INDIE: Haaaa haaa
INDIE:I have a date with Joe tonight
MERCER: …
SUNNY: [five smile emoji, plus fireworks]
MERCER: …
MERCER: …
She must have given up typing her response because my phone rings, and before I can say hello Mercer is yelling in my ear. “How did this happen? Not that I’m surprised. Obviously, the hottest man-ticket in town is going to ask out the hottest woman-ticket in town.You’re basically supermodel-gorgeous and amazing and funny and of courseyou have a date with Joe Pratt.”
I laugh. “That’s what I keep saying!” I’ve been chanting the words under my breath like a mantra since I locked myself in my van.
I have adatewith Joe Pratt.
I have a date withJoe Pratt.
Ihave a date with Joe Pratt.
“I don’t know how it happened. I dumped color powder all over myself and he asked.” I’m sitting in the front passenger seat so I don’t contaminate my makeshift bed. I slide down and prop my feet on the dash.
“Come again?Heasked?”
“Yeah. Prank gone wrong. I’m covered in that colored powder stuff they use at races. It was on sale and I wanted to get Joe back for always waking me up in the morning, but the wind was blowing the wrong way. Point is, what am I going to wear on my date tonight? All I have in this state are leggings and one wrinkled cocktail dress.” I’m not sure if my babbling is nervousness or hormones, but my mouth is running like a preteen girl at her first boy band concert.
An audible gasp interrupts my rant then, “Joe’s been waking you up in the morning?”
“Yeah, I’m camping at his house.”
“I’m calling Sunny. You have fifteen minutes to get your butt over here.”
I pull my phone away from my ear to check the time. “I think I have a date with Eric in an hour.”
She laughs and I hear her juggling her phone. “Is there an available man within a ten mile radius who hasn’t asked you out today?"
I pick at my nails while I respond, “Eric asked me out at girls’ night. I don’t even know if it’s a real date or like a friend thing.”
“Classic Eric.” She sighs like I’ve caught a local virus and not a breakfast invitation. “It’s a date, trust me. The big chicken won’t call it a date because then his ego won’t implode when a girl turns him down.”
“That sounds like the voice of experience.”
That comment is met with a gusty sigh. “Take it from a girl who has been on a few non-dates with him. I lost interest after our third hang out. He’s a nice guy, but sometimes a girl wants to be pursued, you know?”
I thought of Miles and his version of pursuit. I’ve had no desire to text him or call him since arriving in Utah. In fact, I hadn’t thought of him much at all. I feel like I've finally canceled an unused gym membership. Months and months of payments from me, but no improvement to us. I can’t figure out if I’m the gym or the lazy person in this metaphor. Maybe our relationship is the gym, and I am the only one making payments? Either way, he had been draining me and I didn’t realize it until his weight was gone. The months of wasted time are a regret, but ending it is a major relief. No more Gumdrop for Miles to use as a social media prop then ignore. “Itotallyget that.”
“So come over here right after your thing with Eric. Sunny and I will be waiting to harass you.”
A few hours later, after a thorough shower, buttermilk pancakes, and a loooong conversation with Eric, about Eric, I’m poised to knock on the door of Mercer’s townhouse when the door flies open and she drags me inside by my elbow.
“Finally! What took you so long?”
I wave at Sunny, who is lounging on the overstuffed couch with her tan legs thrown over the arm. “Eric is chatty. You could’vewarned me.” We had talked on the hike and at girls’ night, but it’s different when you’re in a Denny’s waiting for the check. Subtract the breakfast foods and you have a hostage situation.
Sunny pipes up. “Did he tell you about his signed copy ofHotel California?”
I laugh and feign hurt, “You mean I’m not the only person he’s shared that with?”
