Girl Crush(45)

He hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me into his chest. The smell of sunshine and man radiated off him as I inhaled deeply, trying to memorize his scent. I wasn’t sure what to do with my arms, so they hung lifelessly by my side with my hands lightly on his waist. “Sounds perfect. I love that you’re like one of the guys.”

Insert ice water to the ego here.

I pushed away and told him I would go get my stuff and shook off his brotherly affection. When I returned, he’d contacted his friends who were in route, and made suggestions about takeout we could pick up on the way. After proposals for fried chicken, Italian food, and burgers—none of which I was willing to partake in—I finally told him to pick, and I’d figure something out.

“Is it the meat thing?” He seemed confused over my unwillingness to make a decision on dinner.

I hated this. Men never understood, and I sounded like a snob or a health fanatic. Neither of which were accurate. I rolled my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried my best to explain. “I try not to eat out much and avoid carbs altogether. I eat meat but not beef or pork.”

“So you’re just a picky eater?” He laughed, which annoyed me.

“No. I didn’t say I don’t like those things. They’re not healthy. If I have to choose between a vegetarian dish and running another mile in the morning, then I choose the healthier alternative hands down. And I will trade in food for a glass of wine every chance I get—well, in moderation.” I huffed, exasperated by my omission. “I’m almost out of my thirties, Collier.” I would not let the next decade roll from my lips. “And I have to fight the aging process.”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, and in my mind, I could hear Ronnie in my head, laughing at my immaturity.

“Have you tried Greens? It’s a vegetarian place down on Altamont. We can swing in there.” He didn’t argue or give me a ration of shit.

“What about your friends?”

Collier shrugged before responding. “They’re all getting fat anyhow. They could stand to lose a few pounds.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door and escorted me to his car.

“You’re so full of crap. None of them has even a hint of a weight problem. They’re going to be pissed.”

“Not if you carry in the bags.” He roared with laughter at his devious plan. I would get to be the bad guy because none of them would say anything to me. “Watch, they’ll all tell you how much they love whatever you pick, too.”





10





Thursday morning, sitting at my desk while applying my latest OPI color, “The Berry Thought of You,” my phone buzzed with a message. Once again, I was tasked with holding down the vacant fort at the office with nothing to do. Texting with wet nails was tough to do as I attempted to press the letters with the pads of my fingers without touching the tips to the glass.

Roma: Friday night at 8 pm. Bar None. Stella said to tell you to invite Roxie and Ronnie.

I hadn’t heard from Roma since the car show and had hoped she’d forgotten about hanging out. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her; I didn’t want Collier finding out we’d done something and think it was more than friendship. But I liked Roma and knew we’d have a good time. My dating life had gone to shit, there wasn’t a man or woman interested in me romantically, and I had nothing better to do.

Me: Sounds good. Are we meeting there?

Roma: Yep. See you then.

I sent texts to Roxie and Ronnie who both jumped at the chance at a night out. Amy and Trish would tag along, and Beck and Stella would be there as well. Which left Roma and me. Truthfully, I was grateful to have another single woman to add to the pack. Yes, she was considerably younger than the rest of us, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t be the only one flying solo, the seventh-wheel—Roma evened out the group and kept me from hanging in the wind…even if it might further complicate things with Collier.

The following day lingered, and I’d fallen asleep at my desk twice, only to be woken up by the phone ringing and drool on the corner of my mouth. Thankfully, no one had come into the office to find me catnapping. I really needed to be more driven. I was still in my thirties. Lots of people started new careers at my age. My eyes rolled, and I realized there wasn’t anything that interested me that was worth starting over somewhere else. I’d always loved that my job didn’t require late nights or weekends—I got to leave everything at the office—but recently, the lack of anything substantial in my life had started to make me second-guess that complacency…although, not enough to do anything about it.

I locked up and left promptly at five o’clock and stopped by to see Mrs. Grobin to grab a bottle of wine before going home. Ronnie offered to pick me up, which meant I could have a glass of wine while I dressed. When I got home, I grabbed some leftover veggie salad out of the fridge, poured myself a glass of vino, and turned on the stereo. One glass turned into three, which I would regret tomorrow morning, but that didn’t matter right now.

I opted for a shower since I had time to spare, and it would give my hair considerably more volume if it were clean and freshly blown out. The lavender scent of shampoo hung in the bathroom while I shaved my legs. And then again when I put on my favorite lotion before dressing. My attire was a debate—part of me wanted to go all out, dress for the scene, but the other part, the one that won, wanted to dress more casually…more my age. I opted for a mix of the two, leaning more toward comfort than fashion. I firmly believed a woman should never leave the house without looking her best—chance encounters could happen anywhere—but at the same time, hanging with seven lesbians would likely put a damper on any personal party I might have.