Page 25 of Luck of the Draw

Leaning my head back against the headrest, I fought a new batch of tears. “Because he was on a video chat with his family in his room, and it would have been pretty awkward to poke my head in and say, ‘Hey, my ride’s here. Thanks for theamazingone-night stand. Can I borrow your shirt?’ Then wave to his very large Italian family and leave.”

“You know about his family?” She shook her head. “Girl, you donotknow how one-night stands work.”

“I was out sick the day they covered that in health class back in high school, okay?” I said, exasperated. “How the hell am I supposed to know how to have a one-night stand?”

She made a face, keeping her eyes on the road. “I don’t know. It seems pretty self-explanatory to me. You sleep with the guy. You do your walk of shame the next morning, wearingyour own clothes. No hasty getaways. No staying until past noon.” Her face lit up, and she turned to face me. “Now tell me what happened. Every detail. Start with last night.”

So I did. I told her about seeing Dylan at the bar and how he’d slid the heels onto my feet and then led me to the dance floor.

“Girl, you two were on fire,” she gushed, shaking her head. “The lady at the table closest to you was literally fanning herself.”

My face flushed with embarrassment.

“So he invited you over for a drink?” she asked with a wink.

“Nooo…” My face and chest grew hot, and my shoulders hitched up to my ears. “I asked him to take me home.”

She screeched the car to a halt in the middle of the street and turned to face me, her eyes as wide as donut holes. “Deeandra Bowers. You. Did.What?”

Horror washed through me. “I know. Shameful.”

“The hell it is!” she shouted, then threw her arms around me, hugging me tight. “I’m so stinking proud of you! You saw something you wanted, and you went for it.” She released me and sat back in her seat. “So you talked to Dottie and texted me, then went back to his place and he screwed your brains out?”

My face was on fire. “Sort of.”

A car behind us honked, and she threw an exasperated glance at her rearview mirror, then started driving again.

“Can I just take a single moment to celebrate the fact my best friend just got laid?” She shot me a glance. “Now explain what ‘sort of’ means.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t one to share details of what went on in the bedroom, mostly because I hoped my partner wouldn’t tell the embarrassing stories aboutme. But it seemed okay to givesomeinformation. “Okay.He did.Many.Times.Last night. In the middle of the night. This morning and this afternoon. In his bedroom. His sofa. On his kitchen counter. His shower. Against his living room wall…”

“Now you’re just bragging,” she said in mock disgust.

I supposed I was. “What about you and the guy you were hanging out with last night?”

“Nothing. He got embarrassingly drunk, and threw up on the shoes of the bride’s brother’s girlfriend. The brother punched my date in the nose, and then my guy fell on top of the wedding cake.” She scrunched her nose. “You know how much I hate cake icing. I certainly didn’t want to lick it off him.”

I stared at her in shock, wondering if it was Blue’s shoes that had been ruined. “Besides, it’s hard to take a guy who wants to build self-driving cars for dogs seriously.”

“I thought you didn’t want to takeanyman seriously,” I said. “I thought you wanted to have fun.”

“I do, but I’m not a teenager. A guy needs more than hot looks to capture my attention. Half a brain would be nice. And maybe I’m just being choosy, but I’d prefer if he wasn’t covered in buttercream frosting.” She glanced at me and then back to the road. “So why the text and the hasty getaway? Did he not want to take you home?”

“He didn’t know I was leaving.”

“What?” She screeched to a halt again, and the driver behind us laid on his horn. “Oh, my God!” she shouted, throwing her hands up. “I’m having a moment!” Then she pressed the gas pedal and continued forward.

“Maybe you should pull over.”

“I’m fine. I suspect I’m all out of shock. Now tell me why you snuck out.”

“I don’t know,” I said, close to tears again. “It seemed easier than saying goodbye.”

“So he made it clear that he didn’t want to see you again?”

I thought about standing with him in the bathroom right before he took his call. “No. I don’t know.”

“What exactly did he say?”

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