When I get off the phone, no closer to a resolution of this problem that I didn’t even know I had, I find myself in need of a distraction. The sudden appearance of this massive debt, the revelation that my parents had lied to me about my financial situation, it is too much to handle. I send a group text to a couple of friends and get ready to go out. As expected, responses from April and Hannah come in almost immediately. They can always be counted on to be up for a night out.

I stand in front of my closet, mentally dressing in every outfit I have. Unbidden, the price of each article of clothing pops into my head. Now that I’m confronting a six-figure debt, every little thing that I have bought feels extravagant. I take out a simple black dress and a pair of silver heels. It may be a bit too fancy for where we are going, but I don’t care. I need to feel good about myself tonight.

I walk the few blocks to the bar in the still warm evening air. The only plus side to humidity is that it means you don’t need to bring multiple layers with you when you go out at night. A man holds the door open for me and gives me a smile. I return a curt nod. I’m not in the mood for flirting tonight. I walk past him, grab a seat at a tall table, and pull out my phone. My friends haven’t arrived yet and the last thing I want is to be sitting alone in a bar with nothing to do. At least with my phone I can pretend to be busy. It keeps a good percentage of the random guys from clumsily hitting on me.

Nobody comes over, thankfully, and soon April arrives. I see her come through the door and look around the dark room, so I wave to grab her attention. She orders a Moscow Mule and hops onto a chair, planting her elbows on the table, and looking at me quizzically.

“So, what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion, I just thought it would be fun to go out.”

“Really? Emma, the girl I have to drag out of her apartment to go out even a couple of weekends a month just has the urge to go out on a Thursday when she has to open the shop tomorrow?”

“Are you complaining?”

“No, no. Just a little surprised. Are you sure nothing is up?”

“Oh, look, Hannah’s here,” I say, deflecting. I don’t want to think about my student loans, let alone talk about them all night.

Hannah strides in, turning heads in a wake behind her as she does. Among all my friends, Hannah stands out. Tall and lithe, Hannah had been a high jumper in college. She has the dimensions of a runway model, but also the muscular grace of an athlete. Her light brown hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail. Her whole look is of an elegant nonchalance, a kind of effortless beauty that would have infuriated me if she weren’t such a great person.

“Hey, Emma, what are we celebrating?”

I groan.

“Why does everyone think that something special is going on? I go out sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah, kicking and screaming.” Hannah laughs. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

“Nothing! I just wanted to get a few drinks and hang out. Why are you two so suspicious?”

The two of them look at each other and shrug. I give an exasperated sigh and down the rest of my cocktail. I signal to the waitress to bring me a refill.

April and Hannah aren’t wrong. It is unusual of me to be the instigator of a night on the town. Even in college, most of my partying was done at my own apartment with a handful of friends, rather than out at clubs. Not that I was averse to drinking and having fun, I just preferred to be comfortable while I did it.

We settle into a routine conversation about our weeks. Since April and I work together and have ample time to talk over the coffee grinder and milk steamer, this means either listening to Hannah’s stories or talking over each other to tell our own. Round after round comes and soon I am utterly lubricated. April gets up to go to the bathroom and the table falls quiet for a moment. That is when I notice Hannah’s bag. I hadn’t seen it when she walked in, but now it is dangling off the back of her chair. It looks like a Louis Vuitton, but it couldn’t be authentic. Hannah doesn’t have that kind of money.

“That is a great bag, Hannah, where did you get it?”

I expect her to say she had found it online or had gotten it from one of those knockoff bag sellers downtown. But she doesn’t.

“Oh, I just picked it up from the Saks over in Chevy Chase.”

“Wait, you mean that is a real Louis Vuitton?”

“Mm-hm.” She nods, a wry smile forming on her lips.

“I mean, no offense, but how did you afford it?”

“I, uh, came into a little bit of money recently. Nothing special.”

“Lucky you, I guess. What happened, some rich relative you never met pass away?”

“No, nothing like that. Just a little business opportunity.”

Hannah is a freelance graphic designer, so she has a pretty variable income. I guess it isn’t hard to imagine she had gotten a big project and used the money on a fancy purse. I just thought she would have told me if she had such a good gig. Maybe it had just slipped her mind. Regardless, she doesn’t look like she is going to say anything more, so I don’t press her any further. Besides, April is coming back from the bathroom.

“Ok, so I was coming back from the bathroom and I noticed this guy, don’t look now, but he’s sitting there at the bar, and he was totally staring over here.”

Despite her warning, I glance over at the bar. There are a number of men sitting there, either alone or with a friend or date. None of them are looking in our direction. April gives an exasperated sigh.

“Short, dark hair, gray blazer with the black shirt…next to the overgrown frat bro…”

I identify him. He is leaning against the bar on one elbow, opening up to the rest of the room. His other hand holds a rocks glass filled with amber liquid. He is chatting with another man. The ‘frat boy’ is a tall, broad shouldered guy who looks like he used to be in good shape and then let an excess of alcohol settle around his mid-section. Not so the dark-haired man. His face is lean and angular. His jaw muscles pop out as he crunches on a handful of bar snacks. His jacket is hanging open, revealing a tight-fitting shirt underneath that clings to his muscular torso.

“So, I see him. He seems pretty engrossed in his conversation. Are you sure he was looking over here?”

“Please. You think I can’t tell when a man is looking at something he wants? He was looking right over here.”

I lean back in my chair. I don’t need to pay any more attention to this conversation. Even if he was staring over at our table, he was obviously looking at Hannah. I knew I would be. Everyone at the bar took turns looking at her. Not that I have any reason to feel bad about how I look. When I put myself together, I think I look pretty good. But Hannah is statuesque, a goddess among mere mortals. I pull out my phone and flick through pictures on Instagram while April and Hannah discuss the various desirable aspects of the man at the bar.

I decide to look up again. No harm in checking a guy out. April and Hannah have moved on to another topic of conversation and April is showing Hannah something on her phone. I look up toward the dark-haired guy and my breath goes out of my mouth. He is staring right at me.

He is not looking near me, not looking toward the table at Hannah. He is staring right into my eyes. It feels like time slows down, like all of the motion and sound of the bar fades into the background and the space between him and me is the only thing that exists. He is exquisitely handsome. His eyes seem to glow softly under the low lights. He doesn’t smile, wink, or communicate in any way. He just keeps looking at me. It feels like it goes on for minutes, but in reality only a moment passes before his friend taps him on the arm with their bill. The dark-haired man looks away and doesn’t look back. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him as he and his friend leave the bar.