The Accidental Girlfriend

I was getting off track.

The morning was beautiful. The kind of morning that sadistic directors in romantic comedy movies ruined by sending stupid texts or having an idiot knock at the door. You know, that stereotypical bullshit where the birds were singing and the sun was shi—

And three knocks sounded at the door.

I almost dropped my coffee cup.

“I have carbs!” Madi’s voice was muffled as she knocked again.

Ah-ha.

There was the idiot who knocked at the door.

“What kind of carbs?” I shouted back.

“All of them!”

I’d take it. “It’s open!”

“Ugh.” Madi shoved the door open. “You made me stand there like an idiot, why?”

I shrugged and grabbed another coffee cup, this one emblazoned with the phrase, “This is probably alcohol,” to make Madi a drink. “It was for my own amusement. You’re awake early.”

“Ugh,” she repeated, tucking her hair behind her ear. “The couple upstairs were having a blazing row at six a.m., so I went for a run and decided to come over here.” She set a big, brown paper bag with my favorite bakery’s logo on the side on the island and slid onto a stool. “How did your non-date go last night?”

I groaned, pushing her coffee toward her. “He was beautiful, Madi. It was as though he’d walked right out of a wet dream and materialized at my door.”

She choked on her mouthful of coffee. “All right, then. And the rest?”

I gave her a quick run-down of the evening before launching into my rant about Claudia. “Honestly, she’s the kind of person you’d throw your shoe at. I swear to God; she’d make a saint contemplate murder. She was just…catty.”

“And you sound like a regular nice girl right now.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not always a bitch.”

“Only days that end in ‘y’, right?”

“Right.” I dove my hand into the bakery bag and pulled out individually packed pastries. “But I’m, like, your friendly neighborhood bitch. I’m here for your side-eyes and your resting bitch face and the occasional catty comment. She’s the smug bitch who saunters around on a horse so high that, when she falls, she’ll hit the ground so hard that she’ll go straight to hell.”

Madi took a pastry, laughing. “You’re right. You are the friendly neighborhood bitch. You should put that on one of your beloved mugs.”

I glanced at my cupboard full of slogan mugs. “I might just do that.”

“Right, while you order that, tell me more about Mason. He sounds like a snack and a half.” She tore her croissant in half and waved one half at me. “He’s the kind of guy I’d like to lick up and down with—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “I know. He is. Honestly, if I wanted to date, then he’d be the perfect guy. But I don’t, so he isn’t.” I pulled my own buttered croissant out from the bag. Screw the toast I’d eaten—there was no such thing as too many bread products. “Besides, did I mention his ex cheated on him? He said he doesn’t want a relationship.”

“And you’re totally fine with all that?”

“Mad, I went on the date because you, Tina, and Iz made me. You guys are the only reason I ever put that bullshit ad up.” I held up a bit of my croissant. “Without that, it never would have happened. Was Mason hot? Yes. Was I attracted to him? Yes. I can move on and live my life perfectly fine without ripping off his pants and riding his penis like a motorized bull.”

That’s what dirty dreams and vibrators were for.

“Can you?” Madi asked. “Because that was pretty intense.”

“Oh, my God, yes.” Laughing, I wiped my mouth and picked up my coffee. “Look, I know nothing about the guy. I literally spent the night looking pretty and talking about, well, I don’t even know. But it’s not like we were gazing into each other’s eyes over a steak dinner. We had fucking McDonald’s as a post-reunion snack. In his car.”

She burst out laughing. “That’s the most Lauren thing ever. Fancy dinner? Nah. Let’s go to the McD’s drive-thru, order a cheeseburger, and eat in your car. Perfect first date.”

I held up a hand. “Look, if a man can’t take me eating a cheeseburger in his passenger seat, he doesn’t deserve me eating his dick in his bedroom.”

She coughed violently and thumped her fist against her chest. I went to help her, but she motioned for water, so I grabbed a bottle from the fridge and uncapped it before I handed it to her.

She downed several mouthfuls of it before she set it on the countertop and looked at me. “I take the friendly neighborhood bitch thing back. Put that on a mug.”

I grinned, tearing a second croissant in two. “I’ll put that on a flag and fly it from my window if I have to.”

Madi shook her head. “This is why you’re single. The only filter you use is on Instagram.”