Matched

"Will I see you again?" he asks, his voice hopeful. "Give me your cell number." He takes out his smartphone. "I'll call you."

I comply, although I don’t really care if I ever see him again. I'll just block his number.

He leans over to kiss me but I turn my head so that he ends up kissing my cheek, his hand on my arm.

"See you!" I say and pull away, making a beeline for the front door.

Before I can leave, Marina grabs me and pulls me to the side. "Where do you think you’re going? It's only been two hours."

"Jon left after only an hour."

"Yeah, but he's getting some. And he doesn't need any. It's you I'm concerned about. You're the one who needs it."

"I don't need it," I say, although that's a bald-faced lie. "I want it, but I want it with someone I'm attracted to."

"You're not attracted to Evan?"

I shake my head and try to edge my way past Marina to the door. "Nope. Lady parts not responding. Sorry!"

"Oh, that's too bad." She frowns and examines me, her hands on her hips. "You and I are going to have to go over that questionnaire again. Maybe you're not answering truthfully?"

"Yeah, okay, we'll do it. Next week. Gotta go," I say when I see Evan approaching. "Bye!" I say and wave at Marina and Evan.

I leave and close the front door behind me, relieved that I've escaped having to say anything more to either of them.

I get in my car and drive off, glad to finally be free of the party, Evan, and Marina with her judging eyes.

I arrive home without being stopped by the police and go inside my place, locking the door and arming the alarm system. Then I plop onto my sofa and turn on the television, scanning the channels to see what I can find to watch. I should try to go to bed so I can get up and ride my bike before going to work, but I'm wide awake.

I find nothing to watch, so I switch on my Apple TV and watch Netflix instead, selecting the next episode of OITNB and pulling the crocheted afghan throw blanket around my shoulders.

I don't even know when I fall asleep.

Sunday is my decompression day, when I do nothing. I'm not even meeting the girls for brunch this weekend, and so I have all day to think about what happened with Jon and that kiss – two kisses. I don't know what happened but whatever it was, it wasn't good.

I spend all day on the sofa, watching Netflix and eating ever carb I can find in my cupboards, ordering in when I run out of food and all I have left is pickles and green olives.

I go to bed Sunday night feeling disgusted with myself for wasting an entire day, but I didn’t want to face Marina and I didn’t want to go into work to hear all about Jon's date with Mermaid Girl and see his self-satisfied grin.

Monday morning, my cell alarm goes off and I wake, the early morning light streaming in from the picture windows overlooking the Bay. I wipe my eyes and notice I've drooled all over the throw pillow. My back aches and I really should have brushed my teeth before falling asleep but the alcohol made me so tired, I didn’t bother before I started to watch television.

I check my cell. It's seven a.m., and I'm late, having slept through my first alarm at six thirty. I get up and go through my routine, then go outside and get on my bike for a half-hour ride along the road that runs along the highway. The exercise will blow off all my fatigue, and clear my head so I can go to work refreshed.

When I get back from my ride, I shove down some yogurt and eat a banana, then I have a shower and get dressed for work. Within an hour, I'm on my way to Pacifica's offices, ready to face another day of reviewing specs on the new satellite.

I climb the stairs to the third-floor offices and open the door to find Jon in his office, his laptop open and his cell to his ear. He's busy talking to someone, but glances up and waves at me as I pass by.

I wave back and think he looks a big haggard, and I wonder if he hasn't spent another late night with Mermaid Girl. Then I kick myself mentally. He doesn't do second dates.

In my office, I try to focus on work, but I can't help but imagine Jon and Mermaid Girl going at it. Would she be a squealer? I can't imagine she doesn't make a lot of noise. She seems like the enthusiastic type.

After about fifteen minutes, Jon pops his head in the door, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Have you had your coffee? I picked this up for you on my way."

"Oh, no, I haven’t yet, " I say, and he comes in and hands me the cup. "Thanks."

I take a sip. He must have heated it up in the microwave because it's steaming hot. I glance at him. "How long have you been here?"