Page 7 of Butterfly Effect

The cozy vibe calls for a comfort watch. I flip the TV on and stream a favorite: the one in the quaint little town in the northeastern United States where everyone knows everyone’s business, quirky side characters are always up to no good, and the mom and daughter talk way too fast.

A dark-haired dreamboat who talks out of the corner of his mouth and reads on park benches throughout the aforementioned quaint town appears on the screen, leaving behind his book to follow around a girl like a puppy.

“Damn,” I say through a cheesy bite. “Where are these men in real life?”

I frown at myself, gushing over an on-screen teenager. Google confirms he was twenty-four when they started filming his part, which makes me feel a little better. A little.

“Twenty-four? That’s way too young for you, Finch. Been there, rode that. Never again.”

At thirty-one, there’s no more time to waste on immature jerks and mediocre dick. Or on immature jerks with excellent dick.

Especially not when they’re irritatingly hot goalies. Or named Wade Boehner. The man loves making my work life hell by being unprofessional any chance he gets. It’d been a mistake to kiss him at a New Year’s Eve party, but the night we’d spent after Indi’s wedding surely cleared our systems once and for all.

Like answering a distress signal, a text notification from my best friend pings my phone.

Indi

Text me SOS if your date sucks, and I’ll call to bail you out.

Indi

Or the kitty cat if it’s going well.

Me

How much wine have you had?

Indi

Enough hehe

Hehe? Marriage has truly changed her.

Me

Isn’t it 2 a.m. in Italy?

Indi

Never too early for wine in this country!

Me

Oh boy.

Indi

Don’t judge us! We’re on vacation and haven’t gone back to the hotel yet from dinner

Me

You’re right, you should be having fun!

Me

And I’m already home, watching Gilmore Girls.

Indi

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