t.

  Even though I got called into work early, and we’re busy tonight, I can’t help but scan the crowd for Vince. It’s nearly eleven, and the way he’d asked me if I was working made it sound as if he might be stopping by.

  Maybe he was just making casual conversation, and I’m putting something into it that wasn’t there?

  But truth be told—every time I see someone who resembles him—my heart picks up a beat—and then my hopes are smashed when it’s not him.

  Jesus, Syd. Get over it. He’s not coming, and you have shit to do. I chastise myself and force my thoughts back to reality, just in time for a long line of people from the other side of the bar. I spend the next hour filling drinks and keeping the line to a minimum.

  When I notice the tall friend that came in with Vince on his birthday, I take a moment to scan the bar, hoping to see Vince. No such luck. My gut sinks when I realize the tall guy’s here with a date and no one else.

  Maybe after tomorrow, I should resume my dating diet if I’ve resorted to being a pre-teen waiting to see her first crush. I’m not cut out for shit like this, and I should probably stick with my original plan. Hopefully, tomorrow night will be a dud, and I can get him out of my mind once and for all.

  Crap. Why did I agree to a second date?

  Even though I came home and crashed shortly after three, I find myself tossing and turning early the next morning. Sundays are meant for sleeping in. There’s no reason I should know there’s two seven o’clocks in a day. Especially when my head just landed on the pillow mere hours before.

  I roll over for what feels like the millionth time, in a vain attempt for comfort.

  Fuck. It’s not working.

  Groaning, I toss back my covers and crawl out of bed. I pad to my bathroom and shower for the day. I may as well be productive if I can’t sleep. Within twenty minutes, I’m out in the kitchen, making breakfast. Well—a bagel and cream cheese anyway. Then I head out to the living room, where I’m surprised by Abby studying on the couch.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask as I sit in the chair beside her.

  “Drew’s asleep in my room, so I came out here to finish a paper. Then I can spend a guilt-free afternoon with him later. Sorry I can’t make it to the concert. Did you find someone to go with you?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say as I swat the air, shaking my head. “If today was Drew’s only night off before heading on the road for the tournament, I’d want to spend it with him as well.”

  Abby puts down the pen she’s been fiddling with and gives me her full attention. “You did find someone, right?” A pang of guilt flashes in her eyes.

  I put her out of her misery with ease. “Yeah, I got a friend from class to go with me.” I have no idea why I don’t tell her about Vince. But with waiting to see where she and Drew get into med school, and him heading into the tournament, she’s got enough on her plate. Besides, she likes Riser, but she’s been to their concerts before when they were just an up-and-coming band. Tonight’s concert is their final one of their tour, and the place will be packed. Abby will go to an arena to watch Drew play, now that she’s a fan—but big crowds aren’t really her thing.

  “That’s great. I felt so guilty leaving you high and dry. I know it’ll be a great concert.”

  “Yeah. You know I’d go to the concert solo if necessary, right? I won’t miss the chance to see Nick perform in person. I love his voice and could listen to it all night long,” I tease, even though I’m sure Vince beats him in the looks department. “I’ll be blessed with eye candy all night.”

  Abby smirks. “I’m sure that will be such a hardship.”

  She has no idea.

  “Yep,” I agree. When I finish my bagel, I stand to return my plate to the kitchen. “Well, I’ll let you finish your paper. I’m off to beat the crowds and get groceries. Need anything?”

  “I’m good. Thanks,” Abby says, but I can tell she’s already getting back to her paper. She’s tenacious about her studies.

  By the time I return from the store, Abby and Drew are nowhere to be found, so I have the apartment to myself. It isn’t even ten, and there’s way too much time before Vince will arrive. Having spent the better part of yesterday studying, I contemplate my choices to occupy my time.

  Binge-watch TV or bake?

  Yeah, that isn’t even an option. Pulling out the ingredients for cinnamon rolls and no-bake cookies, I set into baking.

  Eventually, I decide it’s finally acceptable to get ready. Looking around my now-clean kitchen, it’s obvious I’ve been stressing out. I’ve made way more than I intended. Not only have I made a double batch of cinnamon rolls, but I’ve also made no-bake cookies and a loaf of banana bread. My roommates will love the fruits from my nervous energy. And if all else fails, I know Drew and his roommates will enjoy them as well. His poor roommate Grey says he’ll take my day-old rolls any chance I’ll make them. The guy can’t cook for beans, but he knows how to eat.

  Knowing I have plenty of time, I make the effort to straighten my hair, apply just the perfect amount of makeup to make my green eyes pop, and change my outfit at least three times. God only knows why I’m suddenly nervous. I haven’t put this much effort into a date since going to my first formal as a freshman in high school. Usually, I just go with the ‘come as you are’ attitude, and they get what they get.

  I’ve settled on a pair of dark skinny jeans, my favorite ballet slippers, and a loose emerald-green sweater that falls off to one side of my shoulders. I have my jacket and purse waiting on the couch. When I’m sure he must be arriving soon, I finally allow myself to look at the clock.

  Shit. It’s only a quarter after three.

  My apartment’s spotless, it smells like Betty Crocker invaded, and I’m ready to go. What the hell do I do now?

  Should I make Vince a plate of baked goods?

  Or will that make me look too much like a housewife from the 1950s? No, I’ll never be Miss Suzy Homemaker. I’ve got the baking part down pat, but the thought of relying on someone else gives me hives.

  I have no idea how long I stand in the kitchen internally debating with myself, but knowing most can’t resist my yummy treats, I eventually break down, pull out a container, and load one up for Vince. Just finished, there’s a knock on my door.

  I quickly wipe my hands with the nearest towel, then find myself rushing to answer. The sight of Vince leaves me breathless. His hair’s perfectly tousled, the rich aroma of his sexy cologne replaces my hours of baking, and his hazel eyes tak
ing me in make him even more attractive. When a slow smile spreads across his perfect lips, it’s an automatic response to mirror him.

  When I finally remember my manners, I attempt to play off my blatant ogling. “Hey, Vince. Come on in.”

  “Wow, it smells amazing in here. What are you baking?”

  I shrug in an attempt to play it off. “I was done studying, and my roommates are gone, so I’ve got cinnamon rolls and no-bake cookies, if you’re interested.”

  “Are you kidding? I’d give my left kidney for something that smells this delicious.” Just then, his stomach rumbles, and we both burst out laughing.

  “Well, I’ve made you a container, but as you’re obviously going to die on the spot if you don’t get one now—let me dish you up a plate.”

  He follows me to the kitchen and when he spots my efforts of today, his eyes widen. “You made all this… today?” The way his hand sweeps the counter in a grand gesture is almost comical.

  Tucking my chin, so I don’t have to look him in the eye, I play off, “Yep. When I’m bored, I bake.”

  “For the record, I’ll gladly consume your boredom anytime you’re willing to share. This is unbelievable, may I?” He gestures to a no-bake cookie still on the waxed paper as they weren’t quite done hardening yet.

  “Go right ahead. But be warned, they’re likely to fall apart.”

  He carefully picks up the breaking cookie and brings it to his mouth. The groan he lets out as the chocolate hits his mouth sends shivers throughout my entire body.

  How the hell can watching a guy eat a cookie be a turn-on? Clearly—I’m losing my mind.

  When he finishes, and I get myself under control, I offer, “There’s a container with your name on it, if you’d like to take some to go.”

  “Are you kidding? These are freaking fantastic. I haven’t had these since I was a kid.” He’s quiet for a moment as he stares at the counter, but just when I’m about to ask him about it, he shakes his head and pushes the rest of the cookie into his mouth. When his eyes meet mine, I’m sure I just imagined the entire thing. Weird.

  “Are you ready?” he asks as he turns to wash his hands and dry them off with the towel I’d left on the sink.

  “Yeah, just let me grab my coat and purse.” As I head out of the kitchen to grab my things from my room, I stop at the entry. “The blue container is yours. If you return it, I might be persuaded to refill it for you.”

  Seriously? I just offered to bake more for him?

  Before he can answer, I leave the room and walk away from my humiliation. Why in the hell did I make it sound so suggestive? I’m supposed to keep it to one date, not offering up more. Geez, Syd, get it together.

  By the time I return, Vince waits in the living room with his baked goods in hand and a genuine smile on his face. His hazel eyes drink me in, and I’ll admit, my heart rate spikes in his obvious approval.

  Grabbing the door for us, he asks, “Shall we?”

  Once outside, Vince leads me to a newer model black Jeep. I’m thankful I wore jeans as it is slightly lifted and may have proven difficult to enter in a skirt. I’m thankful when I notice a bar to step on, so I won’t have to look like a beached whale as I attempt to get in the thing. Of course, Vince is right there and even with one hand, making sure I get in okay.

  As he walks to the driver’s side of the Jeep, I notice that Vince is either a neat freak, or he’s cleaned it up for tonight. Either way, I’m nervous for him to see my car; it needs to be dusted and vacuumed desperately. I make a mental note to drive my car through a car wash this week.

  When the engine roars to life, Vince turns to ask, “So, have you decided on where you want to grab dinner?”

  “Not really. Why don’t we see if something stands out along the way? I’m game for anything.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  6

  Vince

  From the moment I’ve picked up Sydney, I’ve been enamored by her. Not only can she bake, but the more I learn about her, the more I like. She’s smart, funny, and full of life. Even when she’s telling me about drunken patrons, she’s so vibrant in the way she describes them. I can’t help but wish I’d seen it in person for myself.

  When Sydney suggests getting off the freeway a few exits before the venue, I know just where to take her. “Are you interested in Thai?”

  “Sure. Sounds great,” she replies eagerly.

  I quickly parallel park in a spot on the same block as the restaurant. As soon as I know it’s clear, I hop out of the car and rush to her side just as she opens the door for herself. Damn. I need to be quicker.

  I do manage to hold my hand out to hers to assist her down. The moment our skin touches, electricity crackles all around us. The air is charged as I close the door behind her. Not wanting to let go just yet, I keep a hold of her hand as we walk down the block toward the restaurant. The way our fingers naturally intertwine, it’s as if we’ve been doing this for years, rather than for our first date.

  Sydney’s quiet as we wait to be seated. I can see the wheels turning in her head, and I’d give almost anything to know what she’s thinking. When she rolls her bottom lip into her mouth to chew on it, I can’t take it any longer. Leaning in, I whisper, “Penny for your thoughts?”

  When her eyes meet mine, they’re dancing with mischief. “Quarter for your underwear?” rolls off her tongue with ease.

  What?

  Did she really just say that?

  She rolls her beautiful green eyes as she giggles. “Ohmigod, Vince. I’m kidding. You should’ve seen the look on your face. Seriously. I was just trying to break the ice—obviously, it was stupid. I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head then shrugs. “I’m sometimes a smartass when I get nervous, and I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

  I replay her explanation in my head to make sure I heard it right. The minute she started talking about underwear, my mind went right into the gutter. But what hits home is that she’s nervous. From all my interactions with her—I didn’t think she had a nervous bone in her body. Hmmm—she’s always so confident. So, I gotta know. “What’s making you nervous?”

  “You are.”

  “Me? What have I done to make you nervous?” I rack my brain thinking about my actions. But I come up blank.

  She bites her bottom lip as she looks to the floor. But I wait her out and eventually, the strong woman I’ve been attracted to from the beginning looks me boldly in the eye as she shrugs. “I have no idea. I just got nervous for some reason.”

  “Well…” I draw out slowly, wondering how to go back to the comfortable and carefree girl from before. My eyes go to our locked hands, and my thoughts are said aloud, “Does holding my hand make you nervous?” I start pulling away, but she tightens her grip.

  “No—it’s not that. I’m just being stupid. Trust me. I like holding your hand. Please… forget I said anything.” The hostess tells us our table is ready, and Sydney refuses to let go of my hand as we follow her to our table. Unfortunately, I have to let go to pull out her chair, then go around to my side of the table.

  Without saying anything, she reaches her hand across the table. When I return the gesture by placing mine in hers, she squeezes reassuringly. “Sorry, Vince. I’m having a great time. Please don’t let me being a smartass ruin our evening.”

  Wanting to put things at ease as well as to speak from the heart, I find myself saying, “I love that you say what’s on your mind. Please—never hold back. I’d rather know what you’re thinking—even if it is about my underwear.”

  This has its desired effect.

  She blushes the most beautiful shade of red, and her freckles stand out against her skin in contrast. “I’ll have you know I’m a boxer-brief guy… if that makes it easier.”

  What the actual fuck? Why did I just say that?

  “Good to know.” She lets go of my hand to pick up a menu. “Have you been here before?”

  “Only once, but I remember the peanut sauce being the bes
t I’ve ever had. So, it’ll definitely be part of my order.”

  “Ohhhh… that sounds great. I’ll do the same.”

  Okay, let’s hope this awkwardness is behind us.

  Though now that she’s mentioned underwear, I’m curious as to what she’s wearing under her perfectly fitting jeans.

  Thankfully, Sydney’s nerves disperse, and the rest of dinner goes off without a hitch. By the time we get to the concert, there’s plenty of time to walk around. Knowing things will be sold out later, she opts to buy a vintage-looking t-shirt of the band Riser, and I pick up a different version for myself to remember the occasion. Normally, I don’t buy anything at concerts, but rumor has it this might be the last time they’re on tour for a while. Even though they’re a local band, it’s been said the lead singer wants to take some time off to be with his family. I can’t say I blame him. Family is everything.

  When Sydney leads us to our seats, I’m shocked. “Wow! How did you score these seats?” I ask as we make our way down the middle of the third row back from the stage.

  “Oh, I won them from a contest on campus. So, don’t worry about repaying me.”

  “Seriously? That’s pretty cool. It must’ve been one hell of a competition.”

  Sydney shrugs. “A drawing, really. Never thought I had a chance, but as luck would have it, here we are. I don’t think I’ve ever won anything in my life. These are some freaking amazing seats.”

  “They sure are,” I say, sitting beside her. Though, being this close to the stage, I’m fairly certain we’ll stand the entire concert. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to a stage in my life.”

  “Me neither, unless you count being in a small bar or something, and the dance floor is close to the stage. But never in a venue this large. I’ve been pumped since I got them.”

  “No kidding—I’m surprised your friends didn’t want to come.”

  “They’ve seen Riser before. Besides, Chloe’s priorities should be her grandma… and well, if you ever meet Abby, you’ll see that she doesn’t mess around when it comes to school. She’s managed to graduate a year early and be accepted to a few med schools. She’s still holding out for her top choice, but with her focus, I’m sure everything will work out.”