Opposites Attract - Jessica Prince
To all the quirky, nerdy, slightly eccentric women out there.
Because who wants to be normal? That’s just boring ;)
WHAT THE HELL was I doing?
As I scanned the dimly lit club, packed full of gyrating bodies that reeked of cheap cologne and too much perfume, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was actually stuck in the seventh circle of hell. Sweat was running into cracks and crevices I didn’t want to think about, and my eyes itched something fierce.
“Stop that!” my best friend Devon reached over and smacked my hand away from my eye.
“Will you quit hitting me?”
“Then quit digging at your eyeballs like you’re trying to pop them out!” she snapped before picking the shot glass up off the table and slamming the tequila down like a seasoned pro.
“I can’t help it,” I whined. “These contacts are driving me crazy! I don’t understand why I couldn’t have just worn my glasses.”
Devon braced her hands on the table and focused on me. “Because,” she spoke firmly, despite the copious amounts of booze we’d been ingesting for the past hours. “The goal for tonight is sinfully sexy, not adorably quirky.”
“But—” I began to argue, only to have her continue like I hadn’t said anything.
“And while there are men out there who can appreciate the day-to-day Delilah in all her cute glory, the purpose of tonight is to find a hot, well-hung man to clean your pipes and get your mind off that stupid bastard with hours and hours of meaningless sex. And the sad fact is, one-night stands just don’t go for adorable.”
My nose scrunched up at her remark. “Sweet Jesus, Devon. I’ll give you twenty bucks to stop referring to my lady bits as pipes. Every time you say it, I feel like I should call a plumber or something.” I reached over and snatched a shot glass off the table and downed it.
She hummed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you should. Lord knows your douche-bag ex wasn’t giving it to you good enough.”
“That’s not tr—” I began to argue, only to have her shoot me a look that said, “Keep lying to me. I dare you.” “Okay, so it’s true,” I finally relented.
Devon nodded satisfactorily. “That’s why I posted all over social media that he suffered from ED.”
My eyes went wide, my mouth hanging open. “You didn’t!”
“Sure the hell did!” she shouted proudly. “And I regret nothing. That shit-for-brains deserves so much worse for what he did to you. Now,” she pushed another shot glass in front of me, “drink up like a good little girl, and let’s find you a man you won’t have to ask, ‘Is it in yet?’”
I groaned and dropped my head onto the tabletop. “I don’t want to do this, Dev,” I complained. “I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life. I don’t want to start now. Waking up with VD or something isn’t my idea of fun.”
She smacked my shoulder and forced me to look at her. “Delilah Marie Buchanan, you have had sex with exactly one person, and he turned out to be a cheating asshole who ran around New York sticking his micro-penis in anything that offered.”
“Wow,” I deadpanned. “When you put it that way, my life doesn’t sound pathetic at all.”
“Drink.” She shoved more tequila in front of me and I drank willingly, hoping to forget this night completely. “It’s not pathetic. You’re a good person who put your trust in a man who wasn’t worthy of it. I’m here to make sure you get back on the horse — preferably one with a big ol’ dick one — instead of moping around your apartment with your head stuck in a bag of Doritos.” She slapped her hand on the table, pumped up from her so-called pep talk. “Now, say it with me… I’m getting laid tonight.”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Say it!”
I rolled my itchy eyes and let out a puff of air. “Fine. I’m getting laid tonight.”
“Louder!”
“I’m getting laid tonight,” I repeated a few octaves higher than the first time.
“Like you mean it, Del!”
“I’m getting laid tonight!” I finally shouted, the effects of the tequila and Devon’s influence jacking me up in a way that would undoubtedly lead to some very poor decisions.
“Not with you!” Devon snapped at the guy who’d overheard my declaration and had taken it upon himself to approach the table. “Go away. Shoo!”
Once the man scurried off, tail between his legs, she threw her arm over my shoulder and, together, we surveyed the massive crowd of