Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“I guess I have to. It’s too much work for one person. He’s so frustrating, though. God forbid he’d miss a single minute of his break time, or stay even a second past five p.m.”
At the sound of a muffled beep, Moira wrestled her phone out of the tiny clutch, read the text message, and wedged it back in again. “The jig is up. My mom noticed I snuck out.” She got up and tucked the shoes back under her arm. “You’re lucky she texted when she did, because I was just about to lecture you for sitting at home on a Friday night.”
“Everyone was busy. Mom and Julie are having dinner with friends, and you had plans with Qian.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to try an app and get out there and date a little.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s not my style.”
“Aren’t you lonely?”
“No.”
“You know what we should do? We should go to a gay bar—”
“No, thanks.”
“—tomorrow night. Let’s check out that new place in the Castro.”
“You have plans with your fiancé tomorrow night.”
“He can come, too.”
Her phone beeped again, and I said, “You’d better go, before your mom blows a gasket.”
“I’m going, but this is happening. We’ll pick you up after dinner. Wear something sexy.”
“Like what?”
“Anything but a sweater vest. Or a sport coat. No tweed across the board. No bow ties, either. In fact, your entire work wardrobe is off limits.” She gathered her full skirt into her arms and called, as she climbed over the windowsill, “I love you, Anderson Chen!”
“I love you too, Moira Liu.”
After she left, I tried to lose myself in the pages of the book I’d been reading. My mind kept wandering though, so I set it aside, wrapped myself in a blanket, and climbed out onto the fire escape.
I liked it out here, even though it was chilly for late May, and the view was abysmal. Below me was a narrow alley lined with dumpsters, and across from my window was the beige stucco wall of the building next door. I stared at that wall for a while as I replayed my conversation with Moira.
She’d asked if I was lonely, and I’d denied it. Of course I was, but I didn’t want to admit it to her. All that would accomplish was making my best friend worry about me. Then she’d try to help by sending me on blind dates and signing me up for dating apps.
We’d been down that road before, and it never went well. None of this did. I’d been playing the dating game for more than a decade, and the result was always the same. What was the point in hoping and trying, when I already knew how it would turn out?
I was lost in thought when movement down below caught my eye. A cat ran into the alley, followed by a second, and a third. Shit! Had I just set off my power?
I scrambled through the open window and slammed it behind me. There was a light under my door from the hallway, and it started to flicker as every cat in the apartment gathered. They began meowing, and a little white paw reached through the gap under the door and felt around.
When the doorknob began to turn, I shouted, “Really?” Since when did they know how to open doors? I hurried to the door and locked it. Then I climbed into bed and pulled a pillow over my head, as the cacophony inside and outside grew louder and more insistent.
Of course I was single. Who the hell would want this?
Moira kept hounding me all the next day, so that night I finally relented and went to San Francisco’s newest gay night club with her. As promised, she dragged her fiancé along, too.
If I had to describe Qian Zhang in one word, it would be polite. Every time someone asked him to dance—which was often, because he was an exceptionally good-looking guy—he replied with, “Thank you. I’m flattered, but I must decline.”
After a while, he turned to me and yelled over the pulsating dance music, “I apologize for being a distraction, Andy. Should I redirect the men to you when they ask me to dance?”
“No! God no.” That was the last thing I needed, my best friend’s straight fiancé’s hand-me-downs.
Moira took a sip of margarita and yelled, “The problem is that you look too uptight, Andy. That’s why no one’s asking you to dance, and I know you’re not about to make the first move. Why is your polo shirt buttoned up to your chin? What do you think, that showing two inches of man chest would make you seem like a floozy? Also, I’ll never understand why you put a gallon of gel in your hair every time you go out.”
“You know why. It’s because I have a cowlick and it looks stupid.”