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HARPER

“You’re not doing this anymore,” my best friend, April, says as she storms into my bedroom. Well, my makeshift bedroom she made for me in her home office.

Thank goodness for friends like her, or I’d be living in a hotel—or worse, my parents’ house.

“I’m not twenty years old anymore.” I pull the blanket up to my neck and point the remote toward the television, raising the volume. “Besides, I have a date tonight with Chandler and Monica.”

She looks at the TV. “You’ve watched the Friends wedding episode a thousand times.”

I ignore her and continue watching my favorite show.

“You might not be twenty, but you sure as shit ain’t dead.” She pulls the covers off of me. “We’re going out!”

I suspiciously eye her and reach for the remote that fell on the floor, except she grabs it before I can and shuts the show off completely. We enter into a stare-down, just like when we were kids. Her brown eyes challenge my blues in a game of chicken. Of course, I blink first. She cheers in victory before pulling me up.

“I drove past a new bar I want to check out, and you’re coming with me,” she says.

“I don’t go bar-hopping.”

“I know. That’s why we’re going to one bar and staying.” She pulls me up off the futon. “Oh, and I bought you a new outfit today.” She winks and slaps my ass.

“Ow!” I rub my bottom as April jogs over to her room.

It’s nine o’clock at night. This time last month, I was curled up with a glass of wine and a boyfriend by my side.

On my couch. In my apartment.

The wine was a vintage pinot.

And the boyfriend went sour.

“You really shouldn’t have,” I say with a sigh as I stand in her bedroom doorway.

“You can’t slum on my couch for the rest of your life.”

“It’s a futon, and I think it’s been working out well.” I stand up a little straighter, twisting the crick in my back. “Wait. Are you kicking me out?”

She levels her eyes with mine. “You know I love having you here, but enough is enough, girl. Time for you to at least leave the house for something besides for work and food.” She shrugs her shoulders with a sly expression. “Live a little. Go have a one-night stand with a rich banker who works his ass off and doesn’t have time for a relationship.”

“No,” I say with an elongated O.

“Harper,” she sings. “There’s nothing wrong with getting laid. Lord knows, Aaron’s getting some.”

I bite the inside of my lip, trying to stifle the tears his name brings on.

She rushes up to my side. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was … God, that was insensitive of me. I was just trying to make a point. You’re gorgeous and successful and funny and smart. Just because one man couldn’t appreciate what he had in front of him doesn’t mean there isn’t someone amazing out there for you. It’s time to forget about that asshole.”

She reaches into a bag and holds up a long-sleeved minidress that’s actually pretty cute.

“You do realize it’s cold outside,” I chastise.

“Yes, but it was on sale, and it always gets hot inside bars. Besides, you have killer legs that you’ve spent too long covering up.”

“I’m a teacher,” I defend. “Below the knee is about as high as my skirts go.”

“You also had an insecure boyfriend who kept you under lock and key.”