Page 4

“Or my future one-night stand,” Frogger shouts and high-fives his friend.

I mentally note to remove him off of my list of potentials.

“Told you he was a douche.” Lucia gives me a look, and I nod.

I survey the rest of the men to take a note to see if I find any of them initially attractive. For the most part, the answer is no. But I remind myself that looks are only part of the equation. Personality means a lot as well. I look back over to the bar, and Brett has a beer in his hand and is scrolling on his phone, like he has no worries in the world. I reprimand myself for looking at him again.

“Hopefully, they all won’t be.”

“Yeah, they can’t be as bad as Colton,” Izzy murmurs. “Which, by the way, I think I’m going to throw a party at his beach house, if you guys are down.”

“Wait, what?” I spin around and gawk at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you about the offer that he made to me before we broke up for good?” She giggles, and I shake my head. “Well, he⁠—”

“Ladies, please take your seats,” Becky bellows.

Izzy shrugs. “I’ll tell you later.” She winks. “But, girl, get ready for a bomb-ass party that we won’t be cleaning up after.”

“I can’t wait to hear more.” I can’t help but smile, even as worry hits me at her words.

Somehow, I have a feeling that having a party at Colton’s beach house is going to blow up in some sort of disaster, but I am a friend through and through. I’ll be there for her to clean up the pieces.

I make my way over to one of the tables and take a seat, picking up the black marker and doodling on a napkin while waiting for the first man to join my table. I feel awkward, sitting here, getting ready to flirt in front of Brett, who I am actively trying to ignore. It really feels like a recipe for disaster, but there’s nothing I can control about the situation. I quickly open my purse, pull out my deep red lipstick, and reapply it before my first date gets there.

“How did you know red was my favorite color?”

A tall guy with a red cap with the words Beer Time grins as he pulls out his stool and takes a seat. I have no idea what his cap means, but I’m not going to ask him.

“I bet I can guess your name.” He gives me a warm smile as he leans in, and I look at him in surprise.

Does he really know my name? Did he see me earlier and ask someone for it?

“Oh, you think so?”

“Oh, I don’t just think so. I know so. Based on how gorgeous you are”—his eyes look me up and down—“is your name Eve?”

“What?” I stare at him in surprise, not knowing whether to laugh or not. “Did you say Eve?”

“Yes, doll, that’s exactly what I said.”

“No. Why would you think that?” I ignore his doll comment, as I’m not looking to get into an argument during the very first date.

“Because you look like the first woman who was made on earth and her name was Eve. You’re the prototype for a class-A beauty.” He moves his fingers in an hourglass shape, and I can officially say that I think he’s tacky and crude. At least inside my head. “So, you know what that means, right?”

“No, what?”

“My name must be Adam because I think I was made for you.” He winks like he thinks he just knocked his line out of the park, and it takes everything in me to not groan. Loudly.

“I don’t really know what to say to that, Adam.”

“I know; I’m too smooth, right?” He leans forward, and I shift back quickly.

“You could say that.” Or not, but I’m not looking to get into an argument.

“My name’s not Adam though. It’s Pete.”

“Why did you say your name was Adam?”