“It’s okay,” she sighs. “I wasn’t a fan.”
I take a spot beside her, my back against the wall. The cool wood feels good against my spine. I fan my face with my palm, wondering how the temperature just keeps rising.
“How about you?” she asks. “How’d you do?”
I lift my shoulders and let them fall. “Not great,” I admit. “No one stood out.”
Kirsten looks at me, then at the room. “That’s weird.”
“Why?”
She gestures vaguely toward the bar, the crowd, the sheer number of options. “Because on paper, tonight should be your Super Bowl.”
I snort. “Wow. Thanks.”
“You know what I mean,” she says. “You’re single. Cute. St. Patrick’s Day. You literally announced your intentions like a mission statement.”
“I know.” I pick at the edge of my cup. “I just…” I hesitate, then say quieter, “It felt forced. Like I was trying to convince myself.”
“Convince yourself of what?”
I open my mouth. Close it. Swallow.
“That I want something easy,” I say. “That I’m over everything.”
“Aren’t you?”
I don’t answer right away. My gaze drifts again, unbidden, across the room. To the exact spot where I last saw Beck disappear with Trish.
“How about this,” Kirsten says, turning toward me and resting her head against the wall. “Tell me what you’re actually looking for in a man. Maybe then we can find you one.”
“A one-night-stand guy or a real guy?” I ask, buying time.
She tilts her head, studying me. There’s a hint of pity there, which I immediately resent. “Which do you want,” she asks, “really?”
I blow out a breath and let my head tip forward. “Okay, how bad are you going to tease me if I say I don’t want a one-night-stand guy?” I glance at her. “That I thought maybe I could be that girl, but turns out I’m…not?”
“Tease you?” She grins, pretending to consider it. “Oh, I don’t know.Endlessly.”
I groan. “Fantastic.”
“But,” she adds, sobering just a touch, “I’m not surprised.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“Because you’ve never been that person. The casual hook-up person.”
“I make bad decisions all the time,” I argue, then wonder why I’m defending my own mistakes.
“You make bad decisionssometimes,” she corrects. “But always with good intentions.”
“Like Brandon,” I say. “He was a bad decision.” I brace for the pain and am surprised when what I feel instead is relief. If who he was during that last fight was the real Brandon, then, yeah, I totally dodged a bullet.
“You can’t blame yourself for that one,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. “He chased you hard. Pretended to be exactly what you wanted. Lured you in until it was too late. Even I was fooled at first.”
That helps. Kirsten has a terrifyingly accurate bullshit detector. If he didn’t set it off immediately, maybe I wasn’t as stupid as I’ve been telling myself.
“What do I want?” I murmur, tapping my lip. “I want someone loyal. Someone kind in the quiet ways, not just when people are watching. Someone who shows up when it matters, without needing to be reminded.”
