“We can help you, we’ve decided,” said Eiren. “If you want wingwomen, we’ll go back to the bar with you, see if we can’t find that Stockton, the sweet one, help you get yourself into a bed for your first time.”
“No, you can’t,” said Rora, matter-of-fact about this.
“Sure, we can,” said Tawny. “We don’t mind, and we’ve talked it over, while you were checked the fuck out back there, not listening at all, and we feel responsible for you.”
Rora laughed. “No, you shouldn’t. I’m not your responsibility.”
“Well, we must all stick together,” said Eiren, throwing an arm around her. “We are all damaged goods, you see, so we have to look out for each other.”
Rora laughed again. She liked this, pulled between the other two, walking around, just a bit buzzed on too much wine. “Will we keep in touch after the rite?”
“We have to!” said Tawny.
“Definitely,” said Eiren. “Give me your phone.”
The three women stopped to exchange phone numbers and send each other texts and type each other’s names into their contacts. Then, arm in arm, they walked up the street.
“Wait,” said Tawny, “you never explained why we can’t be your wingwomen.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Eiren, eyes bright because she was tipsy, too. “Why not?”
“It’s been tried before,” said Rora.
She had been taken on as a project by a group of friends lead by a particularly attractive rabbitkin girl. She was popular on campus. She was sought-after by men. She was certain that she could find someone who would be interested in Rora.
But it had gone badly, Rora shoved into the company of boys who were hankering after the rabbit. But then, all men wanted a bunny, didn’t they?
There had been a few other attempts, earnest, by other friends. A blind date once, which had proved disastrous, because her date had come out of the closet to her and the friend who’d set it up, saying he couldn’t hide who he was anymore. And several various times she’d been shoved in with someone at group things and parties. Occasionally, she’d made friends with these guys, but they’d never been romantically interested.
She hadn’t always been this accepting of it.
There had been a point in time, when she was about nineteen, when she had hidden away for seven months in a deep depression, bursting into tears if she even saw a happy couple walking together on the street. She had spent too much time trying to determine what it was that was wrong with her.
Eventually, however, she was able to have a blunt and realistic conversation with herself about it, wherein she examined the evidence. She put forward a number of ideas: maybe she was too fat or too thin. Maybe she was too smart or too dumb. Maybe it was because she wasn’t interested in sports. Maybe it was because she read romance novels. Maybe it was because she was short. Maybe it was because her thighs were too thick.
But no matter what she conjured up, she was able to think of lots of other women who had these same attributes and who’d somehow managed to find someone romantically.
That was when she settled on the subconscious repellent theory.
It made the most sense, she thought.
The point was, however, she could stop trying to improve herself, something that had never gone well in the first place, not least because she could never decide what to improve, let alone maintain motivation long enough to see any results.
In and of itself, this was a relief.
And when she knew that she could not solve the problem, she was able to think more rationally about it all. She was ready. She wanted to try sex. She was twenty-one. If she wasn’t going to attract anyone the way most people her age did, she might as well try the rite.
At least her gran would be pleased.
“Tried before by whom?” Eiren was saying. “Not by us!”
“Okay, look!” said Rora, glancing back and forth between the other two. “You have both known me since this morning. I, however, have been gathering evidence about how men interact with me foryears. I’m not incorrect about this, I promise you.”
Tawny considered. “Maybe that makes sense.”
“And maybe you have a negativity bias, like all preykin!” said Eiren. “Come on, we’re all wired to think the worst about everything, because warier creatures avoid danger better and stay alive.”
“You both have to admit,” said Rora, “that there are some people who just never find anyone. We all know that one aunt. Not everyone has that aunt, but she’s not that uncommon. The childless aunt, the one who no one ever wanted.”