Page 2 of Holding Out for a Gyro
“Surely there’s something on here you can do tonight?” I mentally rejected anything that wasn’t suitable to the venue, likeTake a yoga class.
“I’m not likely to have a party. And I’m not going to run a 10k on the rooftop.”
“How about…” I tapped my fingers together malevolently, loving how she squirmed. My eyes popped open as they landed on something ridiculous. “I’ve got it. Here.”
I pointed at one she hadn’t done yet:Have a 100% bullshit conversation with a total stranger.
“Oh God,” she groaned. She’d spent enough time with me to know I’d get her out of her comfort zone one way or another. “That’s impossible, Chelsea.”
“Oh, likehave a deep, authentic conversation with a total strangeris so easy.”
“It might be, if you didn’t wall yourself off, pretending like you’re some heartless robot.”
I held my hand over my heart. “Shots fired.”
She wasn’t wrong. I mean, I wasn’t a heartless robot, but it was easier to pretend to have no cracks, no weaknesses anyone might exploit to hurt me. It was a survival mechanism. Growing up, hiding my anger, my fear, could mean the difference between a peaceful dinner and my plate shattering against the wall.
True, I’d checked off thebullshit conversationalmost immediately by convincing a wannabe suitor I was in the witness protection program, but that was for fun—for the list even. And it worked like a charm because I’d never heard from—I wanna say Tobin—again.
Elizabeth was the only person I’d ever allowed inside the fortress. For some reason, she’d hung in with me despite my earliest attempts to brush her off, calling me out on my bullshit, poking fun at my obvious deflections. She loved me, and I was lucky she thought I was worth the trouble. She had my lifelong friendship and trust, and I would do anything for her.
She shrugged. “Okay, then, I’m going to dare you to do that one. Be authentic tonight.”
Fuck. There was no shirking a dare unless I wanted Elizabeth to drop that letter to the sperm donor in the mail. Talk about authentic. That letter contained phrases like,You were supposed to be my safe place, but you made sure I’d never feel secure.Yeah, I didn’t want him to read that, though part of me thought he should know. A bigger part of me refused to feed his narcissism.
I looked around the bar, hoping to escape without explicitly refusing. “You want me to bare my soul to one of these college kids?”
“Doesn’t have to be a college kid. What about that guy over there?”
I turned to check out the bearded man in the Redskins jersey. “Not in a million years. He reminds me of my dad.” I shuddered. “No. If we’re both doing this, let’s do it together.”
“What about those two guys by the bar?”
I took a gander at her proposed prey. Two male twenty-somethings, leagues hotter than the frat boys, chatted with each other, completely unaware they were being targeted. Contestant number one wore dark bookish glasses, but his face was beautiful—perfect nose, pretty lips, eyelashes for days. His friend sported a dorkyDoctor Whoshirt and an unmistakable air of mischief. I loved mischief.
“Oh, they’ll do nicely.” Maybe I could get laid tonight after all.
We crossed the terrace, and as we approached, Elizabeth clutched my arm and whispered, “Sweet Jesus. Let me have the blond.”
The blond in question had a kind of boy-next-door quality about him, with regular-guy-next-door blondish brown hair, styled in a messy Haircut-Magazine Haircut. His gray T-shirt hung a little loose, half tucked in and half out of his blue jeans. That sexy librarian was Elizabeth’s male fantasy come to life.
As he was too Abercrombie and Fitch for my tastes, I was more than happy to cede him to Elizabeth.
But then I zeroed in on the mischievous friend. Despite his novelty T-shirt, he exuded a sexiness that made my breath hitch. With his black hair, dark eyes, olive skin, and devil-may-care smirk, he was way more my type than the blond. Positively disastrous to my health. As we stood gawking, his head swiveled around like a magnet pointing true north, and his eyes locked with mine. My heart slammed in my chest, and I let my gaze bounce off him, as though I’d been staring at something beyond.
My gut twisted into knots. I wanted to trade with Elizabeth, for my own self-preservation, but she’d already claimed her guy. Besides, since I was unlocking “authentic” tonight, I didn’t worry this exchange would risk a romantic entanglement. Nobody could sustain interest in the real me.
I stopped myself. That was Old Chelsea thinking. Dr. Rubinconstantly reminded me I needed to challenge the lies I told myself. New Chelsea believed someone could love her, warts and all. Fake it ’til you make it.
With a gentle nudge, I squared my shoulders to hide my own panic. “You planning to wait until he leaves?”
“He’s too beautiful, Chelsea. It’s painful.”
“He’s just an ordinary guy, E.” But I wasn’t immune to the nervous butterflies. At least we were in this together. “I bet he has a business degree with a minor in economics.”
“Right. His name is something common like Chris or Daniel.” She was always fictionalizing total strangers on the fly. “Probably a salesman or something boring.”
“Go on. I’m right behind you.”
