Or more accurately, all the fucking time.Playing the music from the new album is a constant reminder of her and our time together. Tryas I might, I can’t escape the memories of her because they haunt me like a curse.
Rubbing his beard, Rowdy eyes me pensively. “Do you think you’re romanticizing your night with her a bit too much? Y’all fucked for one night, and it’s like she ruined you for all other women.”
Gruffly, I reply, “I know, Rowdy, I know. Everything you’re saying, I already know.”
11
Annabelle
Now
Imutter under my breath, “This feels more like work than fun,” as Laura hauls me along behind her, heading to the open bar.Finally.
Ever the consummate professional, Laura made me waste several hours schmoozing. She handed out free tickets and backstage passes to thank our biggest advertising sponsors, which meant we had to talk shop and network. She didn’t even let me have a drink until we’d finished making the rounds. With every passing minute, I’m getting grumpier.
“I’m not paying my babysitter to watch the girls on a Saturday just so I can waste my free time suckingup to clients.”
“Stop being such a whiner,” Laura nudges me. “We’re off the clock now, and our girls’ night out can officially start. Let’s get some alcohol into you. Vodka soda?” She arches a brow at me, waiting for my acquiescence before placing our order with the bartender.
After we get our drinks, I ask, “Lining up any more dates for me?”
Weeks ago, when Laura set up my online dating profiles, I never would have thought I’d be enjoying it as much as I am.
“Nope, but I thought we could find you one here,bestie.”
The perverse happiness radiating from Laura’s face sets off alarm bells in my brain. She looks happier than a pig in shit. Which is a saying that doesn’t make much sense since pigs are one of the cleanest animal species.
“What? No,” I reply. Initially, I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of using dating apps, but I’ve come around to the idea. If I’m being honest, I enjoy being lazy and having Laura do the dirty work for me. She vets the guys, weeding out the weirdos, and all I do is show up. So far, I’ve been on three informal coffee dates, all of which were pleasant experiences. No second dates or immediate love connections, but no horror stories, either.
But I’m hopeful I’ll meet Mr. Right sooner or later. Preferably sooner.
“Yes. You need to practice your flirting skills. You’re a little rusty." Laura’s convinced that the reason I haven’t had any second dates is because I’m not flirtatious enough. Which… fair. I’m not. But I keep waiting to find that person I click with, where the conversation flows and we vibe easily. I don’t want to force things just so I can go on a couple more dates. "C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Laura coaxes.
It doesn’t sound fun. It sounds scary and anxiety-provoking.
“Just try to keep an open mind and loosen up, Anna.” When I stay quiet, she persists, “Weren’t you the one who wanted to meet someone the old-fashioned way?”
“That was before I realized how easy it was on the dating apps,” I lament.
“Oh crap, I see one more client I need to greet. You stay here and keep your eyes peeled for cute single guys. I’ll be back in a minute, and I’ll even bring you a fresh drink. Okay?”
“Fine,” I sigh. It’s easier to agree than to argue. “But make my drink a double.”
I’ll need it if she’s really going to make me strike up conversations and flirt with guys tonight. Surely, she won’t. That seems like a cruel and unusual punishment for someone who hasn’t dated since beforeHamiltonopened on Broadway. But if she does, liquid courage will be required.
“Hey, when you get back, let’s head out to watch the next band,” I suggest.
Laura narrows her eyes. With suspicion lacing her voice, she asks, “You want to listen to a country concert?”
No, I absolutely do not, but if it means I don’t have to make small talk and hit on random men backstage, then yes, I absolutely do. The lesser of two evils.
“Sure, might be fun,” I nod with false enthusiasm, sipping my cocktail.
After Laura leaves, I’m left to my own devices. Feeling awkward standing alone in a crowd of strangers, I wander to the food station to browse its offerings. Not only because I’m starving but also to have something to do. The buffet looks decent, and there’s a nice variety. I grab a plate and begin internally debating which appetizers to try.Although I’d love to sample all of them, the small plates necessitate choices.
A deep voice startles me out of my quandary. “I’d suggest staying away from the crab cakes and the chicken salad, but the cheeseburger sliders are good.”
“You had me at cheese,” I reply, turning to glance at the man speaking.
