Running Into Love (Fluke My Life)(6)

By: Aurora Rose Reynolds

I sit back in my chair and put my hands up to my scrubbed-clean face. “Nope, not happening. I’m not going to let you hook me up with someone again.” I shout the last word, and her nose scrunches up like I’m being dramatic. The first and last time I let her set me up was a disaster. The guy was an actor who thought he was god’s gift to women.

“You didn’t even give Phil a chance.”

“In Fawn’s defense, Phil is high maintenance,” Mac chimes in, gaining a disapproving glare from Libby.

“He’s a nice guy,” Libby defends her friend.

“He asked to use my compact during dinner,” I growl at her.

“So what’s wrong with that? Maybe he had something in his teeth.” She waves her hands around dismissively.

“Yeah, I thought so, too, until he used my powder, saying that the lighting was making him look shiny.” Mac starts giggling, and Muffin stands above her, wagging her tail happily thinking that she wants to play.

“He’s an act-or,” Libby states, like that fact alone should make it okay for a man to use a woman’s makeup, when in all actuality, it’s not okay for a woman to use someone’s makeup without asking for permission.

“Well, then, cross actors off my list,” I grumble.

“What kind of men are you interested in?” Libby asks, and for some stupid reason the hot detective next door comes to mind, but I push that thought aside, since for the last two weeks I have avoided any contact with him—going so far as to hide in my room when he’s knocked on my door.

“I’m focusing on work right now, so I don’t really have time to date,” I lie, watching her eyes narrow.

“You’re not still stuck on Jayson, right?” Mac asks, and my stomach turns.

“God, no,” I practically yell. Jayson was my last serious boyfriend, and he was also a serious dick. I don’t know what I saw in him, but I do know that because of him I’ve decided to be more cautious when dating and warier of attractive men.

“You know what, Mac? I think you’re right. I think we should go out,” Libby says, looking at me.

Rolling my eyes, I look at Mac, who is grinning ear to ear. “Fine, let’s go out. What’s the worst that could happen?” I shrug, knowing they won’t give up, so I might as well go and, hopefully, be home early enough to at least watch Hocus Pocus.

“Great. I just happened to bring a few costumes.” Mac jumps up and heads to the front door, picking up her duffel bag she dropped there when she came in.

“You just so happened to bring costumes with you?” I ask, and she grins, carrying her bag to my room. Following her, Libby and I sit on the edge of the bed as she starts to pull the costumes out of her bag.

“This dress is yours.” She smiles, handing Libby a piece of red fabric that looks more like a tube top than a dress. “And this one is yours.” Taking it from her, I notice that it is the same style as Libby’s, only it’s dark blue. “And this one is mine.” She grins, holding up a piece of white fabric in front of her.

“This is a dress?” I question, holding out the supposed dress. I can’t imagine that the thing can cover more than one of my vital parts at a time, and I will have to choose between the twins or my vajayjay.

“Exactly what are we dressing up as?” Libby asks, stretching out the material.

“Hoes.” Mac smiles proudly.

“Hoes?” I repeat.

“There’s a pimps and hoes party tonight at Jack’s, so we’re going as hoes.”

“Can I be a pimp instead?” I ask, stepping on the dress and pulling it up, trying to make it longer, but it ends up snapping back and hitting me in the face.

“You’re not going to get a man if you’re dressed like a pimp.” Libby rolls her eyes like I’m ridiculous for not wanting to wear a dress that wouldn’t fit one of my fifth graders.

“I don’t want a man, and if I did, I wouldn’t want one that wanted me because I’m dressed like a prostitute.” I sigh, flopping back on my bed and looking at the ceiling.

Why didn’t god give me brothers?

“I’ll do our makeup,” Libby chirps happily, and I groan against the palms of my hands as I cover my face.

“Come on, it will be fun,” Mac says, tugging my hands away from my face. Glaring at her one last time, I give up and let her pull me out of bed and into the bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, I sigh and tug at the hair tie just barely containing my blonde mop. Unleashed, my hair looks how I imagine a lion’s mane does on a bad hair day.

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