Read Online The Last Single Girl by Caitie Quinn, Bria Quinlan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Caitie Quinn, Bria Quinlan
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Short-Story, Romantic Comedy, Anthologies, Collections & Anthologies, Holidays, ro, online dating, New Year's Eve
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cabbie. It was going to be a long night. I'd thought about getting there late or, at the very least, right as things were starting. Leave as little room for all the smug Claire comments and group pity as possible.
But then I got annoyed. Annoyed at Claire. Annoyed at the other girls for not standing up to her. Annoyed at myself for caring, for not standing up for myself. Annoyed it mattered that I was it. That everyone else was ready to climb on Noah's ark and I was the last of my kind. Just like the poor unicorn.
The point of having friends was not just to have people to do stuff with, but to have people who had your back. Who were there for you.
I may have been the Last Single Girl, but I had been for longer than I realized. The Alphabet didn't count because I'd never let myself get close to Becca and Angie because of Claire.
Again. Claire.
And whose fault was that?
I paid the driver when we got to the door and headed in. Claire could say what she wanted, but I was out, I looked amazing, and it was New Year's Eve. If she wanted to try to ruin it for me, she was going to have to do something extreme. Like burn the building down, or show my junior high pictures on a Jumbotron.
I brushed through the entry, dropping my wrap off at the coatroom and scanning the party. It was mostly groups of friends, a few tables of women. True to its name, the booze was already flowing and the prohibition themed drinks were being passed around like people were liquoring up before a raid.
A large man at the door stopped me as I went to step into the crowd.
"Ticket?"
Leave it to Claire. It didn't dawn on me we'd have to have a ticket. I'd seen her four days ago. I'd paid her four days ago. I couldn't help but wonder if this was a power play, if she'd oops-forgotten-air-quotes my ticket.
Make that tickets. Plural.
"I'm with Claire Christel's group. She has the tickets. I'm Sarah Gable."
The man picked up a clipboard from the stand behind him and flipped through. "Gable. Sarah. I have you down here as two tickets."
He glanced behind me as if I was hiding a date.
Geez. I wasn't going to take it from a doorman too.
"It looks like I'm here solo, doesn't it? Not that there's anything wrong with that or it has anything to do with the unreliableness of your gender. Maybe, before you start doing that look-around-innocently mocking thing, you should stop and wonder exactly what he did to manage to not be here on New Year's Eve, right?"
"Um. Sorry Ms. Gable. You're at Table Eight."
The seventh wheel at table eight for eight. Of course I was.
I made a beeline for the bar, planning to pick up a drink, and if I was lucky a date.
I hadn't even made it through the line when the goosebumps raced down my spine. Definitely a Wicked Witch alert.
"Sarah, we're so glad you made it." Claire clung to a huge man. He was easily six-three and could probably bench lift me. In a Volkswagen.
"Of course I made it. I have a ticket. We planned this in September."
Had she really thought I just wouldn't show up? Probably. Claire was extremely competitive. This was most likely one more way she wanted to win. I have a boyfriend. He's big and strong and good looking… and present.
Fine. Whatever.
I turned toward the very large man and smiled. "You must be Marcus. We've heard some great things about you. I'm so glad you could make it out for New Year's."
"Sarah." Marcus tried to offer his hand, but Claire wasn't letting go long enough for a casual handshake. "I'm glad you could make it."
"Why wouldn't I have?" I kept my voice sweet and my smile a tad bit confused.
"I… ah…" Marcus glanced at Claire, looking for some help. "I'd heard you might not be feeling well tonight."
"Just tonight?"
"Well…" Okay, so Marcus wasn't the quickest on his feet.
And Claire was letting him take all the heat for doing what she would have done anyway. Only crueler. She should just wear the Dalmatian fur coat and get it over with.
"So, where's the mystery man?"
There it
But then I got annoyed. Annoyed at Claire. Annoyed at the other girls for not standing up to her. Annoyed at myself for caring, for not standing up for myself. Annoyed it mattered that I was it. That everyone else was ready to climb on Noah's ark and I was the last of my kind. Just like the poor unicorn.
The point of having friends was not just to have people to do stuff with, but to have people who had your back. Who were there for you.
I may have been the Last Single Girl, but I had been for longer than I realized. The Alphabet didn't count because I'd never let myself get close to Becca and Angie because of Claire.
Again. Claire.
And whose fault was that?
I paid the driver when we got to the door and headed in. Claire could say what she wanted, but I was out, I looked amazing, and it was New Year's Eve. If she wanted to try to ruin it for me, she was going to have to do something extreme. Like burn the building down, or show my junior high pictures on a Jumbotron.
I brushed through the entry, dropping my wrap off at the coatroom and scanning the party. It was mostly groups of friends, a few tables of women. True to its name, the booze was already flowing and the prohibition themed drinks were being passed around like people were liquoring up before a raid.
A large man at the door stopped me as I went to step into the crowd.
"Ticket?"
Leave it to Claire. It didn't dawn on me we'd have to have a ticket. I'd seen her four days ago. I'd paid her four days ago. I couldn't help but wonder if this was a power play, if she'd oops-forgotten-air-quotes my ticket.
Make that tickets. Plural.
"I'm with Claire Christel's group. She has the tickets. I'm Sarah Gable."
The man picked up a clipboard from the stand behind him and flipped through. "Gable. Sarah. I have you down here as two tickets."
He glanced behind me as if I was hiding a date.
Geez. I wasn't going to take it from a doorman too.
"It looks like I'm here solo, doesn't it? Not that there's anything wrong with that or it has anything to do with the unreliableness of your gender. Maybe, before you start doing that look-around-innocently mocking thing, you should stop and wonder exactly what he did to manage to not be here on New Year's Eve, right?"
"Um. Sorry Ms. Gable. You're at Table Eight."
The seventh wheel at table eight for eight. Of course I was.
I made a beeline for the bar, planning to pick up a drink, and if I was lucky a date.
I hadn't even made it through the line when the goosebumps raced down my spine. Definitely a Wicked Witch alert.
"Sarah, we're so glad you made it." Claire clung to a huge man. He was easily six-three and could probably bench lift me. In a Volkswagen.
"Of course I made it. I have a ticket. We planned this in September."
Had she really thought I just wouldn't show up? Probably. Claire was extremely competitive. This was most likely one more way she wanted to win. I have a boyfriend. He's big and strong and good looking… and present.
Fine. Whatever.
I turned toward the very large man and smiled. "You must be Marcus. We've heard some great things about you. I'm so glad you could make it out for New Year's."
"Sarah." Marcus tried to offer his hand, but Claire wasn't letting go long enough for a casual handshake. "I'm glad you could make it."
"Why wouldn't I have?" I kept my voice sweet and my smile a tad bit confused.
"I… ah…" Marcus glanced at Claire, looking for some help. "I'd heard you might not be feeling well tonight."
"Just tonight?"
"Well…" Okay, so Marcus wasn't the quickest on his feet.
And Claire was letting him take all the heat for doing what she would have done anyway. Only crueler. She should just wear the Dalmatian fur coat and get it over with.
"So, where's the mystery man?"
There it
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