ONE
MINDY
“Which one makes my butt look better? The hot pink or the leopard print?”
Kathryn’s perfectly sculpted auburn eyebrow shoots up. “You want me to check out your ass?”
“Oh come on.” I roll my eyes and toss a jacket at her. “You said you’d come over to help me pick out an outfit for my date.”
“Yeah, to live vicariously through you,” she grumbles. “At least you’re going on a date with your bachelor. Mine has already re-scheduled.”
Last Saturday night, she dragged me to a charity bachelor auction at a popular resort and casino on the Las Vegas strip. Not that I’m opposed to hanging out on the strip or supporting a good cause.
It’s just… I’d only been in town all of three hours at that point. But not even my explaining that I’d been up driving half the night, because I was too anxious about meeting the moving crew delivering the pod containing all my earthly belongings tosleep on a crappy motel bed, was enough of a reason for her to give me the night off.
No, as my self-appointed welcoming committee and guide to Sin City, Kathryn declared that it was important—nay, necessary—to go out and explore the nightlife in my new city my first weekend.
As a result, it had only taken one glass of champagne—and a bit of her encouragement—for me to join her in bidding on—and winning—a date with one of the evening’s bachelors.
“Maybe this week was just busy?”
Her eye twitches. “Twice.”
I pull a face. Because, she’s right. It isn’t promising. Especially when he cancelled the first time, he used some BS line about it being a ‘matter of national security with potential global ramifications.’
That’s a direct quote. I saw the text he sent her half an hour after he was supposed to meet her for their date.
“Maybe it’s all part of the date experience,” I offer helpfully.
Her brow furrows. “How do you mean?”
“Well… maybe it’s to add drama and mystique to the noting of winning a date with a ‘Navy Seal.’” I lift a shoulder and dig through another box to find another sports bra option. “You know, ‘national security,’ ‘band of brothers,’ ‘serving my country.’ All of that. It’s part of the fantasy.”
“Maybe.” She nods thoughtfully. “Which is why your date?—”
“Told me to join him for a ride on his bike and to dress for it.” I sigh and gesture at the athletic and leisurewear strewn around my bedroom. “I’ll admit, when I won a date with a biker, I didn’t think that meant I’d be going for a workout.”
“Yeah, I was kind of surprised you went for him.” Kathryn sorts through one pile of the clothes and lifts up a black sports bra that could almost be considered sexy in the right circumstances. “You’ve never really struck me as a cycling girl.”
“Oh, I’m not.” I give a short laugh. “I mean, I’ve seen short updates on the Tour de France in my feed or on TV. And I remember when virtual cycling classes captured the imaginations of the world.”
“And so you thought you’d go for a man who teaches a class or has raced for what? To try something different? To get close to a celebrity of some sort.”
“Honestly, I didn’t even listen to his resume to know. I just thought he was really hot.”
Kathryn laughs. “There are worse reasons to date a man.”
“Plus, all the proceeds go to a good cause.”
“You’re right. We’re true humanitarians.”
We share a grin with each other, and I sober. “What happens if I can’t keep up with him on the bike trail or in the class, or wherever he’s planning on taking us?”
“You’ll be fine. Just do your best and drink your water.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “And if you feel like you’re going to pass out stop. Then give me a call, I’ll pick you up, and we’ll grab a cocktail to drink our sorrows away.”
That’s one of the best things about Kathryn. She really is a good friend who knows exactly what I need.
TI go with the hot pink compression pants. Not because I think they make my butt look good. To be honest, the jury is still out on that. But, since we’re going on a bicycle ride to God knows where in the evening, I figure these will make me stand out to drivers and help me avoid potential hazards.
