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He didn’t even want me to hang around and wait for him.

You’re such a fucking idiot, Garrett Wentworth. What did you really think was going to happen when you made your excuses and ran out of that club like your ass was on fire?

For the first time since I walked away from him, I think of Darcy.

Fuck. I really am an asshole.

Sure, our last couple of dates might not have been as I was hoping, but that doesn’t mean he deserves for me to run out on him in favor of hooking up with someone else.

Double-checking that my cell, keys, and wallet are still in my pants pocket where I left them, I glance back up the stairs just in case he’s changed his mind and is up there ready to invite me back to his bed.

But when my eyes get to the top of the stairs, I find exactly what I was expecting.

Nothing.

With a sigh, a bucket load of regrets, and desire still racing through my veins, I make my way toward the front door.

It’s not until I’m outside that I pull my cell free and order a car.

Thankfully, my driver is only three minutes away. I’m sure Nash would prefer I don’t loiter outside his house for longer than necessary.

I would walk a little, but suddenly, I’m exhausted. I just want to get home and crawl into bed so I can lick my wounds.

I barely say a word on the entire journey home despite the fact that my driver is the world’s chattiest man.

Usually, I’d be all over that. I love learning about people's lives and figuring out what makes them tick. Even Uber drivers that I’ll never see again.

But tonight, my lips stay firmly shut.

Tonight was everything. Until it wasn’t.

A heavy sigh spills from my lips when a familiar building comes into view.

It’s not home. Not really.

I’m just warming my sister’s guest bed until I can figure my shit out.

Right now, though, everything feels messier than I’ve ever known.

I’ve always had a plan. I knew exactly what I wanted to do at college. I told my parents that I was going to be a mathematics and statistics major since my junior year of high school. There was no other option than spending four years at UCLA. New York was always the plan too. I had a couple of backup plans, just in case. But I’ve always wanted to live on the East Coast. I had all these images in my head of what it would be like.

College might have happened as planned; I might even have secured the job and shifted my entire life across the country. But that’s where everything came crashing down.

It wasn’t even the place or the job that ruined it all for me really; it was my boss.

My homophobic asshole of a boss.

Had he shown his true colors during my interview, I never would have accepted the position.

I told myself that it would get better. That he would get to know me, see how hard I worked, and he’d be able to look past my preferences.

But it never happened. In reality, it got worse.

I was overlooked constantly and belittled multiple times a day. It was like I was a second-class citizen just because I didn’t jerk off to the idea of sliding inside a supermodel’s pussy. I truly thought we’d moved on from all that bullshit. Especially in a city as diverse as New York.

I guess there are close-minded cunts everywhere.

I’m trying really hard not to regret upheaving my entire life for a dream. I keep telling myself that it could have worked out, although deep down, I know it never would. My heart is in LA. No matter how good New York turned out to be, I think a part of me would always want to be back here.