I’ll recognize the freckles.
Well, it’s not as bad as him distinguishing me because of my breasts. But maybe he’s being humorous or flirty and I’m not getting it.
Me
And how will I recognize you?
Ladder Guy
Oh, don’t worry, love. You’ll notice me.
That almost sounds like a threat. Or is it a promise?
Chapter Three
Gen
I observe the bartender, considering calling him to order another drink. It would help soothe my nerves, but being tipsy by the time Ladder Guy arrives doesn’t sound like a good idea.
I take a deep breath instead and gaze at the bar’s entrance. He’s nearly five minutes late. Already, this isn’t starting well. I don’t care what Hana will say about it—I’m not waiting more than ten minutes for someone I don’t even know.
It’s my first time doing something like this, and I don’t like it. As soon as I sobered up after that drunken night, I deleted my profile from the app and removed it from my phone. The only reason I’m even here is because she forced my hand with blackmail, threatening to post Throwback Thursday photos of me that should never see the light of day.
Because I blame her entirely for the situation I’m currently in, I send her a text.
Me
This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done.
Hananana
You haven’t done it yet.
Me
Hana, it’s too much.
Hananana
Oh, come on. It’s nothing millions of people haven’t done before. Besides, he could arrive any minute now. Aren’t you a little curious?
Me
The fact that he’s late doesn’t work in his favor. He has another five to arrive, and then I’m gone.
Hananana
You’re such a wuss, Gen. It’s just a drink with some guy.
I set the phone down with a frustrated sigh. “This is ridiculous,” I whisper to myself. I’m sure there are better and saner ways to hone my craft. It’s been less than a week since Eddie broke things off, so being here now is way too early.
The thought of my ex makes my lips pinch with bitter discontentment. Although I haven’t cried yet, nor am I feeling any deep emotions over it, the breakup is affecting my work. My mind isn’t as focused as it used to be, and I’ve become paranoid, thinking every whisper I catch is about me.
Serves me right for dating someone who works for the same company.
We haven’t spoken since he left. Not via messages, not on the phone, not in real life… I’m unsure who should be the one reaching out first. I’m the dumpee, so it would be pathetic if I did. He said he’d keep me updated when he had a space for his things. Maybe I should wait for that. Or maybe he’ll come to his senses and return home.
I grab my clutch from the bar top, deciding to put an end to this madness. I’ll pay for my lemon drop martini and leave before Ladder Guy can arrive.
