Josh finishes writing and drops the clipboard on the bar, snagging his beer bottle. He takes a long drink, frowning as he considers my question.
“Molly, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s about?—”
A foghorn blares, cutting him off. We both cringe, our heads snapping toward Lolly, who’s now standing on a chair in the middle of the bar.
“Welcome, Speedy Singles!” she yells, waving her hands like she’s commanding a ship. “We’re about to get started! Those with green stickers on their name tags will sit at the tables. Those with orange will move about the room.” She points dramatically to the tables off to the side. “Tonight is heterosexual-focused, but we’re equal-opportunity lovers hereat Speedy Singles. Just be polite, ask if your interest is willing to chat. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find the love of your life!” She winks again, and I’m beginning to wonder if it’s a twitch. “We start in five minutes! If you don’t have your name tags, come see me. Otherwise, when I hit the horn again, we’ll get started! Have fun speeding!”
People clap like she’s just announced the second coming of Christ.
I exchange a wide-eyed look with Josh. “Is this happening? Did we just join a cult?”
“Oh, yeah.” He sniggers. “Don’t even think about escaping. This is going to be amazing.”
I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes at him. “This is going in the rom-com, isn’t it?”
He lifts his beer, grinning at me over the lip. “For sure.”
“Damn.”
We make our way to Lolly and pick up our name tags. She winksagainas we shuffle away. I’m starting to suspect she’s a serial killer—or at least some kind of sociopath. They wink a lot, right?
“Looks like I’m a table holder,” I say, tapping my green name tag.
Josh places the orange tag over his heart.
The horn blares again, silencing the crowd.
“Greens, take your seats. Oranges, muster over here. Let’s get speedy!”
Josh squeezes my shoulder before heading to the mustering area. I settle at a table between a woman who looks like a librarian and a man with an eyepatch.
I sigh. Looks like I’m last in line for the women.
“Hi, I’m Molly,” I say, leaning across to offer my hand to the woman.
She looks at my hand, sniffs. “And I’m Elena, your competition,” she declares.
I recoil, my hand curling back to my chest. “Oh, um… sorry. Good… hunting?”
She flicks her hair over her shoulder, ignoring me.
“Ignore her,” the man on my other side says. “She’s just salty because she’s been coming every night for a year.”
I turn to him, grateful for the reprieve. Mr. Eyepatch gives me a friendly smile.
“Syd,” he says, tapping his eyepatch. “Veteran just looking to get back into dating. Lost it to a pen, if you can believe it. Two tours, not a scratch. Back in the country for three months, and bam—random pen pops up and impales my eye. Makes for a great story, though.”
I nod, unsure how to respond.
A man scrapes out the chair on the other side of my table, sitting down just as the horn blares again. We both wince.
“You have six minutes, Speedy Singles! Begin!” Lolly shouts, pressing the horn again for good measure.
“Hey, I’m Jeremy.” He holds out a hand.
“Molly.” I shake it, offering a small smile.
We make small talk for several minutes, but the conversation runs dry quickly.
