Chapter 3: Facing the Truth

The old man, clearly annoyed, flung my arm aside and rolled his eyes like he’d seen a thousand stubborn fools just like me.

"If you don't have a mirror, you've at least got a puddle to look in, right? Take a good look at yourself. What makes you think a gorgeous woman would throw herself at you?" His words stung more than I wanted to admit, echoing in the thick summer air as a pickup truck rumbled past.

I wanted to snap back, but the words stuck in my throat. I couldn’t argue. Deep down, the guy had a point.

He was right.

I drive an old Crown Vic with the paint peeling off, live above a laundromat that smells like bleach and burnt lint, and eat more Wendy’s than any doctor would recommend. Sure, I’ve dated a few women, but last night—that woman was way out of my league. There’s no way someone like her would be interested in me. I chewed my lip, staring at my sneakers, my mind replaying every second of that strange encounter.