Page 17 of Party Favors

“I have faith in you. There, those people are leaving.” She ushered me over to a booth that hadn’t been cleaned yet. It was too big for one person, but Vella was determined.

“You should stay,” I told her, wanting to use her security blanket–ness to keep me feeling safe.

Vella shook her head. “Since I know you’re not going to approach anyone, someone will have to come over and talk to you. And sitting next to me will make you unapproachable.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

She gave me a pointed look. “We both know I’m very good at scaring men off. And the kind of guys who would be brave enough to say hi are not the type you’d be interested in.”

Vella was right about that. She and I had polar opposite tastes in men. She tended to like hipsters who cheated on her constantly because of their deeply held beliefs that monogamy was a social construct, while I was apparently drawn to men who were getting engaged to other women.

“Do a quick Wonder Woman spin,” she said.

“What?” My eyes darted around, making sure no one was watching us, because Vella was going to get her way. She usually did.

“Spin. It’ll give you a boost.”

I swallowed hard and then did as she requested, spinning a couple of times before settling back into place. No one seemed to have noticed and I didn’t hear any mocking laughter, so I figured I was safe.

“Good luck!” she said. She made her way over to a barstool and waved the bartender down.

Not seeing another option, I sat in the booth, scooting over toward the middle. I felt silly sitting there by myself and a bit pathetic. The waitress came by, apologized for the messy table, and quickly started cleaning it.

“Are you from Monterra?” I asked, recognizing her accent.

“Sì,” she said. “Most of the waitstaff are. Many of the patrons, as well.”

That made me feel a little better because it was honestly exciting to be surrounded by so many Monterrans.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“I’ll have a bottle of Heineken,” I told her.

She said she’d be right back and I surveyed the room. This booth was in a far corner, which was probably going to defeat Vella’s plans of a guy coming over to hit on me.

Although that was fine with me.

I watched Vella for a couple of minutes. She gave off a very do-not-speak-to-me vibe, but it didn’t keep men away. If anything, they seemed to take it as some kind of personal challenge, and to nobody’s surprise, there were two men vying to chat her up already.

It was probably why she assumed that she could stick me in this corner and men would be lining up to come over and speak to me. I wished she understood that for the rest of us, life did not work that way.

But to my great delight, someone did come over to meet me.

It was a big, beautiful, all-white dog, a breed I didn’t recognize. She climbed up onto the bench, coming over to sit next to me.

“Hello there,” I cooed at her, offering her my hand. She leaned her head forward, as if expecting a pet, and I happily obliged. Her tongue lolled out as I started scratching behind her ears.

She was wearing an ID tag.

“Basta,” I read. “Is that your name?” I asked, still petting her. I grabbed my phone with my free hand to look it up. It meantstoporenoughin Italian. “Which means your owner is probably from Monterra and you are a particularly mischievous girl.”

She gave me the sweetest expression, as if that were the furthest thing from the truth, and I smiled at her.

“You know, I read once that scientists say dogs get a rush of oxytocin when they look at people, just like we get when we look at you,” I said as I continued to rub her ears. “That dogs think humans are adorable.”

Basta made a short grunting noise, like she agreed with me.

My phone beeped and I had a message from Vella.

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