Anger.
Denial.
Depression.
Agony.
Is agony even part of the stages of grief? I can’t even tell, and I sure as hell don’t want to look it up. Instead, I stare at the phone, Joe’s words blurring as tears fill my eyes.
Honey Bunny
I think we should go ahead and break things off. I don’t mean to hurt you, but I just don’t see a future in us.
My hand shakes as I hold the phone closer, my fingers poised over the letters. What would I even say that wouldn’t sound like a whiny, desperate plea for him to not leave? I know we’d only been going out for about five months, but in that time, I’d grown closer to him than anyone else. In fact, the draw was downright scary.
Setting my phone to the side, I force that text out of my brain and instead concentrate on girl's night. What was going to be a fun night with my bestie to celebrate our friendship before Valentine’s Day is slowly becoming a binge and rant fest. Wiping my eyes, I activate my screen lock and shove the phone in my bra, wishing I could shove Joseph out as easily.
What the hell? The day before Valentine’s Day? Like, he couldn’t be a normal man and just wait one more freaking day? Shaking my head, I storm over to my kitchen and yank open the pantry. Perhaps if I allow myself, I can get back to anger and be done with it. I’m tired of just moping around and being pitiful, but my heart still hurts. With a hard pull, I grab a large bag of chips and stuff it into a travel bag on the counter. I don’t even bother with the wine since Stacy will have that in spades.
Throwing in a few more snacks, I yank the bag onto my shoulder and head out. Anger. That’s what I need to keep burning inside me right now. Indignation. I know we hadn’t been dating longer than most, but that wasn’t the point. The point was his timing more than sucked.
* * *
“No, girl!” Stacy holds up her wine glass, the pinks glinting in the light of the nameless romcom we put on. I don’t even know what we’re watching. It’s all background noise to me.
With a sigh, I reach over and grab a chip, waving off her offer of yet another glass. I don’t need to get that drunk. Getting drunk leads to bad decisions and late-night desperate calls. I’m already tipsy enough to do things I probably shouldn’t. “Yeah. Over text,” I mumble around the chip. “Freaking day before Valentine’s Day.”
“Wanna go over tomorrow really early and shave his head bald? I can do that!” With a giggle on her lips, she leans over the couch and picks up her purse, and rummages around for a few minutes before pulling out a battery-operated shaver.
“Are you serious? You just carry one around?” Despite the hurt slamming into my chest, I can’t stay depressed with Stacy’s antics. It’s just impossible.
“Hell yes, I’m serious. And Nate will be missing an eyebrow or two if he decides to act up.”
I place my hand over my heart and draw back in mock horror. “Oh no. Not the eyebrows.” After a bout of giggles, I stare back down into the potato chip bag as if it somehow has all the answers I’m looking for. “Still doesn’t make any of this feel better.”
Stacy gathers me into a hug and holds me, her grip firm about my shoulders. For the moment, it helps glue the pieces of my heart together and holds them in place. For the moment, I can breathe.
“You know what you need? A fuck buddy.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, someone to pound his memory away.”
“Look, if I wasn’t going to just hop into bed with Joe, there’s no way I’ll just let some stranger sleep with me. You know I’m not like that. I need a -.”
“Connection,” she finishes for me with a roll of her eyes. “And a connection is great, but look where it got you. Alone on Valentine’s Day.” She stares at me for a moment as if to whittle me down. “Fine. Maybe not sex, but you don’t need to be alone tomorrow. Here.”
She grabs my phone from off the table and starts fiddling with it, ignoring me as I swipe at her to get it back. With a smile, she hands it back, and I stare at the screen. It looks like some weird dating app, but not one I recognize.
“It’s V-Date!” She explains, pressing a few buttons to bring up a menu screen. “I used this last year before I met Nate. I don’t remember much of what happened that night, but I will say it rocked my world. There are no pictures. You match based on likes. Usually, you upload your info, then, by the end of the night, you have a date! It’s only active the day before and the day of Valentine’s. After that, the app is inactive until the next year.”
I pull my phone into my lap and stare at the questionnaire. It all seems like standard questions that don’t go too deep, which is fine for me. If I do this, I don’t want to give too much of myself away. Not for just a date for one day. Besides, there’s no guarantee it will go any further than that.
Shaking my head, I lean back and start to answer the questions, pointedly ignoring Stacy’s ecstatic bouncing. It’s bad enough that I don’t have an actual boyfriend for tomorrow; now, I have to resort to using some sketchy app just so I won’t be alone. Can I really do this? Is this really what I want?
Soon after putting in my information, I get a ding. Stacy leaps over and yanks the phone from my hand, her lips pulling up into a face-splitting grin. “You got matched so quickly! I can’t believe it! Well, yes, actually, I can. You’re a pretty awesome catch. Go ahead, chat with the guy!”
I grab my phone back and huddle into the couch, staring at the well-written message. It isn’t crude, or just some random pickup line like I was expecting. I don’t normally do this sort of thing. I don’t hook up with random guys, especially ones on a rando dating app.
My cheeks heat at the thought of throwing caution to the wind and actually giving this a shot. Or maybe it’s the heat from the alcohol. Either way, I feel bold. Definitely the alcohol. Perhaps I should put this off until I’m sober? Nah. The tipsy part of my brain wants to see where this goes, and I’ll be damned if I’m actually alone on Valentine’s Day.
A smile tugs at my lips as I think about how to respond. Should I even get my feelings involved at this point? Rory sounds like a really great guy. But let’s be honest, if he’s on an app like this, that means he’s single too. If he’s such a great guy, though, why is he also single? Someone that looks this good on paper has to be taken. Right? It could be he has an amazing personality yet some sort of physical deformity? If that’s the case, good thing I’m not shallow. I don’t exactly care what a guy looks like as long as he’s nice.
I’m overthinking things. I know I am, but I don’t know how to reconcile being dumped just hours ago to talking with a new guy. Besides, what do I have to lose exactly? It’s not like Joe even wants me back. He made that pretty clear with his message. Typing out my last line, I wait, my heart fluttering as I anticipate his response.
“Oooooh. Club Euphoria! That’s where my date met me! Dude, that place is exclusive! Wait. His name isn’t Trevor, is it?”
Laughing, I pull the phone to my chest, hiding our conversation from Stacy’s prying eyes. “No, it’s Rory.”
She pulls back, her nose wrinkling. “What kinda name is Rory? Who names their kid Rory?” Stacy shakes her head and leaps off the couch, her body practically vibrating with excitement. “I’ve been waiting for this for sooooo long! Makeover!”
Internally, I wince as she yanks on my arm, hauling me off the couch and towards her closet. I’ve been dreading this moment. Stacy’s choice of clothes is far more loud and risqué than mine. Which isn’t a bad thing. I don’t judge her for them; I personally don’t feel comfortable showing as much skin as she does.
Sure enough, the first outfit she pulls out is a barely-there number with just enough fabric to cover the pertinent bits. “Nope. Not happening.”
“Oh, come on!” She whines, her feet stomping in an adorable show of frustration. “It’s just for one night! Think of it this way, you’re Cinderella’s more free-loving twin!”
“No. I’m already feeling nervous about tomorrow. I don’t need to worry about a wardrobe malfunction on top of that.”
Rolling her eyes, she tosses the outfit to the floor and digs some more. Five more pieces fall to the floor after an emphatic shake of my head until finally, she pulls out something I don’t instantly hate. Though it’s certainly tight enough to show everything, it looks like it covers most of the body.
I pull it from her hands and hold it against me. This is certainly a compromise I can make. Walking over to the bathroom, I shuck my current outfit and slide the dress on. It slides over my skin like it’s made for me, hugging every curve in just the right way. Looking up at the mirror, I can’t help but feel a little breathless.
I look wanton, powerful, a seductress.
