“I think you should just go for it,” Geoff says, placing a copy of War and Peace under my name on the Staff Picks list. I roll my eyes and reach for it, placing Fifty Shades of Grey there instead.
“Geoff, are you not listening to me? I can’t. The chance to write this column is important to me and that’s what the whole bloody thing is about: being single and loving it.”
Geoff eyes me. “And are you loving it?”
I shrug.
“I see.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Well, surely you can just be friends with him? If you can manage that,” he adds with an exaggerated wink.
“I think I can. At least, I want to try.” And I’ve been mulling this over. Surely one of the things about being single is having platonic relationships with the opposite sex, including dealing with the intense urge to jump into bed with them when it’s a bad idea. This is an issue I could explore in my writing. I tell Geoff my thoughts and he nods in agreement.
“Yes. I think you’re right. So really,” he says, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “you’re going to have to spend time with him, for research. Your writing depends on it.”
I giggle. “I don’t think I have a choice.”
Geoff picks up a duster and starts working around the front display. “Hey, what are you doing for New Year’s Eve?”
“I have no idea.”
“Maybe we should throw a party.”
“What, here?” I glance around the store.
“No. We could hire a bar.”
“It’s like two weeks away! Everything will be booked. Plus it would cost a fortune.”
He adjusts his glasses, considering this. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“We could have the party at our place,” I suggest, and his face brightens. “I’d have to ask Cat, though. And it might not work, because there are other people in our building.”
Geoff’s eyes glint with mischief. “Perhaps the other people in the building should be invited.”
“You mean Michael?” I say wryly.
He gives an innocent shrug, as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “Well, you know,” he says, focusing his attention on the display in front of him, “if Michael is there, and you are there, and neither of you have someone to kiss at midnight…” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully and a laugh bubbles in my chest.
Fuck, that sounds delicious, but what a disastrous idea that would be. I’m quite certain that if I let myself kiss Michael, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’d be tearing his clothes off and dragging him into bed to give him the happiest fucking new year of his life.
Still, a New Year’s Eve party does sound fun—a lot more fun than spending the night at home alone.
“Fine,” I relent. “I’ll ask Cat.”
Cat’s sitting at the breakfast bar when I get home.
“Hey.” I drop my bag and kick off my shoes. “What are you doing for New Year’s? Geoff and I thought maybe we could throw a party here.”
Her eyes light up. “That’s a great idea! We should totally do that.”
I grin, firing off a text to Geoff. He sends back a row of salsa dancer emojis that makes me laugh.
“What are you up to tonight?” I pad into the kitchen, surveying the takeout bag on the counter.
“I have a date.”
“Ooh! Who with?”
“Someone I matched with on Tinder.” She stuffs some fries in her mouth. “His name’s Kyle.”
I pull a half-full bottle of wine from the fridge. “Why do you do all this? Like, why not just wait and see if you meet someone? Why all the dating apps and that?”
“Because I want a relationship. It’s not like it’s a biological clock thing, or anything—I don’t want kids. But... it would be nice to meet a good guy.”
I nod as I slide onto a seat at the breakfast bar beside her.
“It’s hard work, though,” she continues around a mouthful of burger. “All the dressing up, all the effort of putting your best foot forward, not letting them see your faults and all that. It’s like going on a job interview.”
I take a long sip of wine. “Why not just be yourself?”
“Dating is like a sport, here. There are all these unspoken rules and it just feels like a test, the whole time. But… you have to play the game if you want to win.” She shrugs, taking a big bite of her burger and chewing thoughtfully. “It’s not like I’m not picky,” she says after a while. “I know what I want, and that’s someone who’s nothing like my ex.”
“What’s your ex like?”
“Ugh. Mark’s a dick.” Cat makes a face, flicking through her phone and showing me a picture. On the screen is a guy with dark mussed hair and gray-blue eyes. He’s holding a leather jacket over one shoulder, hooked on his finger like guys do when they think they’re cool, and there’s a silver chain around his neck. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, but there’s something kind of slimy about him.
“He thinks he’s so cool with his tattoos and his ripped jeans. And he flirts with women constantly—he even did it when we were together. He just drives me nuts. So basically anyone who is the opposite of him has a chance.” She picks up her burger, taking another bite. I reach for a fry but she bats my hand away.
“Why are you eating now? You’re not going to dinner?”
“No, we are. But I usually order a salad on a date, so the guy doesn’t think I’m a pig. Then I end up starving like an hour later.”
I snort, pushing off the stool and wandering over to my bedroom nook. “Is Mel going out with you tonight?”
“No.” Cat stands and tosses the takeout bag in the garbage. “I think she’s started seeing someone, but she won’t tell me anything about him.”
“Yeah, she mentioned something at brunch, but she wouldn’t tell me much. Do you think she’s
