“Seriously, River? Again?” Maya West, my best friend, stares down at me from the end of the table with a disappointed frown she’s perfected over the years.
What did she expect me to do with my time? Sit here and twiddle my thumbs? I had to keep occupied somehow. She should know me better. I’m not the type to do something like pick up a newspaper or book for entertainment. Keeping my hands busy keeps my mind sane.
“What?” I pop a green candy into my mouth as she takes a seat. I wash it down with a big gulp of my now cooled coffee, which is loaded with enough sugar to put me in a coma. My pseudo-nephew, Sam, slides into the chair next to her. I stick my tongue out at my favorite little rascal, and he returns the gesture. I turn my attention back to Maya. “These precious babies don’t belong with that”—I snarl my lip at the offending colors—“trash.”
“They all taste the same,” Maya argues, like she always does.
“Lies!” A few patrons inside scowl at my loud antics, but Sam laughs, which is what I’m truly aiming for. Now that he’s twelve going on twenty, it’s becoming harder to make him laugh as he transitions into his grumpy teenage years. I miss when all I had to do was cross my eyes at him and he’d giggle for five minutes straight.
“You’re so strange.” She scoots her chair closer to the table, tossing her long, chocolate hair behind her shoulder. “It’s no wonder you can’t find someone to date you.”
Maya doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, so her words aren’t intended to sting, but they do.
Especially after yet another failed date last night.
My singlehood has been a bit of a daunting subject between us ever since I officially ended things with my ex.
We’d been together off and on for three years. Our relationship wasn’t super serious and things had been stalling out for some time, and one day, I realized I was ready for more, something steady—and my ex wasn’t. He was constantly flopping between jobs…and other people’s couches, and I’m past that stage in my life. I knew I needed to cut my losses and move on.
I jumped back into the dating scene hard at first, going on a date a week at least. It didn’t take long for me to realize what I was wanting—stability.
I’m not saying I’m ready for a trip down the aisle, but finding something…someone…that promises a future eventually would be nice.
After a lot of failed dates, I slowed it down. I’ve only been out with a handful of guys over the past year, all of them duds.
Maya thinks I’m being too picky, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with knowing what you are (and aren’t) willing to compromise on. Is it too much to ask that I find a guy who is funny, kind, has a steady job, and is hot?
It’s not like I need to find The One, but consistent orgasms that don’t come from my vibrator and someone to snuggle other than my cat Morris does sound nice, not to mention doing something other than working and hanging out with Maya and Sam—though I do love them dearly.
“I’m not strange,” I tell her. “I’m…particular.”
“You can say that again.” She raises a brow, darting her eyes toward the pile of green M&M’S in front of me. “Speaking of dating, how’d last night go?”
I slide my eyes Sam’s way, unsure if I want to spill the details of my latest dating misadventure in front of my godson. I’m sure he’s not paying much attention, but it still feels weird considering I continue to see him as a toddler and not an almost teenager.
Maya notices my hesitation. “Hey, kiddo, go grab us some pie, would you? Cherry for your aunt River, of course.” She digs around in her purse for far longer than is reasonable and finally thrusts her debit card into his hand. “And some coffee. You know what I like.”
He grabs the card. “You should get a wallet, Mom. I don’t think it’s safe to leave your card loose in your purse like that.”
“As opposed to leaving it in my wallet where a thief would know where it is?”
He rolls his eyes in response, and she grins in triumph.
“For the record,” I say as Sam shuffles away, “I’m on his side with that.”
“Says the girl who separates her M&M’S by color.”
“The green ones are the best!”
“Remind me why we’re friends again? We have zero in common.”
“That’s exactly why—it keeps things interesting. Plus, I was the only person there for you during your whole pregnant-at-sixteen scandal.”
She snorts out a laugh. “Right. That.”
When I was eight, Maya’s family moved in next door, and we became instant best friends. It didn’t matter that we were total opposites and constantly fought over frivolous stuff like which boy band was better—we were inseparable.
We’ve been friends for twenty years now and have been through it all: high school drama, teenage pregnancy, marriage, becoming business partners, divorce…you name it. No matter what life throws at us, we’re still thick as ever.
She’s the sister I never had and always wanted.
“So, last night?” Maya purses her perfectly full lips, training her startling gray eyes on me.
“Right, right.” I tap my chin. “Last night was…interesting.”
“Good or bad?”
“Good…ish.”
“You’re doing a bang-up job clearing this up for me,” Maya deadpans.
“Well, it started when my date—”
“Cheddar!” She claps her hands together, grinning like a fool. “Say it. Say his douchebag frat boy name that he is way too old to still be going by.”
It is a ridiculous name. In fact, Cheddar might have been the first guy Maya didn’t try to convince me to give a shot. I went out with him to prove I wasn’t as picky as she claims.
My mistake.
“It started with Cheddar spilling his drink across the table.”
“What was he drinking?”
“Why is that important?”
“A drink order says a lot about a person.” Maya waves her hand impatiently. “Let’s have it.”
“Frozen strawberry daiquiri.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret telling her.
She’s laughing so hard she’s not even making a sound as I sit there throwing daggers her way. I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back in my chair, letting her get it out.
“Are you finished yet?” She hasn’t made a sound other than sucking in air for at least thirty seconds.
Finally, she expels a breath, wiping at her eyes. “Not only does he still go by Cheddar, he drinks that. I can’t believe you didn’t marry him on the spot.”
“It was truly awkward when I ordered my whiskey neat.”
“Attagirl.”
I move on. “Anyway, the drink order and spill were something I could get over. Maybe he was nervous? Who knows? And when he mentioned still living with his mother? Whatever, the economy and all that. But…”
“Why do I have a feeling this is going to be good?”
“But then he said—and I fucking quote—that blackberry pie is the best kind of pie.”