Ave Michaels is an out-and-proud cynical romantic who never had her heart broken (considering she has to fall in love first.)
That is until, in order to get published, she has to prove she's a versatile writer by writing a romance novel.
Throw in a...
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"In Which Reality is a List of Reasons to Stay F*cking Single "
(Pt. 2)
· · ·
(Still) Encontrarse
5:48 PM
She even goes on to proudly present the alleged 'list', which was a paper napkin consisting of a bunch of names neatly and legibly written down in a formal cursive script — that was unmistakably so Tia — on its textured deep Prussian blue surface.
"Ooh," Tamieke marvels at the paper, wriggling his fingers in excitement.
Kiana cheerfully claps. "We have managed to scrape up at least five people we know that you have famously dated and/or slept with for the past two years. Chances are, you've probably been in love with one of them" — she drops her smile when she sees the expression on my face.
She shows the list to me. "Or, at least, have been close enough to let them in your dark itty-bitty heart and your lady parts. We just need you to write what you've liked about them, and what you've felt being with them."
"And these are my choices?" I ask, briefly navigating down the singular column filled with the names of the transient characters from my not-so-distant past, inked in pretty cursive letters.
All right, 'pretty' was a complete understatement.
Seriously?! Is this even supposed to be a list of my failed attempts in dating, or a modern piece of calligraphic art on a table napkin?
Who the fuck casually carries around a white-inked pen?
She didn't even break a sweat writing this — which goes to show how sucky my handwriting is.
"Huh," I skim the paper the second time around, skipping over some familiar names before my eyes land on the random numbers beside them — wait, random numbers?!
I gape at the scheming duo. "You scored them?!"
Tia clicks her tongue. "Scoring sounds puerile when you say it. Those are a reliable quantifying average of their personality, charisma, uniqueness, hotness, and — most importantly — their overall compatibility with you."
"Also known as how long they lasted with you!" Emile adds in.
One of my eyes narrows. "So, you did score them."
And who says only the SATs* can take all a person's outstanding qualities and reduce them into a single number?
I could feel Tamieke's breath tickle the back of my neck, the unquestionable stench of garlic and pesto drifting to my nose as he tries to peek at the list over my shoulder.
