Page 11 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

A crack of lightning turned the gray sky white as I stood for the door, my clothes covered in a thin sheet of rain. I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened Ophelia’s profile again, swiping through the pictures one after the other. My thumb hovered over the message for a second too long before I sighed, and then deactivated my account altogether.

4

Theobviousfirststepto a night out drinking was carb loading, which is why after driving through the stormy sunset, Nat and I ended up sitting on a splintered bench at the outdoor patio of Sand Saloon.

“I can’t believe he caught you looking at his dick.”

“Apicture,” I corrected my friend. “A picture of the crotch of his pants. It was, like, the absolute most humiliating thing you could ever think of.”

“That would probably be if he caught you stalking his mom's sister’s neighbor’s Facebook profile where he was tagged in a picture from six years ago.”

I squinted with a bite of juicy burger halfway to my mouth. “Yeah…that oddly specific scenario would have probably been worse.”

“Anyway, he was a good sport about it. That showsmaturityin a man. He’s self-aware.”

“Maybe it just meanshewas the one looking at my grandma’s best friend's son-in-law’s Facebook profile and figured that he shouldn’t judge.”

Natalia rolled her eyes and I peered over the side of the patio where it hung into the water. Two kids a few booths down were throwing French fries over the barrier to a famished shoal of largemouth bass while their parents argued quietly across the table.

Oddly, the kids reminded me of my own siblings back home. Or maybe they reminded me more of myself. At that age as an only child, I didn’t realize what kind of problems lay right beneath my nose because I had no worry over “grown-up” things. My parents had many hushed arguments hidden behind the background noise of the television while I played in the living room. But ugly words always sounded sharp.

That’s not to say they didn’t have their better moments, too. I knew whatlovewas, what it looked like—but it was never in my sphere, never really in my home, not in the years I could remember, anyway. But then as a teenager I began to notice it again. My mom with Josh, and my father with Amy. I saw it in my best friend’s parents, and in my Aunt Shelly and Uncle Ray.

“But, you said he made you laugh. That’s hard to find,” Natalia pondered. “Most guys nowadays are so into themselves it’s disgusting. It’s like they expect you to be enamored by their existence alone. The bar is in Satan’s asshole.”

“If that’s what you think in West Palm Beach, then the bar in Pine Ridge is in that little space between his asshole and his sack.”

“The gooch.”

I nearly spit the Bay Breeze I was drinking all over the table. Pineapple juice stung the inside of my nose and Nat giggled as she passed me a clean napkin across the bench.

“Exactly,” I said, recouping. “I’m swimming in Satan’s gooch pool, and you’re out here telling meyourbar is low.”

“The tides are changing, Phee. Here I was, thinking I’d be spending my Christmas season helping you get laid, when it looks like you don’t even need me. I’ll be picking your ho-ho-ho ass up at a Publix tomorrow morning with your reindeer ears on backwards and Hook(Up) guy’s dick print on your cheek.”

“This is a family establishment, Natalia Russo.”

She rolled her eyes. “Show me a picture. Is hehothot? Or hot because he’s got a fun personality? Because you’re not hooking up with fun personality guys anymore. I’m putting my foot down.”

“You are like a meninist’s worst nightmare,” I said, swiping my phone off the table to pull up Frankie’s profile. “Do you ever just, like,lookat a man's thighs and wonder what kind of horsepower they have?”

Nat pointed the soggy, limp end of her French fry at me. “See, thisis why you’re my people.”

I opened the app and there was another match there. The blond holding a husky who I found myself much less physically attracted to than I did at the airport that morning.

“He’s a little older, is that bad?” I asked. Frankie wasn’toldby any means, but nine years would be a bit of an adjustment. “Should I be worried he’s hiding a wife and kids or something?”

“I like older. They know what they want. Maybe he’s divorced?”

“Well thank you, ex-wife, he’s aged like fine wine.”

I scrolled top to bottom and side to side on my phone, hitting the back button and refreshing the pageonce,twice.My stomach tensed uncomfortably when the face I was searching for had entirely vanished.“Noway.That fuckinggoochhole.”

“What? What happened?”

“He unmatched me.”

“Shut up.”

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