is shake my head and snag the spoon from her hands, popping a bite of ice cream into my mouth.
Christ. What kind of role am I going to be expected to play next time?
November 14th
Ava
The subway at rush hour should be avoided like the plague. Any New Yorker who’s worth their weight in salt knows this to be true. Unfortunately, always avoiding the subway during its busiest hours is entirely unavoidable.
Everything happens during rush hour.
Getting to work.
Leaving work.
Dinner with friends.
Cocktail hour.
My fourth TapNext date at an art gallery opening in Chelsea.
I wish I could say I’m excited about this date, but I’m not. Between smug Brian rambling about his boat, Abe trying to buy Whiskers—his cat that he brought on our date—a movie ticket and getting in a fight with the poor ticket-booth lady when she wouldn’t sell him the ticket, and Frank showing up in a fishnet muscle shirt to Starbucks, the expectation bar is at an all-time low.
Truthfully, I’m not sure it could get any lower. Plus, Luke has officially renounced himself as my way out of any more dates I may choose to go on.
I’ve put him through a lot, I’ll give him that—a fake injury with Brian, asking him to impersonate my doctor and tell Abe I only had one week to live, and pretending to be a jealous boyfriend who dragged me out of Starbucks in front of an agape Frank—but I wish he could just understand how hard it is for me to disappoint other people or how unwilling I am to go home for Christmas-wedding-reunion hell alone.
Though, I never seem to have that issue with him.
Why wouldn’t he just agree to go with me and play my fake boyfriend? Gah.
The A train’s brakes screech and squeak as it comes to a stop in front of me, and when I step through the doors, jockeying around the people exiting, I’m blessed with the familiar rush-hour vision—my fellow subway goers packed in like sardines.
Cheers to too many people crammed into a small metal tube, underneath the ground, which will be sent rocketing through New York’s underground subway tunnels!
Honestly, it’s enough to make any claustrophobe’s skin crawl.
Which, thankfully, I am not.
Already knowing that every seat is full, I choose a teeny-tiny spot toward the back of the car where I can use one of the silver metal poles to keep my balance if the ride gets bumpy.
It doesn’t take long before we’re off, the train picking up speed through the tunnels and heading toward my final destination in Chelsea.
The operator says something over the speakers, but like always, it sounds more like Marlon Brando talking with a mouthful of marshmallows while holding a microphone directly pressed against his lips than anything that could be deemed coherent.
Typical NYC subway.
The times you can actually hear what the operator is saying are so few and far between that most passengers just subconsciously tune out the muffled overhead voice. Unless the train comes to a complete stop in the middle of a dark tunnel. Then everyone listens. Or tries to listen. Or panics and starts asking everyone else if they can understand what is being said.
Now doesn’t appear to be one of those times.
The train continues to move, and I carefully pull my cell phone out of my favorite black leather crossbody purse without bumping into my fellow subway-sardines.
When I check the screen, I find three notifications from my mom.
Mom: Ava, I just ran into Callie at the bank, and she mentioned how she’s excited to meet your boyfriend…
Of course, she ran into Callie. You know, the very person who has been bombarding my email for the past two weeks about cakes and name tags and utter bullshit.
Mom: Did you forget to tell me something?
Mom: Ava Marie??? Hello????
On a sigh, I type out a response before she spams the shit out of me so much that I somehow manage to go over my unlimited text message plan.
Me: Oh yeah, Mom. I forgot to tell you that I just got back from a girls’ trip to Vegas where I met a Swedish man named Sven, fell in love, and got married. Mazel Tov!
Her response is immediate.
Mom: WHAT?
Me: He’s a really nice man, Mom. He had to go back to Sweden to run his Swedish Fish candy factory, but he’s already applied to get me citizenship so I can move to his country soon.
Mom: Ava Marie Lucie. You better be joking.
Me: Actually, it’s Ava Marie Skarsgard.
I think my favorite True Blood vampire,