No, WineBar’s not at his wine bar. It’s not like I expect him to be, anyway.

There’s a pitcher of sangria in front of us and an empty glass in front of me. I’m probably drinking more than my share, but I definitely need it more than Lana. I pour another full glass.

“Still recovering from all that amazing sun and cock?”

Lana doesn’t seem to realize the state I’m in tonight.

“Cancun is always good, yeah.” I swirl the bright-red drink around in my glass. So what the fuck am I going to do now?

“I figured you must’ve gotten laid that last night. Wasn’t it a Sunscreen guy or something you had a date with?”

This gets a tiny frown from me.

“No, that didn’t happen.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I was too drunk to do anything.”

“So? Doesn’t that make things exciting? All-out-drunk sex, I mean.”

“Lana. Seriously?”

But that’s not what stopped me, and I don’t know that I want to get into all the WineBar inner turmoil bullshit with her just yet. She’s been telling me to forget about him the entire trip, and I’m not sure she’ll be happy hearing about me refusing sex from a hot guy because of WineBar.

I move from swirling my sangria to drinking it. I don’t think I can gulp it down fast enough.

“Hey, ladies!”

Lana and I both swing around, startled. Even after seeing her face dolled up in heavy eye makeup and purple lipstick, it takes a second for me to recognize her.

Oh. Woo fucking hoo.

“It’s been a few days, Miranda.” This should be fucking fantastic.

“Yeah! Fancy meeting you here.” Miranda’s acting especially bubbly.

Lana sends me a quick bemused look.

“Miranda, this is my best friend and writing partner, Lana.”

Lana looks just slightly less confused as she shakes Miranda’s hand.

“I met Miranda at Kirk’s barbecue.”

Lana gives a big, dramatic nod as it all comes together for her.

“I guess you know Kirk from this place,” Lana offers politely.

“Oh, yeah, we go way back. Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear, but were you guys taking about Cancun?”

Something’s off. I try to give Lana a side glance, but now she’s beaming happily at Miranda. Totally fucking oblivious.

“Yes! We just got back from there! Why don’t you join us?” Lana moves to the next stool and offers her the seat next to mine.

Miranda happily slinks in. I don’t quite know what’s going on, but whatever. I’ve got my drink.

I gulp down some more sangria.

“Are you a regular Cancun-goer, or what?” I’m trying to be nice to Miranda, but it’s coming out kinda snarky.

“Oh no, I’ve never been.”

Miranda’s eyes are fixed forward at the wall behind the bar. I don’t know what her deal is right now, but Lana seems happy that she’s here. She grabs Miranda’s arm and starts talking straight at her.

“Hey, Miranda, I haven’t told Emily over there this yet, but I want to be her wingwoman tonight. I need to get her to talk to some guys. You could help...”

“Lana, what the fuck—” I just sigh instead of finishing. What’s the point?

“Don’t worry about her, Miranda,” Lana chirps on as if Miranda’s an old friend. “She just needs to get back into the game. Whaddya say? We can help one another out. There are enough guys out tonight for all of us.”

“I’d love to help Emily, and I will. I have my own man, though, so I don’t need help in that department.”

At least Miranda’s found somebody. Maybe now she can stop hovering around WineBar all the damn time, whatever the fuck he’s doing these days.

“That’s good to hear. Who is it, Miranda?” I actually couldn’t care less, but I wouldn’t mind talking about something positive, at least to hear about someone else’s happiness. Or to get my mind off my lack of it.

Miranda turns to me. I recognize that vaguely wild look in her eyes.

“You know him!”

Okay, so you know those moments in the movies where everything comes to a screeching stop? Like a record needle scratch moment? Yeah, that’s how I feel right now.

Because…just…fuck. No, no, no, no.

“I do?” The words come out in a raspy whisper.

“It’s Kirk!”

God. Damn. It.

And how can she be so fucking insensitive? She looks so freaking thrilled with herself.

I want to throw up, but instead I feel my face form into the meanest scowl I have—that’s literally the nicest I can be about this, and that’s with giving it all my effort.

Miranda and Lana are both looking at me. Miranda has a smug smirk on her face, and Lana looks appropriately terrified. Lana almost jumps when she hears the sound of some dude’s voice nearby.

“Hey, Derek!” she calls, almost frantically.

I hear the voice go “Heyyyyyy” somewhere behind me, but I want nothing to do with it.

“Come on, Em. I want you to meet Derek.”

“Who the hell is Derek?” I don’t wait for an answer. I just drain the rest of my drink. I need another.

“I met him in Cancun. I knew he lived here, but...well, I kind of expected to run into him. Come on!”

Lana leaps from her stool, starts walking over to wherever that guy is, and grabs my arm on her way.

“Okay, fine, take it easy.” I stand up and try to keep up with Lana as she trots over to a table by the entrance. I’m almost in a daze.

I do want to get away from fucking Miranda, but I also want to get away from everyone else.

“I miss WineBar,” I murmur to myself, sort of hoping Lana will hear. How the fuck did I get to this point?

“Don’t even think about it anymore,” Lana utters out loud. I want to wallow in my misery, but she has no patience for it right now.

The black polo shirt, spiky-haired dude sitting at the table Lana’s pulling me to must be Derek. I see some other guy walking away quickly out of the corner of my eye.

Lana eagerly plants herself in an empty chair at the table. I take another chair reluctantly.

“Derek! You weren’t fuckin’ lying! Pacific Heights!”

I want to tell Lana that it’s okay to fucking calm down a little, but for whatever reason, I decide to play it cool instead.

Maybe it’s that Derek is actually pretty cute, and some part of me doesn’t want to scare him off yet.

“Pacific Heights, baby! You knew I’d be here!”

Derek’s yelling too, and he’s grinning kind of dumbly. But when he sees me, it seems to stop him in his tracks for a moment.

“I’m Emily,” I announce. Why did I do that? I catch Lana looking at me and nodding.

“Yeah, this is Emily. I told you about her. I just realized that I have to close out my tab over there.”

Lana departs on that excuse, leaving me with Derek and his polo shirt.

“You live around here?” I feel lame, unmotivated. Before Derek answers, our server, Susan, appears out of nowhere to hover over the table. I forgot about her.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Susan’s ready to take a drink order. Thank fuck.

“Pitcher of sangria.” I’m not ready to change horses midstream.

I want to ask about Kirk, but I know now is not the time.

“Okay, we’ll go with that,” she says with a smile.

Susan leaves, and Derek turns his focus on me.

“I’m over by Lafayette Park,” he informs me, his eyes slightly sparkling.

“Oh, my place is closer than that.” I’m not sure why I’m volunteering this information. Even Derek looks confused.

“I’m not that close, but I still like walking here. As you can tell, I get a lot of exercise.”

“I can tell,” I state robotically. I’ll just go on auto-flirt mode, I guess. Because I can’t find enough fucks to give to put in a real effort.

“Pitcher of sangria.” Susan appears out of nowhere again and plunks the pitcher full of red liquid with orange slices and cherries down on the table, followed by my empty glass from the bar. I think I love her.

“Just put it on my tab.” Derek’s eyes are on me while he talks to Susan, and she leaves wordlessly.

I look back at Derek, still in auto-flirt mode, while pouring myself a fresh drink.

“You do that very skillfully. You weren’t even watching.”

“Do you think I don’t know how to use my hands by now?”

Derek looks at the pitcher and makes the silent decision not to pour a sangria for himself.

“Most people need to see what they’re doing.”

I take a small sip of my drink, not knowing how long I’ll have to be here. Where the fuck did Lana go?

“My hands are capable enough on their own,” I add.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, I just said it.”

He grins.“I’d like to think I’m pretty coordinated myself.”

Something inside me is compelling me to keep going with this.

“I see no proof of that.”

Derek smiles and pours a sangria for himself.

I stay on auto-flirt mode as we finish our drinks, barely thinking about my responses to anything but still managing to make Derek laugh several times.

After both our glasses are empty, I look at my wristwatch.

“How close do you live?”

I know Derek wants to invite himself over to my place. I take one last look at his face and his polo shirt.

“Why? You planning to get some exercise right now?”

“I could use some.”

I don’t even know why I’m here. I should have left the minute I saw fucking Miranda. But now I’m well on my way to drunk, and all I want is some kind of distraction from the hollow feeling in my chest that her announcement left behind.

“Okay...fine,” I say. “Yeah, okay, let’s go.”