Page 27 of Cupid Calamity

“How is it you smell like a bonfire and marshmallows?” She inhales deeply.

I smirk. “I just came from a scout jamboree.” She laughs, and it’s bawdy and feminine.

I laugh too. She’s funny. Gorgeous, sparkly, and fucking funny. No Melanie can live up to the gauntlet this woman’s inadvertently thrown down.

I don’t want Tihinyho when this woman is sitting all alone, and I certainly don’t want her with a Ricky. Not when there’s a fucking sizzle between blue dress and me. I’ll tell my boss it was a missed connection. Oh shit. I think I was at the wrong restaurant. The restaurant you told me to go to was shut down because the eels got out of the tank. Whatever it takes. I’ll text my boss and get out of this Tinywhole situation so I can get into this one. I need to get all over this blue dress, around it, behind it, and on top of it. Lots of prepositional phrases are popping into my head.

I lean on the bar to get a little closer. I say, “I’m not meeting Melanie.”

She sits up straight and stares at me. “What are you saying? Are you going to rescue me from a bad date with those light greenish eyes of yours?”

What the hell do I have to lose? It’s one night, and with any luck, we can skip dinner and grab something afterward. There’s a spark, heat, pull, all that bullshit, but it’s all sexual. I need to lick this woman from the tip of her spiky sexy heels up to her soft honeyed hair that, if I were more of a gentleman, I’d say cascades down her neck like a waterfall. It’s wavy, not curly, and it looks so soft. I’m going to touch it. I take a strand between my fingers and fuck me if even that doesn’t turn me on. She bites her bottom lip. Thank Christ for this tasty little snack. She's an assortment box of chocolates of possibilities, and I’m going to have to bite each piece to see what tastes best.

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SABRINA

I was going out with a stranger anyway but I want it to be this one. The stranger I picked. As a kid, I learned to be aggressive and passive—not passive-aggressive—each skill put to use to garner the most attention. I’m the middle kid. Neither here nor there in the family but both at the same time. Basically, manically all-in, or aloof and dismissive. It’s not served me well romantically. My new drunken airport friends have no bias or blessing/curse of personal history with me. I raise my phone and snap a picture. He looks worried.

I look at him. “Just in case you chop me into little pieces and I go missing. The detectives will have something to go on.”

He laughs. “Fair enough.” He sips his drink and gives me a tiny piece of privacy. But his fucking campfire smell has me burning already.

SABRINA: Not meeting Ricky Schlong. [insert picture]. I met this guy, and we’re ditching our blind dates.

TABI: Holy hot! But I’m not sure how I can go on without a picture of Ricky Schlong. My husband and other best friends are dying. We’re getting day-drunk for Valentine’s together. Please. Please send us a picture of Ricky Schlong.

TABI: Hey there, stranger. This is David, Tabi’s very best friend in the world. So much better than her husband. This Schlong man will haunt my dreams if you don’t let me see him. Please, stranger. Have mercy. I’ve GOT to see the Schlong.

TABI: Screw David. This is Tab’s bestest of best friends, Sam. I have faith in you that you can snap a shot of the short Schlong. We’re really invested in this.

TABI: Sorry about my asshole friends. But know we’re all interested. And jump that hot thang in the bathroom.

SABRINA: Hopefully, I won’t see him at all, but if I do, David & Sam, I promise to send one.

TRISTAN: He seems respectable. And you’re all dressed up. Have a drink with him. Do not jump into the loo with him.

TABI: Prude. Why are the Brits awake?

TRISTAN: Not so much prude as someone with a bit more decorum, my dear Californian friend. And it’s not that late.

TABI: Fair enough, Tris. But I’ll bet you’ve got a freaky side.

TRISTAN: NO comment.

SABRINA: Hey! Do I do it? Do I leave with a stranger?

TABI: Where’s Ben? He seems to be our voice of reason. RORY!? Are you there? Weigh in, please. Christ, Rory. Don’t make us worry about you too, my international brother from another mother. Please let us know you’re there. I’ll never sleep if you don’t check in.

JONATHAN: Sabrina, this is a possibility, I say do it. Chemistry can’t be bought.

TRISTAN: Jonathan, you speak as if you’re a card purchased at the chemist for your great-aunt’s birthday.

TABI: Jonathan, you are such a fucking girl. Goddammit, RORY!