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The Boyfriend Experience
Sade Rena
1
Day One
“Whiskey neat, please.” With a forceful breath, I press my back into the wooden countertop. Searching the crowd, I match names to the faces of those I recognize as the scent of liquor fills my lungs.
I’d give anything to be home working on my client list and enjoying more than a single glass of Jim Beam. But instead, I’m here, in a room full of people who I plan to charm for their dollars. Now, before you frown your nose up at me, allow me the chance to clarify. It’s not what you think. While I am here to basically talk my way into the wallets of the wealthiest investor, it’s strictly business. You see, I’m the CEO of Dynamix PR—a high-profile boutique marketing firm and was welcomed to this exclusive networking extravaganza. While most of the events I’ve attended lasted only a night, this one is special. We’re aboard a chartered luxury cruise ship for the next seven days.
Since starting Dynamix three years ago, I’ve dreamt of receiving an invitation to this thing. All the major brands and high-ranking investors are invited out once a year for a week-long mixer. The primary purpose is to mingle, network, and hopefully spark the interest of those here looking to bankroll up-and-coming businesses. Getting to attend one of these events is by invite only. Some people here have received this honor many times, but it’s my first year here. And while I’m excited about it, I learned this morning my jerk of an ex will be present.
We may be in the same room at some point throughout this week, but I’m praying we lose each other in the swarm of folks here. The ship is large enough for it to be possible. So far, we’ve been aboard and cruising for half an afternoon, and I have not seen him.
“Here you go, miss,” the bartender says, freeing me from my thoughts.
I turn to face him and can’t help but notice how attractive he is. And I swear the look he gives me has a hint of flirtation mixed in. I take my drink, letting my fingers graze his. His smile brightens, confirming what I thought. I lift the beverage to my lips, and with inviting eyes, I return his gaze. Someone a few stools down calls for his attention, and without breaking eye contact with me, he taps his palm against the sticky surface and casually steps away.
I sip from the cocktail straw and inhale the alcoholic goodness. I look to my right, surveying the bar, searching for no one really, but more so to keep my mind occupied. There’s a few folks huddled in a small group, placing orders and chatting amongst each other. They seem eager to be here, and I find myself wondering what prompted their invitation. Are they investors or representatives of one the many thriving brands? My bartender has moved on from the previous caller and has made his way down to the end of the bar. I realize I really am waiting for him to come back in my direction. I shake my head at myself and take another sip.
“Sabrina Rogers?” a disembodied voice calls.
I cringe at the sound of my name, refusing to turn around. At this moment, I regretfully accept that what I so badly wanted not to happen, actually is. I know the person behind the voice, and it’s not someone I care to interact with.
“Sabrina?” he repeats.
I contemplate rushing off in the opposite direction. Not only would that be awkward, but these heels I’m wearing won’t allow it. With another sip of my drink, I take a deep breath, brace myself, then twirl to face him.
“D'Andre.” I fake a smile while giving him a once-over.
Though I may be annoyed by the sight of him, I can’t deny how good his shaved head and smooth, medium-brown skin looks under the dim lighting. Beside him stands a tall beauty, exotic in appearance with high cheekbones and long blonde hair. She grips his forearm with both hands and presses her chest against him. I remain focused, trying not to let his presence get to me. He reaches out to rest his hand on my shoulders. I stiffen with my lips pressed together, and my breath catches in my throat.
“I’m surprised you were invited to this. This is your first one, right?” He lets his hand fall to his side as he peers at me with a smug grin.
I don’t answer. Not because I don’t want to or that I don’t have anything to say back to him, because believe me, there’s a few choice words I’d like to give. But, I’m not one to lose my composure in mixed company, and definitely not during a professional event. That’s part of the problem D'Andre and I had with each other. Where he was loud, arrogant, and obnoxious, I was charming, collected, and graceful.
“This is Aliza!” he says when I don’t speak. “My fiancée.”
Aliza smiles and reaches out a hand to me. Respectfully, I extend my own and engage in a firm shake.
“Nice to meet you, Aliza. I’m Sabrina.” I smile and shift on my heels.
D'Andre continues his passive-aggressive insults, but I tune him out and take another swig of my drink. When it’s empty, I flag down the cute bartender for a refill.
“A double, please.”
The bartender nods and proceeds to make the order.
I inadvertently glance in their direction, but my gaze doesn’t land on them. Instead, I awkwardly avoid direct eye contact and continue to scan the room while tapping the sole of my stiletto against the carpeted floor. My muscles tense with each passing second.
“So, Sabrina, what do you do?” Aliza asks, her tone soft and seemingly sincere.
For a moment, I was going to ignore her question, the same as I have the last several comments made by D'Andre. But I search her face and find genuine warmth in her eyes that for some reason sets me at ease. I open my mouth to answer, but he interjects.
“Oh, she runs a small PR firm.” He shrugs and diverts his gaze to his Aliza.
Small?See, this is precisely why I didn’t want to run into this fuck on this trip. He always manages to say the simplest things to get under my skin. And let’s not forget to mention he’s so full of himself.
