Page 75 of Betting on the Best Friend
“What’s wrong with it?” I look down at my jeans and white blouse. “It’s comfortable but classic. Museum appropriate and good for lots of walking. It’s a triumph.”
“You already wore that. On two dates,” Sami says.
“No, I haven’t.” I check Instagram. My grid looks crazy. All of the pictures on the top three rows of my page show me with a guy. A different guy. And that I’ve already worn this outfit twice.
If I stumbled across my profile as a stranger, I’d think I was witnessing a dating experiment with the poor woman in the photos trying to keep up her game face. If any of my mutuals with Niles is paying attention, it only looks try-hard. If Niles is paying attention, I doubt these pictures bother him.
I check his profile. The only new photo of him in the six weeks since his engagement shows him mid-golf swing.
“I don’t care,” I say.
“About what?” Joey asks.
“Niles’s engagement.” I test this by looking up his fiancée’s account, something I’ve forgotten to do in the last two weeks. “His future wifey posted a picture from their engagement shoot, and I really don’t care.”
I stifle a sigh and close the app. “Probably not a point to going on these dates anymore. I’m over it.”
“You can’t be,” Ava says. “This was only ever barely about showing up Niles.”
“We haven’t found you the guy yet,” Sami says. “I’m not even close to giving up.”
“Giving up on what?” Madison asks, walking out of the house. “Saved your outfit. You’re welcome.”
She deposits my mushroom needlepoint belt, matching taupe ballet flats, and a bright green cardigan in my lap.
“She’s trying to quit the bet,” Sami tells her.
“I’m not in the bet,” I protest. “And I don’t want to go on dates anymore.”
“What? No, you can’t quit,” Madison objects. “I’m going to win.”
“You can’t make me go out,” I tell her. “I give y’all the illusion of control, butillusionis the operative word.”
Josh comes out with two plates and hands one to Sami and the other to Ava. “Did you just invoke the ‘you’re not the boss of me’ defense, Ruby?”
“Shut up and omelet, bro,” I say, mimicking Joey.
Josh laughs. “Back with yours in a minute.”
“I’m serious,” I say, realizing it’s true as Josh heads back to the kitchen. “I don’t want to do it anymore. The dates or anything else. The only thing that sounds good to me is sitting around and being miserable about Charlie until we get our situation fixed.”
They all look at each other, worried.
“I don’t care if it’s a paradox,” I insist. “That’s the only thing that can make me feel better.”
“You want to wallow?” Madison asks, sounding doubtful. “Does not compute.”
Of course it wouldn’t compute for Madison, whose philosophy is “if it’s not a good time, it’s a good time to do something else.”
“Girls, we need to consult,” Sami announces. “Let’s meet in the kitchen.”
They shoo Josh out, and he delivers omelets to me and Joey.
We can hear the girls in the kitchen well enough to tell it’s a debate, but I can’t make out the words. Whatever they’re arguing about lets me eat two-thirds of my breakfast before they file back out to the patio.
“We’ve reached a decision,” Madison says. “We’ll end the bet on one condition.”
I smirk at her. “You have no leverage. You can’t set any conditions.”
