by Olivia Besse
“Why does everything bad always happen to me?” Riley whimpered out, prompting Max to roll his eyes at her dramatics. “Good things are supposed to happen to good people!”
“Wow.”
“We need to drink more,” Riley muttered, leaning over the edge of the marbled counter to whine out her order to the hipster mixologist working the bar. “I just need to drink myself stupid until nothing makes sense anymore,” she added, the corners of her tiny lips turning downward into a giant frown.
“You just said that nothing made any sense anyway,” Max said as he let out a snort of laughter.
“Why are you so against me today?” Riley grumbled back, glaring at him like a sullen toddler. “Can’t you see I’m in mourning?”
“Drink away, your majesty,” Max acquiesced, bowing his head jokingly as she let out an annoyed scoff. “This lowly traitor is at your beck and call tonight.”
And drink she did. Before long, Max was carrying a heavily inebriated Riley back to the front door of her apartment, the limp girl flung over his shoulder as he fumbled with her keys.
“You’re dumber than I thought,” Riley mumbled nonsensically, her head swaying against his back as she lazily squirmed in place. “You put the key in the keyhole, genius.”
Max merely snorted in response, hoisting her frail body further up his shoulder as he held the set of keys up to the dim light in the hallway. “Stop trying to put my... hair in your butt,” Riley slurred as he tried inserting the next key into the lock.
“Stop babbling out nonsense,” he simply replied, mentally patting himself on his free shoulder as the lock turned and made a merciful clicking sound.
“You’re fucking brilliant,” Riley loudly stated as he swung the door open and gingerly ran his hand along the wall in search of the light switch. “You should become a house burglar.”
“Do you hear yourself right now?” Max asked with a laugh as the light turned on to reveal an extremely messy living room.
How do girls live like this? he wondered to himself, wrinkling his nose at the sheer amount of crap littered across the floors and table. Even his house was noticeably cleaner than this dump, and that was with twenty guys living under one roof.
“What should we do now, bestest bestie in the whole wide universe?” Riley mumbled as Max set her down on the sofa, looking around lazily before grabbing for the remote control and turning on the TV. “Should we watch a slasher movie? We can pretend that every victim is Noah. Or maybe Noah can be the murderer and every victim can be me...”
Max gave her a crooked smile, taking one step backwards as he longingly eyed the front door. “I think I should actually get going.”
“You can’t leave,” Riley squeaked out as she looked up at him with a pained look on her face. “Everyone always leaves.”
Max felt his stomach flip tumultuously as he looked into her widened eyes, gulping down the lump that had formed in his throat before looking away nervously. “Uh...”
“Don’t go,” Riley continued to whine like a little kid. “Let’s have a girls’ night in and have a pajama party. You can borrow my socks.”
Shit, think of something, Max urged his brain, though he soon found that his body was settling down onto the other end of the sofa. What the fuck are you doing? You can’t stay here! You have to leave. Now!
“What should we watch?” Riley babbled, completely oblivious to Max’s internal conflict as she squinted at the television in concentration. “Ugh, this one’s the worst,” she groaned out, glaring at the cheesy romantic comedy unfolding before them on the screen as she stumbled out of her seat. “Filled with lies and deceit,” she muttered under her breath as she pattered back from the kitchen, two bottles of wine grasped in her hands.
“You’re not seriously going to drink more, are you?” Max asked with a frown.
“You said that tonight is my night,” Riley haughtily replied, shoving one of the bottles into his hands. “And I say we drink.”
“Don’t even need a glass, huh?” he mumbled out as he watched her take a swig straight from her own bottle.
“It’s called being classy,” she drawled out sarcastically before letting out a loud belch.
Don’t think she’s cute, Max commanded himself as he cleared his throat uncomfortably and shot her a weak smile. Don’t even think about it. That was not attractive at all. That was gross. What kind of girl does that?
...Ah, who am I kidding? Why the fuck is she so cute? How could such a loud noise come out of someone so small?
“Do you think she knows he’s cheating on her?” Riley suddenly barked, pointing the bottom of her wine bottle in the direction of the TV.
“I don’t think that happened in the movie,” Max told her, gulping nervously as he watched the couple kiss passionately in the backseat of a car. Fuck, had his swallowing always been that loud? Had she heard him?
“Of course he is,” Riley moaned out, narrowing her eyes at what was transpiring on the screen. “He’s totally cheating on her, but of course they won’t let the audience know that. He probably has that stupid app on his phone.”
Max merely let out another uncomfortable laugh as she continued to squint at the TV.
“How are they even doing that, anyway? Isn’t the backseat really small? It looks cold too. There’s no way that the windows could get that foggy. Ugh, I bet it smells like sweat. Gross.”
Max cocked his head to the side and shot her a look. “It’s called being caught up in the heat of the moment.”
“Heat of what moment?” Riley asked, her face scrunched up in confusion. “Noah and I never did that. Do people really just lunge for each other’s mouths after only a couple of hours of knowing each other?”
“Um, I guess.”
“Do you do that?” she asked, abruptly turning to face Max with a curious look in her eyes.
“Uh...”
“You do, don’t you?”
“Um...”
“See what I mean?” she whimpered. “I’m totally clueless about everything! He took the best years of my life. Now I’m going to die alone and inexperienced.”
“You’re not going to die alone, Riley,” Max flatly replied.
“I don’t even know how normal people meet each other,” she groaned out, hugging the bottle of wine tightly to her chest. “What if I never meet anybody ever again?”
“I’m sure you’ll meet someone new in no time,” Max reassured her, feeling a pang in his chest as he said the words aloud. Please don’t meet someone new, he couldn’t help but think to himself as he shot her a crooked smile.
“Even if I did, what happens after that? I don’t know how to go on a first date! I don’t know anything about dating period!”
“Dating’s not something that you can plot and plan,” he said with a sigh. “It happens naturally.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Riley muttered as she leaned her head against the sofa cushion. “You never wasted your youth in a decade-long relationship! My last first date was six years ago. I’m basically a dating moron!”
“Well, there’s no such thing as a dating genius, so don’t feel too bad,” Max teased her in response.
“I bet you’re pretty close. I mean, you go on first dates all the time! Have you ever even been on a second date?”
That’s only because I don’t want to date anyone but you, Max thought miserably to himself, feeling his cheeks grow hot as he did.
“You need to teach me everything you know, Max,” Riley pleaded, staring at him with a desperate gaze before chugging at her wine like it was a baby bottle. “I need to learn from the best if I’m going to overcome this handicap.”
“What do you mean?” Max asked jumpily, the tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment. “Teach you what?”
“You know!” Riley blurted out in exasperation. “What do boys like? How do I dress? How should I do my hair? How much perfume is too much? Should I kiss on the first date? What should I order? What do I even talk about
?”
“I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask...”
“Come on, Max,” Riley whimpered out. “You’re the only guy I feel comfortable asking.”
Don’t fuck this up, Max firmly told himself as he stared at the expectant look on Riley’s face. This is your chance to make everything right. It’s your fault she’s suffering right now. This is all because of your big fucking mouth. Be a good guy and help her out.
But then you’ll just have to stand by and watch when she starts dating someone new, another voice inside his head pointed out. You don’t want that. Why would you try to help her meet other guys? Isn’t that the last thing you want? Seeing her with a new guy would kill you, especially if you were the one who helped her get together with him. Just keep her away from everyone until you figure your shit out.
And, maybe, if you somehow manage to keep her away from all other men for the next twenty years, you can cash in on your offer...
Don’t be selfish, he groaned inwardly as he shook away the tempting thought. It isn’t like she’d go for you anyway. There’s no point in fucking up her dating life just so you won’t have to see her with someone else. You want her to be happy, don’t you?
“Please?” Riley squeaked out, drawing his attention back to her pleading smile.
“All right,” Max began, his voice slightly shaking as he did. “Well, first of all, guys really like it when girls...”
Four
“So, then, I was like, ‘What the fuck, bro?’”
“Oh, I see.”
Trying not to let Sam’s unenthusiastic response irk her, Riley took a long sip of her drink and shot him another bright smile. God, being chirpy and upbeat was seriously annoying, not to mention physically painful. Her cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from grinning and giggling so much.
“So, how much can you bench?” she asked, clearing her throat nervously as she racked her brain for guy-approved conversation topics.
“Huh?” Sam asked, a confused look on his face.
“Do you lift?”
“Weights?” he asked with a frown.
Riley nodded as Max’s words of wisdom replayed themselves in her head. Guys love it when you challenge them, especially when it comes to physical strength. They love the competition.
“I can bench at least a hundred,” she bragged, not even sure of if she was capable of successfully lifting even twenty pounds worth of weights without collapsing.
“Really?” Sam mumbled, eyeing her skeptically.
“Oh yea,” Riley drawled out, forcing a proud smirk onto her face. “I’m really into CrossFit right now.”
“Intense,” Sam commented in a flat voice, staring into his beer as if he would rather be anywhere but there in that grungy sports bar with her.
Fuck, what am I doing wrong? Riley frantically wondered to herself, shooting another weak smile at her date before shoving a French fry into her mouth. I’m doing everything Max told me to do! So why isn’t Sam falling in love with me?
After Riley had practically begged him to set her up on her very first Noah-less date, Max had finally relented and arranged for her to meet one of his frat brothers, a nice but boring soccer player named Sam, at one of the pubs near campus for a quick drink. Just as Max had advised, she had taken a laid-back approach to her outfit so as to seem relatable and easygoing, opting for a fitted pair of sweats and a cute, slinky tee shirt in lieu of her usual choice of heels and a trendy dress. Guys hate it when girls overdress or wear revealing clothes, she had reminded herself while picking out an outfit earlier that evening, pillaging her entire closet for the perfect nonchalant getup.
She had arrived at their unfussy locale of choice with a hopeful flutter in her heart, wondering if she might even experience the ever-elusive phenomenon of love at first sight. Would Sam like her smile? Her hair? Her clothes? Would he be telling this story to their children fifteen years down the road?
Despite having only passed the thirty minute mark, however, their date felt like it had been going on for eternity, and she couldn’t wait for it to be over so that she could curl up in her bed and cry herself to sleep. Sam seemed tired, bored and miserable, and he was barely even looking in her direction, save for the occasional weak smile or awkward laugh he graced her with.
Oh God, is this what all of my future dates are going to be like? Riley wondered to herself as she nervously bit on her lip. Am I going to be alone forever? Will I really end up having to take Max up on his stupid offer?
Even though Sam wasn’t her type in the slightest, what with his shaggy blonde hair, translucent blue eyes and blasé surfer boy attitude, she couldn’t help but yearn for his approval. Who knew? Maybe she would end up falling head over heels in love with him once they finally got the conversation going. After all, it wasn’t like she had been enamored with Noah from the very start either, and anyone with a functional pair of eyes could see how infatuated she was with him now.
“So what kind of music—”
“Look,” Sam began, letting out a tiny sigh as he nervously shredded up the napkin he was holding in his hands. “I think both of us can agree that we don’t really... click.”
At this, Riley could feel her cheeks redden in mortification. Was this really happening? Was he actually rejecting her so... bluntly? What had she done wrong? Could he see the horror in her eyes? Could the people at the next table over hear what was going on?
“I mean, you’re a nice girl, don’t get me wrong,” Sam blurted out once he saw the stricken look on her face. “It’s just... I don’t really think there’s a connection here. Don’t you agree?”
Riley slowly nodded her head, unsure of what else she could even say in response. A nice girl? she repeated to herself, trying to choke back the tears that were threatening to form in her eyes. What the hell did he even mean by that? Did he think she was unattractive? Boring? Unworthy of his time?
“Here, I’ll walk you to your car,” Sam offered with a friendly smile after settling the bill. “It’s the least I could—”
“No, it’s fine,” Riley cut him off, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder before reaching over to give him a stiff handshake. What the fuck are you doing? she screamed to herself before realizing how awkward her reaction had been. Quickly dropping his hand, she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before giving him one last fake smile. “I... I’m just going to get going first,” she mumbled, lowering her head slightly in hopes that he couldn’t see how crimson her cheeks had become. “Thanks for the fries.”
‘Thanks for the fries’? she silently repeated with a groan as she scampered away from the scene as fast as she could. ‘Thanks for the fries’?! What the hell is wrong with you?
Once inside the safety of her car, Riley let out a shaky breath before pulling out of the parking lot. Turning up the volume of the shitty love song on the radio, she allowed the clichéd lyrics to drown out the sound of her own thoughts, barely paying attention to the road as she made her way back to her apartment.
Unfortunately for her, even the wailing of a teenaged pop star did little to silence the neurotic voice inside her head, and she was soon going over every single detail of the night as she found herself stopped at a red light.
Did I order the wrong beer? she wondered as she stared blankly ahead. It was entirely possible, as she hated beer with a passion and had only ordered one in an attempt to seem low maintenance. What kind of guy would get turned off by a girl’s choice of beer, though?
Maybe I ate too much, she pondered to herself, though she couldn’t remember what Max had said about eating habits. Guys like it when girls... eat a lot? Or did he say when they don’t eat too much? Fuck, I’ll have to ask him again when I see him.
Maybe Sam had been turned off because she had accidentally laughed with her mouth full that one time. Or because she hadn’t used a fork. Or maybe because he thought she was a double-dipper. But she had totally turned her fry! Had he not seen it?
Speaking of condiments, had the
re been ketchup all over her face? At this, Riley carefully licked at the corners of her mouth, though there was no tangy residue to be found. Parsley in her teeth? Boogers in her eye?
Had she worn too much perfume? Not enough? Had she asked too many questions? Maybe he hadn’t been impressed by the 100 pounds that she had mentioned she could supposedly bench press. Should she have said 150 pounds instead?
“What did I do wrong?” Riley moaned aloud as she pulled into her parking spot and turned off the car, lightly banging her forehead against the steering wheel. Try as she might, she couldn’t recall any one moment that had gone spectacularly terrible. So if Sam’s disinterest wasn’t due to something she’d done, was the issue something to do with her as a person?
Dragging her feet until she reached the front door, Riley took another deep breath. Seeing as how the lights were on, her roommates, Liz and Audrey, were home, which meant that a grand interrogation would likely be awaiting her.
Riley’s two best friends had been more than concerned when she’d moped around the apartment for the first few days following her breakup, exchanging uncomfortable looks with one another as the heartbroken girl cried into glasses of wine and wiped at her snot with the sleeves of her sweatshirts. So the fact that Riley had actually taken a shower and spent a few hours out in public, away from her grimy pajamas and tearstained comforter, was headline-worthy news in and of itself.
You’re a cool, calm dating machine, Riley chanted soothingly in her head, gingerly placing her hand around the door handle. You’re an independent woman who is just now coming home from a fabulous date. The first of many, to be exact, she convinced herself as she slowly pushed open the door.
“Where are you coming from?” Liz asked curiously, surveying her roommate’s uncharacteristically casual outfit with interest as she and Audrey looked up from the crappy reality TV show they were watching. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
“I was on a date,” Riley announced with a proud smile. Not so shrill, she reminded herself as she saw her two friends exchange a look. Play it cool, Benson.
“Ooh! Was he cute?” Audrey asked, her eyes wide with excitement. “Does he have cute friends?”