Page 10 of Love Me Like It's Real
I roll my eyes and take the cap off. “You know, I don’t think I appreciate your mocking me,” I tell him.
“It’s what best friends do to save their best friends from humiliation.”
“You say humiliation, I say liberation.”
Jason raises an eyebrow.
“Think how many poor souls I’ll liberate from the prison of love tonight.”
“Millions, I’m sure,” he answers.
“That’s the hope. But I’ll settle for a dozen.”
Jason grimaces. “My friend, if I were you, I’d settle for just one.”
“But why not shoot for the stars? Why settle for one?”
“Ever heard of the expression crash and burn? That’s why.”
I sigh. “Fine. I’ll settle for one. If I can make one convert I’ll be happy.”
“There’s my guy! Building his Anti-Valentine Club one hopeless member after another,” he says and pats me on the back.
I nod along until I realize what he said. “Hey! Who are you calling hopeless?”
Jason bites his lip and looks around the gym. “Erm…that guy?” he points at an unsuspecting gym user with his ear pods on doing squats.
I cock my head to the side and slide my gaze down his body.
“He’s notthathopeless. Nice ass,” I mumble.
Jason groans in desperation and throws in the towel. Quite literally. “I’m going home.”
“Fine. Go. Leave me alone. All alone,” I shout.
“You’re not alone,” Jason shouts back at me. He turns and points to the other guy doing squats. “You’ve got nice company over there.” His stage whisper is ridiculous but thankfully the other guy is listening to his music so he doesn’t react as my friend walks away and leaves me to work out alone.
At least the view is good.
Not that I’ll do anything about it. I’m in Club Mode tonight. I can’t think of anything other than my mission and think of every possible way I can make people realize love and dating and meeting “the one” is unrealistic trash and it’s only going to hurt them in the end.
This world would be so much nicer if people stopped obsessing over romance and dying of old age together.
* * *
“Dear Lord, tell me, where did I go wrong?” Mom says when I repeat my mission statement later that evening as she pours me a cup of coffee.
I roll my eyes. “You didn’t go wrong anywhere, Mom. If anything you created a beast.”
“You can say that again.”
“Hey!”
Mom chuckles. “What? You said it,” she says.
“I meant a beast of fortitude and purpose.”
Mom passes me a cup and hums. The hazelnut flavor permeates the room, awakening my senses before I’ve even managed a sip.
