"Again, not a date."

She quirked her head to the side. "So, you're not attracted to him?"

"Do you want to hear the end of this story or not?"

She grinned around a mouthful of donut. "Nice avoidance tactic, I like it."

"As I was saying, he fell asleep with his hand around my wrist and wouldn't let me go. I ended up sleeping on the floor. It was awful." I spooned another glob of strawberry yogurt into my mouth before continuing. "Not that this morning was notably better."

Harper waved for me to go on.

"It probably would have been prudent for me to have left when he woke up, but I just had to know what his deal was. Like, who does that?" I shrugged. "So, I asked."

Harper swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Don't leave me hanging, what did El Douche have to say?"

I shook my head and screwed up my face. "He said that he 'was nervous,'" I mimicked with sarcastic air quotes.

"Weird."

"I know, right?" I nibbled on my lip. "Who knows what his issue is."

Harper dove back into the box for donut number two, and I wondered whether she worked out like a fiend or had a seriously amazing metabolism that she could eat like that and still look the way she did. "Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? It's not like you're ever going to see him again."

"Well . . ." I drew the word out and avoided Harper's piercing stare by studying the ceiling.

"Bianca, come on." She dropped her head to the table with a thud. Lifting it up, she gave me an exasperated sigh. "The guy shows up late and s.h.i.t-faced. So s.h.i.t-faced in fact that you felt it necessary to make sure he got home alright. He then trapped you in his bedroom in his drunken stupor and forced you to spend the night on his floor. And you agreed to see him again?"

"There was just something about him, Harper."

"Well, it better be that he has a d.i.c.k the size of a small submarine."

I tossed my empty yogurt container in the garbage and rolled my eyes at her. "He asked if we could hang out again, and he just seemed so . . . unsure, maybe? It was strange, but now I'm just wondering if he doesn't have a lot of friends or something." I leaned back against the kitchen counter. "As for his . . ."

"Weiner," Harper supplied with a smug grin.

I made a face.

"What? Don't like that one? Stop me when I get to your preferred wording: man salami, c.o.c.k, meat whistle, dumb stick, s.c.h.l.o.n.g, pork sword-"

I cut her off with a laugh. "Please, stop. p.e.n.i.s is perfectly adequate."

Her eyes narrowed at me as she gave me a thorough stare. "You're not a virgin, are you?"

"Ah, no." I cleared my throat, thoroughly uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Harper was one of the nosiest people I'd ever met. She reminded me of Renee in that aspect. Maybe it was because she reminded me of Renee that it was so easy to be open with her. I cut off that train of thought before I really let myself consider the fact that I was trying to fill the Renee-sized hole in my life with Harper. "I took care of that in college."

"That's a very interesting way to word it." If anything, her eyes squinted at me even harder. You'd think the sun was out in full force and she'd forgotten her sungla.s.ses.

I sighed and shifted from foot to foot. "I decided it'd been long enough, so I took the situation into my own hands. I was working late one night at the tutoring center with another tutor, and given the opportunity, I, um, propositioned him."

She stared at me for a good thirty seconds before bursting out laughing. "I'm sorry. The image in my mind." She snorted. "You seriously propositioned him? Like a hooker? You didn't pay him, did you?" Her questions burst through her lips in rapid succession, like she was firing off a machine gun.

"No." I crossed my arms across my chest. "Then we had very mediocre s.e.x on top of a table that was less than memorable and thoroughly uncomfortable. We had a thing for a while, just s.e.x. Nothing serious."

"Science major?"

"Math."

Her eyes widened with glee. "How about I help you out here? Let me set you up with someone."

"Oh, no." I pushed away from the counter and paced around the kitchen. My hands itched for something to do, but of course all my dishes had already been washed and put away. Ah, but there was the dirty spoon from my yogurt. I hustled over to the sink to rinse off the singular piece of dirty cutlery. "Besides, it's probably better that I'm not seeing anyone."

"Right, the whole your-happiness-isn't-as-important-as-your-father's-career-aspirations thing. I forgot."

I stiffened, leaning against the edge of the counter with my back toward Harper. The faucet was still running, the cold clear water swirling wastefully down the drain. I slapped the handle, cutting it off. "I really appreciate you stopping by to check on me, but as you see I'm perfectly fine, just a little tired."

When I turned around, she had both eyebrows raised at me. She ignored my blatant attempt to end the conversation and swiftly changed the topic.

"So, this list you told me about. Can I see it?"

I gestured to where it hung on the refrigerator. "Help yourself."

The chair legs sc.r.a.ped against the floor as she shoved it back. Lifting the magnet off, she nibbled on her lower lip, reading the list. "Hm. I was expecting things like: travel to New Zealand, see the Eiffel Tower."

A tiny smile flit across my lips, there and gone in a flash. I dried my hands on the towel draped across the oven handle. "That's almost exactly what I said to Renee at the time. And she said to me"-I closed my eyes, remembering, hearing her voice echo in my mind-"'Big dreams are all fine and good, Bianca, but I want something I can sink my teeth into. I don't want to make a list of things that I have no possibility of accomplishing right now, this second, because what's the point? I'll just end up waiting for that elusive someday.'"

I didn't even notice I was crying until I felt Harper's fingertip graze my cheek. Her arms wrapped snugly around my shoulders, pulling me close. I sank against her, curling into her like I would a treasured blanket. Once I started, I couldn't stop. I sobbed into her T-shirt, dampening it with my tears.

I finally drew back, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Sorry about that. The sadness just sneaks up on me sometimes."

She squeezed my shoulder. "No worries, my friend. You're good? I kinda have to run if I'm not gonna be late to work, but if you still need me here-"

I waved her off. "No, I'm good. Don't be late because of me. Mick will throw a fit."

"Eh, he'd deal. He's resourceful like that." Plucking one last donut from the box, she headed for the door. "Oh, I almost forgot. That whole crash-a-wedding thing on your list. I've got a friend who works for an absurdly expensive catering company, I forget the name, but I'll have him keep an eye out for a wedding worthwhile of crashing, 'kay?"

I nodded. "I'll see you a little later. I'm on at four."

"See you then."

The door was halfway closed when she looked back one more time, smiling at me. "Math major." She shook her head, and I could hear her laughter even through the closed door.

Chapter 12: Bianca.

I groaned. "Oh my G.o.d, I think my blisters have blisters."

"Is everyone gone?" Harper thumped her head back against the wall. "Ow."

Hip resting against the prep counter, I yanked my sneaker off and rubbed the bottom of my foot. "No. One table left."

"That is so not sanitary, and," she pinched her nose, "your feet f.u.c.king stink."

I slipped the sneaker back on and laced it. "I honestly don't care. I'm this close to hacking them off, and hoping a prosthetic would be less painful."

"Well, who's the idiot taking yoga cla.s.ses after spending all day and night on her feet? Oh wait, that's you." She gave me an exaggerated eye roll.

"Once I get past this first week and get into a routine, it won't be nearly as bad."

"Sure it will." She shook her head, not even bothering to lift it from the wall. "Don't you ever get tired? Maybe want to just spend a day at home vegging out?"

I moved over to the dishwasher and removed the newly dry dishes, transporting them to their a.s.signed cabinets. "I go stir-crazy when I'm home alone. It's just like . . ."

"Like?" she prompted.

Looking down at the white ceramic plate I held in my hands, I surveyed my distorted reflection. "Like when I was back home. At least then there was Cynthia too."

"Cynthia?"

"The maid."

Shoving off from the wall, she grabbed the plate from my hand. "You were friends with your maid?"

"No. That would have been improper. But when I was doing homework, I could hear her b.u.mping around in the kitchen, or cursing when she stubbed her toe like she always did on the coffee table." Cursing that eventually got her fired when my mom overheard her. Her replacement wasn't nearly as friendly.

"Did you-"

My phone buzzed against my thigh from the depths of my pocket. I jumped practically a foot in the air, which surprised Harper enough that she dropped a plate on the metal counter with a loud bang. The plate saucered up and down, spinning until it finally came to a rest.

"What the h.e.l.l is your problem?"

I laid a hand over my heart, trying to keep it from bursting through my ribcage. "Sorry. My phone just went off. No one ever texts me while I'm here."

"Right, because I'm the only one who ever texts you," she said with a smug grin.

I dug into my pocket and pulled out my phone. "It's . . . Ian."

Peering over my shoulder, she read the text with me.

Ian: Hey, it's Ian. Any chance you're free for dinner on Thursday?

"You look surprised," Harper said. "Why are you surprised?"

"I didn't think he was actually serious about hanging out again."

Harper sauntered over to the kitchen door and peered out. No doubt checking on our last remaining table. They'd been here for hours, and I'd delivered their check to them nearly forty-five minutes ago. It was a toss-up whether they'd leave before we had to kick them out.

"Is there a reason you can't be friends with him? You do seem to be rather spa.r.s.e in the friends department."

"You mean other than the fact that I want to run my tongue over his abs? No, none at all."

That got her laughing. "That good, huh?"

I shrugged, trying to play it down. In truth, I was probably more attracted to him than I'd ever been to anyone else. Back home, the senator made it very clear that I was off-limits. Only the bravest of the brave had even bothered trying to befriend me, let alone try and date me. On top of that, my schedule had been so jam-packed that there'd been no time for dating anyway. Then, there'd been a few guys that made an effort in college, but I'd been too caught up in my schoolwork to bother wrenching my nose out of my textbooks. Besides, none of them made my mouth as dry as if I'd been wandering around the Sahara Desert without water for three days. Too bad Ian's thoughts toward me seemed strictly platonic. It figured.

"Doesn't matter anyway, I've got the dinner shift on Thursday."

"We'll switch. I'll do dinner, you do lunch."

"What's the catch?"

Harper shook her head and took a lap around the small kitchen. "Not all of us are slimy politicians, Bianca. Some of us just like to do nice things."

With my parents, every gift was tied with a caveat. It was hard rearranging my expectations to anything else. "Well, thanks, Harper. Now I just need to . . ."

I grabbed my phone and sent off a quick response.

Me: Sure. When? Where?

The phone buzzed in my hand seconds later, and Harper raised an eyebrow at the quick response.

Ian: Brady's Bar & Grill, you know it? Meet you there at seven?

Me: See you then.

Harper nibbled on her lip like she might a tiny piece of corn on the cob. "This guy, he's an enigma."

"Enigma?"

"Yeah, you know, like a puzzle, a-"

I waved her off. "I know what an enigma is. I meant why do you think he's an enigma?"

"The guy-"

"Ian," I interjected.

"Right, Ian. G.o.d, that's a s.e.xy name. I think every man I know with that name is one hot ball of s.e.xiness." She gave her head a brief shake, the long strands of her hair swinging from side to side in her ponytail. "Seriously, I cannot think of one guy named Ian who didn't win the genetic lottery. Especially-"

I held up a finger. "You're running off on a tangent again."

"Right. sorry," she barked out a laugh. "Back on point. The guy, I'm sorry, Ian, bombs your first night out. Claims he was nervous, right?"