Page 46 of 10 Days to Ruin

I throw my hands up. “What does that even mean?”

Gina slaps her hands together. “Let’s do a postmortem. Break down last night. Where do you think things went wrong?”

Aside from letting Mr. Big, Bad, and Brooding feel me up all over?“Hand to God,” I say, “I have no idea. I did everything you’re not supposed to do on a date: I was picky, passive-aggressive, thoughtless…”

“In what ways?”

“I didn’t finish a single course,” I say. “He took me to this fancy-schmancy French restaurant, and I pretended everything there sucked ass. Which itsodidn’t.” I can still taste the single nibble of hors d’oeuvres I took.

God, goat cheese is to die for.

“So you were a spoiled bimbo?” Gina barks out a laugh. “Babe, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but those are the types of women that men like Sasha wife up by twenty-one. That’s their brand.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?!” I exclaim. “I’m out of ideas, guys.”

“We don’t need a new plan. Trophy wives have torpedoed empires with way less. Your game is just weak, Ward.”

I’m about to swat Gina again when Lora’s hand flutters up like an eager kindergartener. “I think I might have something.” She leans in conspiratorially. “So last summer, I met this really sweet commodities trader at my sister’s wedding. He had the most gorgeous green eyes, and when we danced, he told me all about his yacht in Sag Harbor.”

“But you scared him off,” Gina predicts, dunking a macaron in her coffee.

“No!” Lora protests. Then she wilts. “Well… maybe? I just got so excited. I made him a care package for our second date with his favorite snacks and a little photo album of pictures from our first date. And I might have mentioned that my Pinterest wedding board already had our couple aesthetic picked out…”

I wince. “Oh, Lora.”

“I know! I know.” She sighs dreamily. “But you should have seen his yacht, you guys. I already had names picked out for our future children. I was thinking Sebastian for a boy, after the boat. Get it? Like,Seabastian?”

“Kill me,” Gina mutters so only I can hear her.

Lora twirls her hair. “Anyway, he stopped answering my calls after I showed up at his CrossFit class with matching ‘Soulmate’ water bottles. And then at his office with chicken soup when I heard he had a cold. And then at his mom’s house to introduce myself…”

Gina goes preternaturally still. “Wait. You’re a genius.”

Lora blinks. “I am?”

“Not on purpose, but yes.” She leans over the table, a wicked grin smeared across her face. “Men want a hunt, Ari. Especially men like Sasha. So don’t be a rabbit—be a werewolf.”

I blink at her in confusion. “I do not follow.”

She clutches my wrist, her bangles shaking. “We’ve been going about this all wrong! You don’t just be a brat—youmesswith him. Get him hot and bothered under that pretty Armani suit. Show up at his office all sexy librarian, bend low over his desk, whisperexactlywhere you want his hands in your best Jessica Rabbit voice—then peace out. Noadios,no follow-through. Let him stew there with blue balls and a spreadsheet.”

“At hisoffice?” I squeak.

The thought terrifies me. I’m picturing corporate boardrooms filled with black leather riding crops and I really, truly feel like that’s at least mostly accurate.

“At his office,” Gina confirms. “Men’s brains short-circuit when you invade their turf. Trust. I once gave a handjob to a VP in the Duane Reade stockroom during his lunch break and didn’t even let him finish. He texted me sonnets for weeks.”

Lora gasps. “Gina! That’s cruelty.”

“No, it’sscience.”

I push my mug away. “You want me to… flirt. With Sasha. At work. Then bail.”

“Correction:Arouse,don’t just flirt. Then you tactically retreat. Then…” Gina mimes an explosion with her hands. “Capitalize on repressed Catholic guilt or whatever trauma he’s lugging around.”

“He’s Russian Orthodox. I think.”

“Potato,kartofel’.”

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