“He broke up with that girl,” she says.
“You already told me that two months ago. Was there another girl or something?”
She shakes her head, a smile playing at her lips. “Nope. Just thought I’d remind you.”
I cross my arms. “I’m well aware.”
She picks up her phone, playing around with it for a moment before she sets it next to herself. She looks back up at me. “Maybe you can stop running away from him now.”
“I’m not running away from him. I just have nothing to say to him. He’s a total douchebag. Whether or not he has a girlfriend doesn’t change that.”
It’s been a year since Oliver showed up and ruined everything. He’s Ryan’s best friend, and since Ryan lives withmybest friend, he’s been a little hard to avoid. I met him when he moved back to our city after living abroad for a couple of years after college. Tina introduced us with the hope that we would get together. She forgot to mention that he’s kind of a dick. He always has something rude to say. I can’t stand him.
“You’re not exactly nice to him, either,” Tina argues. “You two hit it off so well that first week. I still don’t understand what happened. He was only repeating what Ryan told him.”
“You’re right. I guess that makes Ryan a douchebag.”
Tina groans. “It’s kind of funny when you think about it.”
It’s really not that funny to me. There was a time when I thought that Oliver was ridiculously good-looking. He has the face of a movie star and the type of body that I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve fantasized about once or twice. It’s not that hard—all I have to do is imagine he has a completely different personality.
When I met him that first week, I thought that he was nice. He was cute and charming. I’m embarrassed to admit that there was a time, however short it was, that I actually thought I liked him. But then Tina and I got drunk one night, and I told her that I was obsessed with him. I thought it was harmless enough. I wasn’tactuallyobsessed. It’s just one of those things you say to a friend when you like someone. It’s obviously not something I wanted him to hear, and if I hadn’t downed four strawberry margaritas, I might not have said it to Tina, either.
Tina reported this to Ryan, though, and then Ryan told Oliver. I can’t really hold it against Tina. She was living with Ryan at that point, and I knew that she told him everything. I think she hoped that Oliver and I would get together and then the four of us could go on double-dates.
The next time I saw Oliver, he greeted me with a cocky grin and said, in front of everyone at the bar: “So. You’re obsessed with me, huh?”
That was the moment that ruined him for me. Whatever attraction I thought was there was gone the instant he said that. He was so smug about using my drunk confession to embarrass me. Everyone in the room had laughed except for me.
“It’s not funny,” I say to Tina now. “And I don’t need constant updates on who he is or isn’t dating.”
“You’re going to have to face him eventually. He’ll be at my wedding. We both know Ryan is going to choose him to be his best man.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” I stand up. “I should probably head home.”
I head to the laundry room to take my clothes out of the machine. Tina follows me. “Why? Stay for dinner.”
“I can’t.” I drop the robe and dress myself. My clothes are clean and dry and warm.
“Why not?” Tina asks.
“Because I’m sure Ryan is on his way home right now and Oliver is with him.”
I can tell by the stupid smile on Tina’s face that I’m right. I know that she was texting Ryan a couple minutes ago when she was playing with her phone. She probably told him that I’m here and to bring Oliver.
He’s the last person I want to see on the day that I’ve been fired from my job. I need to get out of here.
“Wait. Before you go,” Tina says. “Have you thought about what I offered?”
I chew on my lip. “I have. And I’m open to it. But are you sure that’s what you want?”
She nods. “Of course. I mean, you don’t have to commit to starting your own business just because you’re helping me with this. You could always take the profits after all this is over and put them in savings and get an entry-level job booking caterers like the one you just got fired from.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“I’ll write a deposit right now, if that’s what you need. And I’ll even give you my credit card to make any purchases that need to be made. I don’t expect you to pay for anything out of pocket.”
She turns around and digs through her purse, then comes back to me with her checkbook.
