Page 26 of Follow Your Bliss

“How many of you are coming to the bowling alley Friday night?” Paul asked.

I kept my hands all the way down, inwardly wincing for the reactions of the third thing I hated about this group: the women who’d sat on either side of me tonight.

A warm hand on my arm. “Jason, you aren’t going?” Sina asked, her dark brows lowering.

“No, I’m going to be out of town.” Thank you, Big Dick Tools.

A warm hand on my other arm. “But I was only going if you’re going.” Bethany smiled her winningest smile and twined her arms around mine, tossing her hair.

I unraveled my arms from both ladies and stood up. “Sorry. Busy.” They’d already asked, and I’d already told them I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Their constant touching and competition over me was as unwanted and disrespectful as Misty’s.

I slipped to the back of the room to fill my coffee cup, yet again. I’d actually been hopeful when the groups first combined, thinking maybe it would help me reconnect with my faith and reevaluate what I wanted from a partner. But that’s not why most people were here. Some clearly just wanted to hook up, others were uber-religious parishioners looking for like-minded mates, and a few were fresh from divorces and break-ups; half of those just wanted to bitch about their exes, and the others were still grieving.

My new buddy, Antoine, who also got suckered from the volunteer group into this one, joined me at the coffee counter and leaned in. “If they try to organize another painting and wine night, I’m out, bro. Maybe we should form our own group.”

“I know, right?”

“What do you know?” Misty appeared beside me, encroaching on my personal space and batting her lashes at me.

“Misty! What’s up, girl?” Antoine bellowed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and squeezing her. “What’s goin’ on?”

She held up a clipboard. “I’m looking for volunteers to plan our next mixer.” Her pale blue eyes dug into mine. “You know you want in.”

I scratched the back of my head. “I can’t make that one.”

She ran her hand up my arm and leaned toward me, laughing as if I’d said something funny. “You’re so silly, Jason! You don’t even know when it is.”

I pulled away as Antoine took her clipboard and diverted her attention from me. He’d been the best anti-wing man.

“I think what Jason meant to say is that he sucks at party planning. But you know who doesn’t suck? Antoine.”

Misty ignored him but grabbed her clipboard back. “Jason, I thought we could plan it togeth—”

Paul raised his voice above the conversations in the room. “Wait a minute, everyone, it looks like we may have to reschedule bowling.” He held his hand up for attention, but his eyes were on his phone. “Did everyone see the latest projections for Tropical Storm Oscar?”

Antoine pulled out his phone and got to the local WWL weather app before I could. “Shoot. Looks like I’ll be evacuating tomorrow.”

“Really?” I scrolled through the latest updates. Great. Meteorologists were expecting it to take a jog east overnight, and if it did, it would hit our area a couple of days before I was planning to leave for Florida.

“Let’s close our meeting with a prayer for the safety of lives in the upcoming storm.” Paul herded us to the middle of the room, and after a quick prayer, the meeting dispersed and people started to leave.

When the room was almost empty, I went up to Misty and pulled her to the side. “We need to talk.”

She smiled slyly and walked off to the back of the room. “I knew you’d come around. Would you use your big, strong muscles to bring the coffee urn to the sink?”

I sighed, hefted the urn, and followed her into the kitchenette off the meeting space. I set it on the counter. “Misty, I was serious about what I texted last week. I don’t want you to contact me in any way except about this group.”

“Oh, okay.” She giggled and pulled her phone from her pocket and started texting.

“I’m serious. Are you even listening to me?” My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. She’d texted me:

“Damnit, Misty, this isn’t a joke. This”—I waved my finger between us—“is never gonna happen. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Well, I’ve been masturbating to your Instagram photos all week, and I want the real thing.” She reached for my belt, but I grabbed her hand and pushed it away.

“Don’t touch me! And don’t contact me ever again.” I pushed past her and stormed out of the kitchenette into the empty meeting room.

On the drive home, all I could see was red. Red and her disrespectful smile after I’d pushed her off. Before I even processed where I was, I was parking in my lot. I cut off the engine and sat there for a minute with my eyes closed. I pulled out the paper with all the group session dates from my pocket and checked tonight’s off. Four more.

---