Eva Galvez 3:59 PM:
I’ve already accepted that my latest Tinder hookup has ghosted me. I have a date at the Wildrose on Valentine’s. Big old lesbian dance party. I hope you’re not getting ghosted, Rachel. You’re probably not though.
Rachel Weiss 4:08 PM:
Oh my god, AM I getting ghosted?
Eva Galvez 4:09 PM:
Sorry. Shouldn’t have mentioned it.
Rachel Weiss 11:18 PM:
Stephen is still not following me on Instagram!
CHAPTER 5
I WAS NEVER LEAVINGmy apartment again. Leave it to me to have one of the top five most mortifying experiences of my life while my best friends were off having romantic Valentine’s Day evenings like true adult women.
Amy was having dinner at Copine with her husband. Eva was at a dance party. Sumira had deigned to let the youth—Ajay—take her out. (I told her not to toy with his young heart, but alas.) And I? I had decided to embrace my status as a nearly-thirty spinster. My vagina, and my heart, were closed for business. Love and fuckboys were all behind me.
So naturally I decided to do a self-care night. Face mask, manicure, solo dance party, the works. I biked over to PCC for supplies.
There were happy couples everywhere. Strolling down the sidewalk holding hands in their scarves and coats. Inside steamy, candlelit restaurants. Groping each other outside of bars. One man started shout-singing at me as I rode past—some pervy song about a girl on a bicycle. So at least I had that going for me.
I slouched through the store, tossing the necessary items into my basket—a bottle of red, a frozen pizza, a box of brownie mix, microwave popcorn, and a bag of cookies. They were having alittle wine tasting—clever marketing, perfect for singles with nowhere to go like myself—so I got in line. I was patiently, if a little sadly, staring into space while waiting for my turn to have a free minuscule paper cup of rosé, when I heard my name.
“Rachel?”
I jumped. It was a deep man’s voice, and even if it took me a second to recognize it, every fiber of my being recoiled at the thought of a man I knew seeing me like this.
“I thought that was you.” It was Christopher Butkus, approaching with a smile. He was also trailed by an offensively beautiful girl of ambiguous racial identity—all tan skin, Bambi eyes, and blinding white teeth. I saw her eyes flick from my bike helmet (which I was still wearing, thinking it preferable to squashed helmet-head curls) over my bare face to my basket of sad snacks.
“Oh, Christopher. Didn’t see you there. Hello.”
“This is Xio. Xio, Rachel. How are you?” He was making intense, unfaltering eye contact. Had he done that the first time we met too? Was he one of those people? I felt like a deer caught in his headlights.
“Fine, fine.” I tried to inject some airiness into my voice. I noticed the two of them were not holding hands. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Xio smiled dazzlingly and inched closer to Christopher. I peered behind them to check how close I was to my wine sample. The line seemed to have stalled. Of course, lonely singles drinking free wine were apt to make small talk.
“You too. Do you have any plans or—well…” Christopher trailed off, seeming to notice my state of disarray and the contents of my basket.
I laughed and mumbled something about friends waiting for me at my apartment. Xio wrinkled her brow pityingly.
“So you live around here too?” Christopher was being very friendly; perhaps he knew I’d overheard him trash-talking my family and wanted to make amends.
“Um, yes, just over…” I pointed a vague finger over my shoulder.
“Cool! We’re neighbors then. Just like our parents. Y’know, it’s funny, I thought I saw you the other day… Do you run?”
“Run?” I glanced at Xio’s toned physique and considered lying. “Um, no?”
“Huh. I could’ve sworn it was you. You were wearing neon yellow and you looked a bit… overheated.” Christopher chuckled. “I almost stopped you to offer you some water.”
My nostrils flared with a sudden rush of understanding. He must have seen me during my hot-yoga-induced blackout. Right. Of course he did.
“Hmm…” I feigned confusion. “Oh, my line’s moving, so I’ll just… good to see you, Christopher. Xio…”
