I sprint to the kitchen, hearing the hilarity continue behind me as I turn on the hot water. After scrubbing my hands and arms until they’re red and raw, I stomp back into the living area to find my crazy friends still chuckling.

“This. Never. Happened,” I demand, pointing a stern finger at each of them.

Everyone is silent for a few beats before Gemma pipes up with, “But we’ve shared something special here tonight. I feel so close to you right now, Libs.”

JoJo covers her mouth and then snorts behind her hand. “Yeah, I think you two may actually be married in some third-world countries.”

I scowl, and Ava pats my arm. “Don’t be mad. We’re just teasing you.” And then under her breath mumbles, “Lubey Libby.”

“Ha ha, fuckers,” I say, a giggle bubbling up from my throat. There’s always extreme ridiculousness when we get together.

JoJo refills our glasses once more, and her pour is becoming increasingly heavy on the vodka.

She lifts her glass again. “Here’s to alcohol, which makes us see double and feel single.”

Ava giggles as we drink. “We are all single now.”

My nose scrunches up. “I’m not sure how I feel about getting back into the dating scene.”

JoJo leans her head against the back of her chair and stares at the ceiling. “It’s horrible. Men are intolerable. I suggest you forget about dating and orbit your own Venus, if you know what I mean. Stock up on vibrators. You can borrow some lube from Gemma.”

I take a healthy swallow of the vodka with a splash of wine, my limbs feeling loose and soft. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“No, Lubey Libby. We’re not,” Gemma replies. “And back to the subject at hand, JoJo is right. Dating sucks. Why can’t we find men like the ones we write about in our books?”

“Fuck if I know,” JoJo wails. “Is it too much to ask to have a man with a big, hard body, some well-placed tats, and a mouth that would make a hooker blush?”

“One with an actual job and a maturity level that’s a few notches higher than a prepubescent chimpanzee,” Ava adds.

“Someone who is honest andloyal,” I mutter, thinking of Logan.

Gemma rings her finger around the rim of her wine glass. “There needs to be some kind of boot camp for guys where they’re trained to be book boyfriends.”

Everyone giggles at the thought, and I stand, my back ramrod straight as I take on the demeanor of a drill sergeant. Picking up a forgotten chopstick from the coffee table, I march behind the couch and tap JoJo on the top of the head.

“You! Lean against that door frame and look longingly at me. And make it sexy!”

She grins as she hops up and hurries over to the door of the small kitchen, lifting her arms over her head to grasp the top of the entrance. Her eyelids drop, and she licks her lips and flashes me a sultry look.

“Excellent, recruit. I can tell you’ve been practicing that.” I point my chopstick at Ava. “You, there! Tell me I’m a good girl.”

She fights a smile and says, “You’re such a good girl, Libby.”

“No, no, no!” I bark. “That was weak, Costa! You have to growwwwl! Make me feel it!”

When she starts laughing, I give her my best glare, hands on hips until she schools her expression. With her voice as low as she can make it, she growls, “You are such a good… fucking… girl, Libby.”

“By damn,” I drawl, “that was pretty impressive, Costa. You almost made my panties wet.”

She splutters out a laugh, and I whirl around to Gemma, brandishing my stick. “Fairchild, give me a pet name. Now!”

“Ahhh, la mia piccola tigre,” she purrs before translating. “That’smy little tigerin Italian.”

I give a curt nod, keeping in character. “I like it. Bonus points for using a foreign language. I’d totally fuck you at this point.”

She gnaws on her bottom lip to keep from laughing as I stroll back over to JoJo and demand, “Estes, what’s my coffee order?”

“Macchiato with one cream and two-and-a-half sugars, ma’am.”