“Tee-ah-go.” I watched his beautiful lips pronounce his name for the stupid, bubbly blonde that hung over the bar, a move that gave him a good view of her cleavage, I’m sure. It sure gave me more than an eyeful of her pink panties when her tiny black skirt rode up.

I scowled, some sort of female sister-code doing it’s damnedest to stop me from mumbling the word “skank,” even if I was thinking it inside.

I wasn’t bitter, not at all, it was more… envy of her boldness. I pulled the panels of my light olive-green cardigan together and squirmed in my booth seat to try to make myself smaller. I could never be like her, not in a million years, even if I wished I could. It wasn’t in me to be so… well, bold. I was the consummate timid little mouse, a pro at bashful blandness.

That’s why I was in that dark corner with a glass of white wine that’d lost its chill and a romance novel I’d ripped the cover off of. I hated the glances I get when people saw the covers—the guy with the sweeping hair and the rippling muscles, the girl with lust on her face and her dress artfully torn off. Yeah, no. I’d used scissors to cut the cover off of this one. The glances people shot my way whenever I’d read one in public with the cover still on it were judgment of a lonely spinster.

I almost rolled my eyes. Spinster. Was that word even used anymore?

I don’t know, but it described me perfectly. I lived alone, with a cat named Oscar as my only companion. I didn’t even have one of those “sex friends” or “benefit friends” or whatever they were called that people talked about. You know, a guy to do the deed and leave me alone.

Nope. All I had was this, a crush on a stupidly gorgeous, dark-haired bartender, a glass of wine, a cat that tolerated me, and my books. Like this one.

I went back to the romance book in a huff as the blonde ran a finger down Tiago’s hard jaw, I could all but hear the scratch of his beard as she did it, and that fierce scowl returned to my face.

Why couldn’t I be more like that? More like her—bold, confident, knowing exactly what she wanted. Me, I couldn’t decide whether to have a frozen pizza or a frozen burrito for dinner. She wore an outfit that was unsuitable for the chill that still permeated the spring air, even in southern California. I had on a warm pair of jeans and my usual cardigan.

I watched her, my eyes not envious, but sad more than anything. Why couldn’t I be so adventurous, and so open with my sexuality? My brain screamed a word “boring” over and over again and I closed the book. My brain was right, I could bore a librarian to tears. I was fairly certain I had a time or two already.

I never had adventures, I was never asked to go on road trips, mainly because I had no friends, but I’d promised myself long ago, I’d take that trip. I’d live that adventure. As soon as one came along.

Nothing ever happened though, not recently, anyway. When I left high school, I had a dream, a dream of normality. A dream that I’d made reality. I’d never guessed how lonely, or bored, I’d be.

And now, my life was a constant. After the chaos of my youth, I knew what each day would bring now, barring the occasional mishap caused by someone else or my health, and that’s how I’d wanted it.

Sometimes it sucks when you get what you want.