wanting to dish the decidedly not-dirty details. I’m exhausted, that’s the truth. But then again, that’s nothing new. The life of an EMT is tiredness incarnate. Not that I’d change it for anything, but right now I feel the grumpiness of no sleep getting to me. And also Wyatt. And Angelo. And Angelo. And Angelo.
“This show looks fascinating,” I drawl. Anything to change the subject. “So she’s angry that the other woman planned a party without telling her first? Wow, riveting.”
“Bitch,” Zora teases.
“I’m sorry,” I say with theatric somberness. “I’m sure it’s a masterpiece of contemporary cinema. I just don’t have your refined critical palate.”
Zora toys with one of her hundred bracelets. “Don’t we get any tea? Hell, I haven’t been on a date in a month, at least.”
“There’s no tea,” I sigh. But even though Quinny is playing it quiet and cool, I know damn well that the two of them are like hyenas at the slaughter, thirsting over a cut of something juicy. So, before they tear me to bits, I give them a quick rundown of the date.
Quinny is shaking her head by the time I’m done. “That’s why I stick with girls,” she remarks.
“What?” Zora laughs. “There’s no such thing as a creeper girl?”
“Yeah.” Quinny grins. “But I’m usually the creeper.”
“Ew,” Zora laughs as she wraps her arms around Quinny. I realize they’ve been drinking. The empty box of wine lying on its side on the table like a tipped-over cow is proof of that.
“You’re not a creeper,” Zora continues, peppering Quinny with slobbery, unwanted kisses on the cheek. “You’re my beautiful little butterfly.”
Quinny disentangles herself, but she’s smiling. “There’s nothing little about me, darlin’.”
Zora fans herself with her painted fingernails, each one a different color. I can’t even imagine buying ten different shades of nail varnish. This is probably why I rely on Zora to set me up on blind dates with losers and she’s usually off gallivanting with the latest iteration of her handsome flavor of the month. “Oh, oh my, I do declare …”
They lean in towards each other, Lady and the Tramp-style, and then, at the last second, throw themselves backwards into wild laughter.
I can’t help but shake my head and laugh and eye the box of wine hungrily—well, thirstily.
I wonder if this is how it starts for Wyatt. He tells himself he’ll be good and then he’s with his friends and they’re all drinking and partying, and he thinks, Just one, just one. I wonder if that’s how his OD night started.
God, I’m morbid tonight.
“So,” Zora says, turning to me. “Are you going to, like, die celibate?”
I roll my eyes, wondering why I haven’t told them about Angelo. I guess it’s because I know they’d go crazy and want to know every excruciating detail. They’d pull it out of me one by one until there’s nothing left. Maybe I just want to keep the memories for me, our little self-contained universe.
But at the same time, I do want advice.
So I tell them half of the truth: we went for a drink, I ran into him at an accident. I leave out the crazy sex, for obvious reasons. “… But yeah, raging asshole. Cute, but asshole,” I finish.
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Zora says, only half-joking with the wildly over-the-top sighing noise she makes. “I’m sorry, but this sounds like fate.”
I can’t help but smile. “That’s what he says,” I tell her. “But he was being a Grade-A jerk to that lady. I mean, she did rear-end him, and apparently she was on her phone. But he was really giving it to her. Like a redheaded stepchild, you know?”
“Oh,” Quinny says, pouring more wine. “My heart bleeds for this road-texting angel.”
“Yeah!” Zora cries. “Who gives a shit? Listen, I haven’t seen your face light up like that since you graduated from EMT school. You’re into him, Dani.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have the time to be into anyone,” I tell her. “I work more than I sleep and I’ve got Wyatt to worry about. Getting involved on a serious level isn’t an option.”
“Okay, number one: who said serious?” Zora points out. “And number two: Wyatt’s a grown-ass man, last time I checked.”
“He might look like one,” I say. “But he is definitely not a grown-ass man.” I shake my head again. I’m tired. I just want to sleep and not to dream. To pass out hibernation-style, with a full belly and an empty head.
“If you have anything even approaching chemistry with this man,”