Page 24 of Curvy Girl Summer

With my head, I gestured to the right, in the direction of the woman he was speaking to earlier. “Don’t let yourfriendhype you up. You’re not that funny. I don’t see it.”

“You know what I don’t see?” He gestured to the empty barstool beside me. “Your date.”

My mouth dropped, and a stunned laugh coughed out. “I think I officially hate you.”

“I’m just fucking with you,” he said, amusement dripping from each word. “But serious question: Why the hell would you go on a blind date?”

I sighed loudly. “I don’t even know. My thirtieth birthday is in a couple of months. I’m having a party at one of the houses over on Dowdy Lake—”

He let out a low whistle. “A house on Dowdy Lake? That’s nice.”

“Yeah. I’m having the dress-up dinner party portion to kick it off, and then the sun will set and we’ll roll into the real party,” I told him proudly. “I’ve been planning this for a year. I always envisioned having a date for it. But as of last week, I need to have a boyfriend for this thing.”

“That’s…” He shook his head and let the sentence trail off. “Why?”

“Why do I need to have a boyfriend?”

“By your birthday,” he clarified.

I sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Okay, but”—he twisted his face into a frown—“a blind date?”

“I know,” I groaned. “I know.”

He looked bewildered. He opened his mouth to say something, but a customer ran up to the bar a couple of feet away from me.

“Give me a second,” he told me, tapping the bar and moving toward the woman.

“Can I have another straw, please?” she asked.

“Of course,” Ahmad replied, grabbing one from behind him and handing it to her.

“I have another question.” The woman tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned closer to him. “Um, well… are you single?”

“No, I’m married,” he responded. “Happily.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said kindly. “I appreciate you asking.”

She giggled and then turned and left.

I tried to look away before he noticed.

Ahmad made his way back over to me and folded his arms over his chest. “So, what’s got you out here going on a blind date to find a man before your thirtieth birthday?”

I didn’t plan on ever seeing him again, so I told him the truth. “I told my family I would introduce them to my boyfriend at my birthday party and have my Cinderella moment,” I admitted. “But there is no boyfriend, so now I have to produce a man and prove that I’m not the problem child they think I am.”

“So, they think you’re a problem because you don’t have a man? Not because of your attitude or your personality or your general disposition?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m going to write a terrible review of this place online.”

He laughed. “I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.” He straightened his face and tried to look serious. “So, let me guess—you’re the only child not married and without kids?”

“Something like that. Which to them means I’m behind the curve or some shit.” I made a face. “A boyfriend leads to a husband, and a husband leads to kids.”

“And you think a boyfriend by your thirtieth is going to stop them from being on your ass about being behind?” he guessed.

---