Page 1 of Ready Or Not

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Awkward - ChewieCatt, Chewie

The pit stains under my arms feel so big there’s no way my date can’t see them. I should have known better than to try and socialize. Ben, the date in question, laughs at something he said, although I haven’t been paying attention. He raises his eyebrows at me and continues laughing, so I assume he told a joke.

I force a laugh.

“You should have seen their faces.” Ben slaps the bar countertop next to his third empty glass, making me jump. He waves two fingers at the bartender. “Another.”

Hell, no. I hate every second of this, and I pick at the sticky countertop. I want to go home. Home where the music isn’t blaring so loud, my clothes don’t stick to my skin, and the furniture doesn’t feel like it has years of sticky beer all over it.

I suck in a breath. But I can’t go home. I owe it to Cali. She disappeared a week ago, and I can’t get any information on her. The cops won’t talk to me, her family won’t talk to me, and there’s just…nothing. Nothing except her final phone call to mesaying she was in trouble. She asked me to meet her, then just…poof. Gone.

The bartender slides another drink to Ben.

Ben, aka Cali’s ex-boyfriend. The one who was wildly suspicious at the time of her disappearance.

I haven’t slept in a week.

So I did something stupid.

Something utterly idiotic, given that I fit into society like a two-by-four in a pack of colored pencils. Also, given the fact that I hate people and make either aggressive eye contact or none at all.

I invited Ben on a date.

Yeah, the Ben who has anger issues and the Ben who Cali broke up with a week before she disappeared.

Everyone is telling me it’s nothing, that Cali’s just taking a break after her breakup, but after her frantic call to me, I’m sure there’s foul play.

Cali used to work with me at the hair salon and was always nice to me despite the fact I never really seemed to fit in. She had wild, curly hair, a loud mouth, and a massive fucking attitude. She cussed out many customers who gave me shit and stood up for me to our boss. I fucking loved her.

The bartender sweeps back over our way like a breath of fresh air. Ben’s saying something about the sports game on the TV, but I lock on the woman in front of me like a lifeline. She has on a crop top with ghosts and the word “boo-bies.” The shirt barely contains her breasts, and they damn near spill out of the top. I wish my tits looked like that. If they did, I’m pretty sure I could navigate all social situations with a shimmy of the titties and a smile. No pit stains anywhere in sight.

Something nudges my arm, and I jump. It’s Ben. “You’ve barely had any.” He motions at my glass of wine.

I try to pretend like I’m loving this and plaster on a smile, taking another drink.

“So…” Ben takes another look at me, and I realize he keeps staring at the blue streaks in my dark hair. “You live alone?”

“Yep,” I respond, popping the p. As soon as the word is out of my mouth, I realize he probably asked for something other than a factual answer. I glance over at him.

“Good, ‘cause I’m crashing with my parents right now.” Ben’s face is flushed red, and his hair is pale blonde. It looks sweaty. He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Wanna get out of here?”

Jesus. Dread washes through me, but I struggle to keep it off my face. This is exactly what I wanted to happen. If I can get him drunk and comfortable, maybe he’ll talk. And if not, at least at home I have a block of kitchen knives. If it came to it, I wonder how hard it would be to push a knife through his skin? I suppose that would entirely depend on the sharpness of my knives.

“Uh, hello?” Ben waves a hand in my face.

Fuck. I must be doing that thing again where my face goes blank while I’m thinking. I plaster on a smile and drop off my stool, “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Hold up,” Ben slaps his hand down on the counter. “Need my card.”

The bartender glances over at me, and I imagine all she’s seeing is a girl falling out of her chair to go home with a mediocre frat guy. Just another Wednesday.

I wince.

“Let’s go.” Ben grabs my elbow, and I yank it away from him. Immediately, I laugh awkwardly, skirting away from him and picking at the skin around my nails. I don’t want him to touch me again.

As soon as we get to the parking lot and are surrounded by the hot, dry air, I realize that Ben’s drunk, and we drove separately. And he’s gonna have to come to my house.

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