Page 29 of Harper's Holiday Romance
“That would make this.” She looked up to the sky as though it had the answers. “Your fourth meet cute, right?”
“I wouldn’t call it a meet cute, more like a meet disaster, or a meet—”
“Ugly,” Billie interrupted. “It’s called a meet ugly.”
“That’s a thing?” I asked.
“You really don’t read much, do you?” Billie said.
“Aside from the book about Adam and Eve and the guy with the technicoloured dream coat, no.”
“Are you referring to the Bible?” Sarah laughed.
“Yes,that one.”
“So, you haven’t read a book since you were forced to read the Bible in high school?” Billie clarified.
“Correct, unless fashion magazines count, then I’ve read hundreds.” I grinned.
The look of horror on Sarah’s face was amusing. We lived in a modern world with so many new options for entertainment, and reading wasn’t one of mine.
“It’s a good job you’re pretty,” Sarah said.
“I’m not sure that’s meant as a compliment, but I will accept it as one.”
Sarah nudged me gently, turning my attention back to Bob and Jill, who looked to be in a heated debate with Julia. All three turned towards us, well mainly me. I’d been the one holding down the conversation for the past two hours. At my first workplace the general manager liked to give out random awards every Christmas. I won the award for,Most likely to get into an unfavourable situation because they’re too polite.
It made sense.
“Tomorrow night we plan to eat at the Mexican restaurant. Would you like to join us?” Bob asked.
Julia was tight-lipped.
“Oh, erm, sure, that would be great. We haven’t been to the Mexican yet, so—” I looked at Sarah and Billie. I telepathically screamed,help! If the invitation was purely to go for dinner with Bob and Jill the decision would’ve been painless, but the glaring hostility radiating from Julia had me probing my brain for a valid excuse.
“Mexican sounds good to me,” Billie perked up. Mexican cuisine was her favourite.
“We’d love to,” Sarah added.
Oh,so now you start talking.
“It’s settled. Does seven thirty work for you ladies?” Bob asked.
Perfect.
6
It was tradition to commence the evening sampling an extensive range of tequila when dining out at a Mexican restaurant in Mexico, apparently. This was according to Bob, who purchased a whole bottle of a brand I’d never heard of, but the price tag indicated its popularity.
Urgh. I hated shots.
No, I despised shots.
Billie and Sarah looked at me, then at the waiter who so elegantly poured each shot with precision. They knew me well enough to know I was gearing myself up to outright decline.
Julia, who’d refused to make eye contact with me since we arrived, reached for the first shot.
“Let’s do this.” She tapped the bar and knocked it back like a pro. I waited for some indication that she hated it, a small grimace at least, but the squirm of pure discomfort didn’t come. Instead, she turned towards me and issued an ultimatum.
