“You didn’t say no, either.” She starts flipping through my clothes, pulling things out.
“Where are we going again?”
“Lucky’s. It’s on Avenue B, just a couple blocks over. Dive bar, cheap beer, good music. You’ll like it.”
The idea of going out makes something flutter in my chest. Partly excitement—I’ve barely left the apartment except to job hunt and buy groceries—and partly anxiety. Going to a bar means people. Crowds. What if someone recognizes me? What if there’s someone there who’s seen my face in the tabloids, who knows I’m the girl who ran away from her wedding?
But also, I’ve been in New York for two weeks and I’ve barely done anything. I came here to start over, to have a life that’s actually mine, and that doesn’t happen if I stay locked in my room staring at job listings.
Cori pulls out a black slip dress and my leather jacket. “This. With your Docs.”
“Maybe. But I haven’t said yes yet.”
“You’re going to say yes. I can tell.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because you’re already thinking about what you’re going to wear, which means you’re mentally committed.” She grins. “I’ll do your hair. The half-up thing with the little clips. It’ll look cute.”
“Cori—”
“Marcus!” she yells toward the door. “Annie’s coming out with us!”
“I literally didnotagree to that!”
“You’re agreeing right now! I’m watching it happen.”
I sit up, trying to look stern, which is hard to do when you’re in your underwear and covered in sweat. “You’re very pushy.”
“I prefer ‘persuasive.’” She tosses the dress at me. “Come on. Get dressed. We’re leaving in an hour.”
“An hour? That’s not enough time—”
“It’s plenty of time. You’re not going to the Oscars, you’re going to a dive bar in the East Village. Low stakes. High reward.” She’s already heading for the door. “And if you try to back out, I’m sending Marcus in here to drag you out, and trust me, you don’t want that. He will absolutely do it.”
“This feels coercive!”
“It’s not coercion, it’s called friendship!” She blows me a kiss from the doorway. “Wear the dress. You’ll look so hot in it!”
I’m sitting on my bed holding a slip dress and wondering how I just got steamrolled into going to a bar. But also, I’m smiling.
Marcus pops his head in about thirty seconds later. “You’re going.”
I glare at him. “Cori already strong-armed me. You don’t need to gang up.”
“Just making sure you got the message,” He leans against the doorframe. “Brett’s meeting us there, by the way. Fair warning, he’s going to try to psychoanalyze you within the first ten minutes. It’s what he does.”
“Is he a therapist?”
“No, he just thinks he is.” Marcus grins. “But he’s harmless. And he makes a mean martini.”
“Noted.”
He eyes the dress in my hands. “Good choice, by the way. I was going to recommend that one.”
“Of course you were.”
“Wear it with the jacket. Very ‘I’m mysterious and possibly dangerous but in a fun, romantic way.’”
