Page 2 of Severance

My main goal for the evening, apart from enjoying the music, is to try to not get ensnared in another male catastrophe like the type that follows Jess and me—mostly Jess—every time we go out.

“I think he’d be perfect for you.” Her skinny arm wraps around my neck.

She’s been on this stupid mission to find me a boyfriend ever since we became besties in elementary school. A million attempts and twelve years later, Jess Tiller, best friend extraordinaire, is still at it. At this point, I’m surprised she hasn’t put up flyers.

“It’s not even acceptable not to have a boyfriend at eighteen,” she adds.

“In what universe?” I ask as I draw her arm away before the curls I worked on all afternoon turn into an irreparable disaster.

“Oh, come on.” She tugs on the sleeve of my jacket. “Just look at him. He’s tall. He’s got gorgeous blond hair.”

“He looks like he’s on a breakfast, lunch, and dinner steroid diet,” I counter.

Jess likes her guys big and buff. She says the sensation of being dominated makes her feel like a real woman. I have no idea why she’d want such a thing.

Although I might not be the best person to judge. My father has never allowed me to date, so most of what I know about guys is from books, the ones I read in secret when I was growing up. And I suppose fictional men aren’t quite like real-life ones, the majority of whom, according to my father, aren’t serious about relationships. He did try to pair me up with the pastor’s son once. And then a boy from the church choir. Neither was very interesting, but I bet my father wasn’t looking for interesting. He was looking for someone stupid enough to believe couples shouldn’t have sex before marriage.

This guy is also a definite no. Besides, my father’s blood pressure would jump through the roof if I were to bring someone like him home for dinner.

There’s a special name for families like mine. Traditional.

If not for Jess, I’d probably still think angels brought children from heaven. Jess is the best bad influence friend there is. Besides the guy thing, she’s the one who got me into rock music. My father wasn’t too thrilled when I put up my first band poster on my bedroom wall at the age of thirteen. And proving that Black Rose was a band without satanic tendencies turned out to be a challenge.

“How about him?” Jess motions in the direction of two guys who’ve just joined the group.

“Which one?” I shift my focus back to the circle of male specimens to make my girlfriend happy.

“The short hair,” Jess whispers in my ear, her auburn curls tickling my cheek. “Since you don’t like the blond hunk.”

I snort out a laugh, evaluating the guy with the, as my father would say, “decent” haircut. However, his dark blue hoodie, which has a veryindecent version of the Keep Portland Weird slogan that has the F-word after the name of our beautiful green city, disqualifies him from being an acceptable dinner date with my family.

My eyes slide to his friend’s back and drink in his black leather jacket. It’s snug and accentuates his shape perfectly. Then the moment I catch myself staring at his ass, heat floods my cheeks. Not that it isn’t a great looking ass—he knows how to wear his jeans like a pro. It’s the fact that my eyes linger on his body longer than necessary, which is shameful according to my father, and Jess obviously takes notice of it.

“Ohhhh!” she hoots, almost jumping for joy. “You like ’em dark and brooding.”

“Shut up.” I shake my head and avert my gaze.

“He’s hot.”

“You determined that by looking at his back?”

“A guy with an ass like his can’t be ugly.” She gives me a toothy smile and twirls a lock of my blond hair around her index finger. “I think we should go say hi.”

“No!” I grab her shoulder in panic.

“You’re no fun at all.” She pouts.

“We’re not going over there, Jess,” I almost squeal. When it comes to guys, I’m extremely brave in my mind, but in reality, I stammer and blush like a sixth-grader. “It’s weird.”

“How is it weird?”

“I’m not going.” I fold my arms on my chest, trying not to look across the room. But my eyes are traitors. They’re ogling Mr. Leather Jacket again within seconds. He’s not as tall as the steroid guy, not as big either. His body is lithe and verymalewith broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long legs. His hair is dark and shiny, and it cascades over the collar of his jacket in the most sensuous way a guy’s hair possibly can. He looks like he belongs on the cover of some dark fantasy book. When he turns to his friend, a teasing smile on his lips fills my stomach with a blissful flutter. However, as if on cue, my father’s voice then enters my head.Shame on you,Alana, he says, his tone stern and authoritative.

He’s obsessed with keeping the male population of the entire planet away from me as much as Jess is obsessed with finding me a nontraditional-looking boyfriend.

The question is, who will succeed first?

“Ooh!” Jess pulls me out of my thoughts. Her blue eyes widen. “He has an earring. Wonder if he’s pierced anywhere else?” She waggles her brows at me.

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