“Scratch that,” I cut her off. “Decent single guys who want to date someone like me?”
“What? You have the plague?” Brent asked.
No, but for some reason, it sure did feel like I had been cursed my entire life, no matter how optimistic I tried to be … in spurts.
“I’m sure we can pull something together. So, what’s the problem?” she asked.
Melanie shrugged next to her. “Girl’s gotta have options.”
“Like blind dates,” Brent agreed.
“Me, on blind dates?” I hiccuped and quickly covered my mouth. Though it appeared that nearly everyone else must’ve been just as plastered as I was feeling. This was getting out of hand.
No one noticed, except for one of Gina’s coworkers behind us on the couch, who remained sober.
She handed me another glass of water.
I offered a wave to her in thanks.
She already had an amused smile. Actually, everyone had a glass of water in front of them now.
What would we do without this new friend I didn’t know the name of?
“I shouldn’t be worried about guys right now,” I said.
“But aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer. Was I slightly worried that, eventually, Gina was going to run off with one of her clients and elope in Croatia, leaving me to figure out life on my own as a lonely, unemployed homeless person who wouldn’t even be able to make street friends all that easily? I mean, I wasn’tnotworried about it.
Gina didn’t let it go. “Have some fun. Enjoy yourself. You’ve been too focused on your job hunt.”
“Because I need a job,” I said before clarifying, “A real job.”
“The jobs will be there,” said Brent, who had a very well-paying job from what I understood.
“I think what Brent is trying to say is that one or two or twelve dates aren’t going to cause your job applications to be deleted,” said Gina.
She had a point.
I shrugged, looking between Gina and the rest of my well-meaning, slightly red-cheeked friends. “All right.”
Her eyes expanded in almost shock.
There was a whoop from a few of our other friends around us, already naming people they had in mind or crossing them off their mental lists after they already got married or were in long-term relationships.
“This is much more fun than doing a Secret Santa,” someone said in the group.
“For real? We’re doing this?” Gina asked one last time to give me an out. She raised her eyebrows imploringly.
I let the moment sit between us all as they waited for my answer.
I nodded.
Brent nudged his mug against mine. They clunked together, and a few drops fell over the edge and on my jeans. “Cheers to that.”
two
I could tellI was going to have a massive hangover in the morning. Rolling off the side of my bed, I woke up before the sun, unable to ignore the dryness in my throat. I might’ve still been a little tipsy, not bothering to pull on my sweatpants before I lumbered toward the kitchen.
