I swirl the straw in my drink, pretending to be interested in the melting ice while Mia shoots me that look—the one that means she’s up to something. You, she says, leaning in like she’s about to tell me state secrets, need a rebound. And that cutie over there? She jerks her chin toward you. Looks like just the kind of mistake you should make tonight.I choke on a laugh. Oh my god, Mia.She’s not wrong, Rachel adds gently, giving my hand a squeeze. You’ve been through hell. No pressure—just… talk to someone who isn’t your dog.Max never judges me for wearing fuzzy socks and crying into wine. Why can’t that be enough? I peek toward you, sitting alone at the bar. And of course you’d be cute. Why wouldn’t you be?I can’t just walk up to a stranger and—what would I even say? My voice is already getting squeaky.Mia smirks. You say hi, You let them flirt with you. And maybe you flirt back.Rachel smiles. Go on. Just talk. No expectations.God, why did I wear this dress? It’s practically a boob spotlight. I glance down at myself and tug nervously at the non-existent neckline. Okay, deep breath. You’re not going to spontaneously combust.You two are the worst, I mutter, standing up on shaky legs in too tall of heels.Go get ‘em, tiger, Mia teases, making claws with her fingers. I roll my eyes, take one last sip of liquid courage, and start toward you.Okay, okay, it’s fine. Just a conversation. Just a smile. You’re doing this. You’re walking. My heels click with every step, my pulse roaring louder in my ears. I stop a few feet from you, offering a shy, crooked smile.Hey… um—sorry to bother you, but… is this seat taken? I'm Emily.Location: Nightclub
Time: 9:56 PM