Page 25 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
Why the fuck did that just come out of my mouth?
Her expression stiffened slightly. “Oh.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said quickly, practically inhaling a lungful of air into my deflating lungs. “Years ago. I mean, we haven’t talked in years. Like, high school girlfriend.”
Shut up! I screamed internally.
How the fuck was I supposed to salvage this?
I looked at her. Overalls… overalls. Profile picture.
Dog.
“What kind of dog was in your photo?” I blurted.
She blinked, then laughed and shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. He’s a rescue, definitely something terrier in him. His name is Mocha.”
“Oh, cute,” I said, genuinely meaning it. I did love dogs.
The interaction seemed to ease the cloud of tension that had been hovering over our table, and I took a more relaxed breath as she pulled out her phone to show me some pictures. I nodded at the appropriate intervals, throwing in the occasional “adorable” and “so fluffy” where required.
Normal.
Things felt normal, like I was just a regular twenty-one-year-old on an awkward not-a-date.
Then she brought the hammer down.
“So, Ellis, where do you see yourself in five years?”
My stomach twisted at the totally normal, if slightly job-interview-y, question. I had zero answers. I didn’t have a five-year plan. Or a one-year plan. Hell, at this rate, I didn’t even have a one-month plan.
I opened my mouth, but no words found their way out.
Katie’s face took on a puzzled expression. “You all right?”
“Yeah…” I let out a sharp exhale, the next words tumbling out before I could stop them. “It’s just hard to plan when you don’t know how much time you have left.”
Her expression shifted.
The not-a-date was over.
Ellis [10:46am]
Never again…
I sent the blunt two-word message to my mother and pocketed my phone as I began walking briskly away from thecafé. The date had ended with an awkward hug and a few polite niceties before we parted ways, and I cringed the entire walk, secondhand embarrassment eating me alive from the inside out.
Location-wise, I knew exactly where I was. Just a five-minute walk from Dr. Mason’s office. And she was about to get an earful for putting me through that.
The entire encounter would now live in my brain rent-free for the rest of my life, playing on the highlight reel of cringiest moments that visited me at 2:00 a.m. when I couldn’t sleep.
“God, Ellis,” I groaned aloud, arms folded tightly across my chest as I walked down the street, replaying the last hour like a postgame analysis, except in this version, my team had been absolutely annihilated, and now I had to relive every second in painful detail.
Dr. Mason would probably say she was proud of me. Proud of me for trying.
How nice forher.
I wasexhausted.
