And that’s what I always was. Alone.
Hazel had already moved her stuff out of our apartment to go live with Tom. Sometimes I found myself standing at the door of her bedroom, staring at where she had once slept.
“What are you thinking about?” Hazel said.
“Huh?” I said, snapping back to reality. “Oh. Nothing.”
I didn’t want to ruin her special day. I rubbed the heart-shaped locket on my bracelet. I did it so often over the years, it’d turned smooth.
Hazel glanced at the locket. “Thinking about your parents?”
“What?” I said, releasing the locket. “No.”
“You seem very quiet,” Hazel said.
“I’m just thinking about old times,” I said.
She leaned forward and balanced her chin on the palms of her hands. “Which old times?”
“All of them.”
The six of us grew up close, more like sisters than friends. Growing up could be hard. These guys gave me the love and support I needed. I guess we did that for each other.
I was really happy for Hazel. She’d found someone to love. Although, in all honesty, I never thought Tom would be the man she’d end up settling down with. He always seemed a little… dry. Whereas she was always full of energy. But I guess sometimes opposites attract.
I glanced at the party girls—Bianca and Sirena—on the dance floor. They bucked and writhed, each trying to outdo the other in the sexiness stakes. They moved like professional dancers without their poles. They made eyes at a nearby table with hot guys watching appreciatively.
I’m sure they wouldn’t mind providing a pole to dance with…
Hazel took my hand in hers. “We’re going to keep in touch, you know. I mean, I’ll only be three blocks away. We can still have our late-night movie marathons.”
She knew me so well. “I know.”
“I won’t be a ball and chain around your ankle anymore,” Hazel said. “Now you’re free to go and do whatever you want. How about those adventures you talk about? All those exciting trips you wanted to take? Maybe now’s the time to take them.”
I was a writer, trapped in my head. I went on adventures every day of the week. I lived them vicariously. I wrote about far-off places, daring swashbucklers, and maidens in distress. And, of course, a little of my patent steamy love scenes thrown in for good measure. My readers loved it, and I enjoyed writing it. But living it? Did I want to turn fiction into fact?
“You were never a ball and chain to me,” I said. “You were the one to encourage me to start writing in the first place.”
“Then why do you look so sad?”
I felt the waterworks behind my eyes. I fiddled with a damp tissue. “I guess I’m a little sad about losing you. All you guys are going to find husbands and have kids. I’ll be left alone.”
“That’s not true. I doubt Victoria will find a guy who’ll fall in love with her flatulence problem.”
I chuckled and dabbed at my eyes.
Hazel leaned in close. “But you know, it’s not exactly alchemy. Nobody knows they’re going to fall in love. It just sort of happens. And the only way for that to happen is to get out from your dank hole—”
“Hey! That’s my creative writing space you’re talking about!”
“—and meet somebody. Meet guys. Meet lots of guys. String them along for a while, use them if you want to. Believe me, they’ll be grateful. Keep doing that until you find one you want to spend more time with. Trust me, the guy you choose will be the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.”
How did she always know how to say the right thing? I did spend too much time alone. I looked forward to seeing her after work every day. We gossiped about her co-workers as if it were a real-life soap opera.
I glanced at the dance floor. Two of the hot guys from the nearby table had joined the girls. One ran his hands over Sirena’s voluptuous body, the other just stood there and held on tight as Bianca ground hard on him. He wore a huge grin on his face.
Amazing that they’d only met a few minutes ago, I thought. I knew I could never do something like that. I would end up falling flat on my face for one thing.
Hazel took a sip of her mojito. It spilled down her chin and she choked.
“Holy moly,” she said.
“What?” I said, tapping her on the back. “What is it?”
“Over your shoulder. No, your other shoulder.”
I looked. It didn’t take me long to identify who she was talking about.
“Now that is the kind of man you should be tripping over yourself to get to know,” Hazel said.
“Why?”
“Why? Can you even see this guy? Every girl in this place is eying him like a cat with their next favorite play toy. He makes Chris Hemsworth look like a seedy uncle.”
“I guess he does a bit,” I said, not paying much attention.
Hazel leaned in close. “You should go speak with him.”
I snorted. “Now I know you must be drunk.”
“I’m being serious. Why not?”
“Because… I’m not you. Or Sirena. Or even Victoria. At least she has spunk. I’m just me. I’m not you guys.”
“So, channel us a little and go out there and get your ass back in the game,” she said. “You don’t need to sleep with him. But if you do, I definitely want you to set up a live feed for me to watch later.”
“Hazel!”
“Just get his number. That’s your quest. Get his number. Bonus points if it’s genuine. I’m going to go dance with my fellow hussies. You get your ass up out of this chair and go talk to him right now. Get that number and I swear, you’ll feel a whole lot better afterward.”
“He’s… not my type,” I said
“He’s everybody’s type,” Hazel said. “I would go over there and talk to him myself if it wasn’t
