Heart Broken (Game of Hearts Series Book 1) Read online

“I really don’t think that you are,” I said as I begun to stand.

  “Well, did you at least find someone from the program?”

  Seriously? We were back to that again?

  “Not really. I mean, they all seemed really nice and all, but there was no one I could really connect with online. I guess I’ll have to meet them in person and see.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone,” he said unconvincingly.

  “Doesn’t matter either way. And I best be going. I’d like to work on this stain before it sets, and get the shirt back to you as soon as I can. I’m sure you’ll be missing it, since it’s your favorite.”

  I looked around and tried to find the quickest way out of there as Roger narrowed his gaze at me, following my every move. I was almost to the point where I was about to leave when he finally spoke.

  “It really is my favorite shirt, but you don’t have to hurry. In fact, you really don’t have to try to get the stain out. I could take it to the cleaners, and let them remove it.”

  My next words come out harsher than I intend, but I wanted to reply before he could change his mind.

  “Since I’m the one that put the stain there, I think I should at least try to get it off.”

  He had the good grace to not enjoy my discomfort too much.

  Fabulous, now he didn’t believe I had got enough fortitude to remove a stain! I was just about ready to throw the damn shirt at him when he continued.

  “You have my number, so just call me when it’s done and we’ll meet here for the exchange.”

  He had taken the last swig of his coffee and was carrying his mug up to the counter when I realized the meaning of his words.

  “Exchange?”

  Perplexed, I turned to him. Huh? Now I was truly lost. What exchange?

  “Well, I’ll want to hear all about how my program is working for you, even if you don’t find someone that interests you. It’s a chance to see it from a different point of view, too, which is good. And then I’ll exchange information for my freshly laundered shirt. Stain-free, God willing. Deal?”

  Was he kidding?

  “Okay, it’s a deal,” I said a little too quickly as I turned to run out the door.

  Then I realized that he was right next to me.

  Walking out together, we said our goodbyes, with Roger soon back on his phone as he walked toward the main hall. He was probably off to work more on the program. Unable to help myself, I looked back and watched him leave.

  I was in the process of admiring his backside when he turned back to see me gawking at him. I swiftly turned away, pretending to be looking somewhere else. When I looked back toward him again, he was laughing hard enough that I could see him from where I stood. His body shook from his amusement.

  He’s really too good-looking for his own good, was the last thought I had as I hurried quickly back to my place.

  ***

  It took only a few hours to get the stain out of Roger’s shirt, and the illusion that we might be more than passing strangers would be coming to an end once he got it back. After a day, I finally resolved myself to the inevitable and made the call letting him know his shirt was ready.

  We’d decided to meet at the same place the nightmare had begun—the coffee shop. Early the next morning, I tossed the shirt in my backpack, grabbed my purse and hurried to make the exchange. I was more than ready to get this encounter over with. Luckily enough—or unluckily enough—I didn’t have to work today, so that meant that there was no hurry to part ways as soon as possible. It was going to be up to him as to how long we would be together, and I found myself curious as to what he would decide.

  With my stomach churning uncontrollably and my hands sweating like crazy, I made my way inside the shop, only to find him in the same place we had sat several days ago. I had no idea how long he had waited for me to arrive, but I figured that since he had left me for over an hour when he went home to change his shirt, any time he had had to wait for me was well worth it as payback. As I approached the table, I noticed another cup sitting there. Realizing he must have company, I cautiously made my way over, trying not to inconvenience the other person that might be with him.

  Handing over the shirt would be such a big relief that I found myself anxious just to get this exchange over with. Over the past several days, I’d moped around like a lovesick idiot, realizing that this would most likely be the end of a relationship that had never existed in the first place. To say that we had chemistry was an understatement as far as I was concerned, but the truth was, I had no idea about his intentions—other than to get his favorite shirt back, of course.

  “Iced mocha latte with shot of espresso, please,” I told the barista as I sidetracked toward the counter instead of meeting him at his table.

  “Now that’ll definitely keep you up for days, and to think I felt guilty over the four coffees you ingested waiting for my return the other day!”

  Looking just as provocative as he had days ago, Roger handed the cashier money for my latte—despite my vehement refusal.

  Trader, I thought as she took the money from his hand.

  “Let’s have a seat over here, and you can tell me all about my program now. Oh, and thank you for giving me back my shirt stain-free, or so it would appear.”

  “The stain is gone completely. It’s as good as new,” I said, ignoring his rub.

  “Much appreciated,” he said over his shoulder as we headed toward the table.

  I was staring at the other mug opposite him, but he ignored my questioning gaze and began his own line of questioning.

  “Now, tell me. How are the relationship options coming along? Any to your liking?”

  He pulled out his notepad and pen before, then turned in my direction to listen to my reply.

  “Well, I certainly got a lot of responses,” I said flatly.

  “Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good.”

  He wrote a comment in his notes that I couldn’t quite read and pulled the page out of my line of sight.

  “No! It is, I mean, it’s rather flattering and all. It’s just…”

  I couldn’t figure out the best way to say it without sounding prudish, as my friend would say.

  “Just what? Come on, don’t leave anything out. I want to know.”

  “It’s just that the respondents are not looking for the same thing I am.”

  There, I’d said it.

  “What do you mean?”

  Confused by my remark, Roger dropped his pen and tried to figure out what it was that I was trying to say. Watching him try to put the pieces of my thoughts together made me feel completely naked in front of him.

  “Um, how do I put this?”

  I didn’t know how to not sound like a complete idiot.

  “Just spilling it usually works best.”

  Fine, here went nothing.

  “See I’m just looking for someone to hang out with. No pressure, no over-the-top involvement. But the guys on this site… How do I put this politely? They’re not looking for any sort of companionship without some horizontal positioning.”

  Ugh, why was it so hard to tell him that all these guys just wanted was a booty call, and that they weren’t ever going to get it from me?

  “I’m not following?”

  Of course he wasn’t. I was pretty sure now that he was doing all this to me on purpose, to elicit a response from me, but one look in his eyes told me all I needed to know. He really didn’t understand what I was trying to say. Okay, this was new. I’d never met anyone like Roger before. His honesty was beyond reproach, and his willingness to listen had me glued to his every word. I was lost in my thoughts, unsure how to continue, when I realized I probably needed to stop sidestepping and just come out and say what I meant.

  Roger, on the other hand, continued as though unaware of my trepidation in this conversation.

  “Is the program not working correctly for your needs for some reason? Does it not help you in finding you someone to meet and have
a possible relationship with?”

  “Kinda.”

  This all would have been rather comical if it had been any other topic, but in this case, he was completely serious about his work, and finding that there was even a slight problem seemed to make him a tad crazy.

  “I don’t understand.”

  He shook his head, lost and bewildered.

  “I’m just so confused right now.”

  It was as though he was about to have a meltdown, and I couldn’t help but want to reach out to fix it for him. Wow, where did that come from?

  “The program is working, right?”

  For a moment, it seemed as though he had reprogrammed himself into a different person. He appeared as though he was looking at a screen as he talked to me. It was disturbing to say the least, but I had never met anyone like him before, so I took it as how people like him communicated to others, and simply waited for the opportune time to try and find the words to help him understand what I meant.

  “Look, I’m not trying to be harsh or anything. I only used the program a few times, and yes, the responses have been very good—great, even—better than expected. It’s just…”

  “Just what? I don’t understand. If the program worked to full function, than that would mean you should be getting a large number of respondents that would be more than willing to go out with you. Hopefully someone from those respondents would be suitable to date more than once. So, what’s the problem?”

  Now distant and aloof, Roger was getting snippy at me for trying to explain something I couldn’t figure out myself. Frustrating was the least of what I was feeling at the moment. I was on the verge of snapping because I didn’t know how to talk to him about this.

  Roger was used to problems that added up to reach a solution, but in the real word, that often was an issue. Most of the time, a plus b didn’t always mean c.

  Roger didn’t seem to make any connections that were outside the possibilities he saw. He only calculated for the solution, and not the real world, where anything other than a booty call could exist. These men I had encountered through the system were not looking for friendship the way I was. They were just looking to hook up and find their booty calls. Roger didn’t realize that in his program, he had figured out the algorithm that found the matches that best fit, without thinking through all the scenarios. Then it hit me: that’s how I had to explain this to him.

  Okay, here went nothing—again.

  “Roger, you built a fantastic program to get people to meet. The problem is that I don’t want a booty call. I want a person of the opposite sex to enjoy my company and to do some flirting with them—without having sex on our first encounter. Do you understand that?”

  Folding my arms, I awaited his reply as I watched him try to decipher the words.

  “Wait! What? What’s going on?”

  “Your program is kinda known to be a booty call network of sorts.”

  “Holy shit! That’s not what it’s supposed to be!”

  “Um, I kinda figured that, but it hasn’t been easy when all these perverts want is naked pictures of me.”

  My cheeks were literally on fire with the embarrassment from this conversation.

  “There had to be a few at least that weren’t perverts. I mean, give me something to work with here.”

  “Um, okay the ones that weren’t perverts were weirdos that I think just wanted into my apartment for my underwear draw.”

  “Great! I’m a failure, and worse than that a laughing stock!”

  Pushing the chair in with such force that it slammed against the table, Roger left the coffee shop without a word.

  What do I do here? Follow him? Reassure him? What?

  Unable to draw a satisfying conclusion in my mind, I decided on catching up to him and seeing if he was at least alright. Then again, we weren’t really friends, so he might dismiss me altogether, but I felt like I owed it to him to at least be there when he needed someone.

  “Wait! Roger, stop!”

  I hurried to try and catch up, but his long strides were too much for me.

  “Why? You basically told me my program is for sex, and all the people on it are just using it as a prostitution ring. Crap, will I be arrested soon for being a virtual pimp? Jesus, that would really mess up my life! I can see it now: ‘First-ever virtual pimp does walk of shame.’”

  “Wow, you’re dramatic!”

  He stopped so abruptly that I literally slammed into his back, making him huff out air from the assault. He slowly turned to face me with so much anger in his eyes I stepped back a few feet before I squared my shoulders to stand up to his inevitable lashing-out response.

  “I’m not a drama queen!”

  Well, that wasn’t what I had expected.

  “I didn’t say drama queen, but if the shoe fits…”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, get your head out of your ass and fix the freakin’ thing if it’s not what you wanted it to be. Don’t just quit because it got hard. Pun intended.”

  A giggle escaped before I think better of it.

  Laughing now with mirth in his eyes, he quickly took a step forward.

  Wow, this was a quick change in mood. I’d have to remember that for next time.

  If there was a next time.

  “You may be good for me,” he said as he closed the distance between us.

  “What did you say?”

  Had I heard him correctly?

  “I said, you may be good for me. No one has ever told me these things before, and certainly no one has ever called me a drama queen.”

  “Well, seems to me you were overdue. And I didn’t say ‘drama queen.’ I said you were being dramatic. So, what are you going to do about the program?”

  “Fix it, of course. Seems the vetting process needs refining, which should have been caught in beta testing, but it wasn’t, so I guess we used the wrong testers.”

  “That’s it?”

  I was in awe as I watched his abrupt three-sixty.

  “Yeah, why? What were you expecting?”

  “Well, the way you were so dramatic about it and all, I thought it involved a lot more work than you’re making it sound.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. It seems the algorithm will need adjusting, which should be a few hundred thousand lines of code and about three months of testing to get it right, but the foundation is solid, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “Holy crap. Did you just say a few hundred thousand lines of code?”

  “About more or less. Usually probably more, though, at this rate, depending on the algorithm I configure.”

  “Holy crap, you’re smart!”

  “Yes, I am. Thank you for noticing. How’s about you help me?”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Not last time I checked. So, how’s about it?”

  “What would I have to do?”

  “Pretty easy straightforward stuff. You’d have to test it out and let me know the results.”

  “How would I do that?”

  “It’s actually exactly what you’re doing now, just more. Then you would tell me the results and how they differed from the last time you used the program.”

  “So, basically I just keep doing what I’m doing to find someone to hang out with?”

  “Yep, easy enough. Then I adjust to try and get the program to respond better and weed out all the perverts.”

  “That would be nice, but it sounds impossible.”

  “Nah, just a few tweaks here and there, and then we’ll get it.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so.”

  “So, when do we start?”

  “We already did.”

  Chapter Three

  “What do you mean, we already did?”

  I grabbed for his arm as he shrugged and turned to leave, and brushed against his back instead.

  Realizing I was trying to get his attention, he whipped around to find me grasping for
something to say.

  “I lost you, huh? Sorry, I’m used to people understanding me more, so let’s start from here. I want you to utilize your free time in helping me fix my program.”

  Great, now he thought I was stupid or something.

  “Okay, so what do I get in return?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why would I want to spend my free time working with you on this program? What’s in it for me?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t get why you think I would want to spend what little free time I have with you to fix some program that doesn’t really interest me other than to find someone to spend my time with.”

  Puzzled and clearly out of his depth, Roger just stared at me.

  “Okay, if you’re lost for words, how about you get back to me? I’m going to go home now.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Don’t you want to help me fix the problem you found with my program?”

  “Not really. Why would I?”

  “Um.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Okay, well see ya. I’ve got some studying to do.”

  The change in my demeanor was evident as I decided that I no longer accepted his selfishness. First he had left me waiting for him for over an hour while he changed his shirt, and now he wanted me to spend all the free time I had with him on this project of his?

  Maybe he would counter with some sort of offer that was somewhat interesting. We would have to see over the next few minutes as I walked toward my apartment. If anything, I had the upper hand now, and I wasn’t relinquishing it anytime soon. Though this little game was somewhat immature, the thought of spending hours bored to tears was not something I was willing to do no matter how hot he was. The silence made the distance between us somewhat unbearable, but I decided it was for the best.

  ***

  Several days passed without a word from him, but what had I thought he’d do? After all, we had just met, and he had already decided to run my life. I didn’t think he would actually counter anyway, so I got on with my life and went back to my normal routine. Work, study, and the coffee shop for my iced mocha coffee. Since Bethany was spending the majority of her spare time with her new boyfriend on Friday nights, I either did laundry or went to the library. By week two, I had almost completely forgotten about the encounter with Roger until I got a call late one afternoon.