HAZEL

Unfortunately, I spend the Saturday morning after date number two searching for a new stylist.

I’m scrolling through Yelp reviews when Winnie starts to bark, her wet nose pressed against the front room window. Poor Josh and his once-spotless glass.

Winnie can barely contain herself and races back and forth, tail wagging furiously and feet slipping along the wood floors. There are only two people who get that kind of reaction. One of them woke up with a headache and has gone back to bed, and the other is my mom.

“Calm down,” I say, pulling her back by her collar so I can open the door. “You’d think nobody pays attention to you.”

“There she is,” my mom croons. “There’s my pretty, good girl.”

I’m shocked—shocked, I say—to find that she’s not speaking to me.

Winnie dances around Mom’s legs as she comes inside, and I close the door behind her. “I’m so happy to see you, too, Mom!”

“You hush,” she says, and hands me a white paper bag that smells suspiciously like blueberry muffins. All is forgiven. Doing a quick glance toward the kitchen she adds, “I see you haven’t burned the place down.”

I deliver a thumbs-up over my shoulder. “So far so good!”

Thank God my apartment should finally be ready soon. I’m excited to be back in my space with my rabbit and bird and fish. Still, I’ll admit I’m going to miss cohabitating with my new best friend.

Winnie follows Mom as she crosses the room, settling comfortably at her feet beneath the kitchen table. “Where’s that captivating boy?” Mom asks.

I pull a couple of plates from the dishwasher and put a muffin on each one. “You know, most moms would have more to say about their daughter living with a random dude than how captivating he is.”

“Are you saying I’m wrong?”

“Oh, not at all. But don’t let that face fool you, he’s a captivating pain in the ass.”

“Must be why you get along so well,” she says with a winning smile.

“Ha, ha.”

“So where is he?”

The coffeemaker gurgles in the background and I carry the plates to the table. “He went back to bed.”

She looks at her watch and then back up to me, lips turned up in a knowing smirk. “What did you do to him?”

“Me?” I do my best to look innocent. She isn’t buying it. Busted, I set her muffin down in front of her and turn back to the kitchen. “Let’s just say date number two was a doozy.”

“Remind me again? The coffee guy and—” She pauses when she sees me nodding. “Oh dear.”

“Yeah.”

“You guys were excited for that one. It wasn’t fun?”

I’m not sure I’d describe it as fun, but it was definitely something.

Going off what little I’d told him about McKenzie, Josh had arranged for us to spend the day fishing on the Columbia. I’d been so excited I was up and dressed and in the kitchen making sandwiches before he was even out of bed.

We were set to meet and check in at the dock before sunrise. Hot barista—aka Kota—was already there, a drink tray with four coffees in hand. Points for the boy. I made a mental note to thank Dave, because looking at Kota? Dave did not oversell.

The sky was sherbet-colored and blurry, the air still dawn-cold while we introduced ourselves. Kota had dark hair that was shaved over his ear and dyed red at the tips. He had earrings, and a tattoo that peeked out the back collar of his shirt. I’m not even going to lie, I was smitten.

Then McKenzie pulled up.

We’d been standing at the side of the boat, conversing easily as we warmed our hands on the cups of coffee, when a red Honda Civic pulled into the lot. I noticed the way Kota stumbled in his story about the time Dave ate a bad egg salad sandwich at the shop. But he was still talking, and he was still pretty, so I didn’t let it distract me too much.

I heard a car door close and then the sound of boots crunching across gravel echoed through the early morning. I turned to McKenzie and smiled, waving an arm over my head. As she waved back Josh quieted, obviously checking her out. I assume it went something like this: Hot, good body, not immediately crazy. I owe Hazel big.

At least it should have.

But next to me, I felt Kota stiffen, and watched as recognition straightened his easy smile. As McKenzie neared, I saw it flicker across her face, too.

Huh.

Shrugging it off, I rushed forward to meet her.

“You’re here!” I said, wrapping her into a tight hug. She smelled exactly like the salon I’d grown to love and I hoped Josh was paying attention as I subliminally threatened his balls if he somehow screwed this up. I stepped away, bouncing a little on my feet and clapping. “I’m so happy you came.”

“Of course!” Her eyes flickered over my shoulder, her spine stiffening.

I turned, looping an arm through hers as I led us back toward the guys. “Everything okay?”

She fell into step at my side, covertly looking at me from beneath her lashes. “What’s that guy’s name?”

The waves crashed against the pier as the tide came in, and a seagull squawked overhead. “That’s Josh! The friend I told you about. I swear you’re going to love him, he—”

“No, the other one.”

I glanced up at them, and then back again. “His name’s Kota. Do you know him?”

“Sort of,” she said under her breath, just as we reached the others.

“Josh, this is McKenzie.” Josh reached out to shake her hand and—huh. He gave her his pretty-boy smile. Not the small, sweet version he saves for the cashier at the grocery store, but the one I love—the one that reaches his eyes and carves a dimple into his cheek.

His unexpected, sun-coming-out smile.

Easy, Josh, let her settle in before you hit her with both barrels.

“And Kenzie,” I said, “this is—”

“Hey, McKenzie,” Kota cut in, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Josh glanced to me, and then back at them. “You two know each other?”

“We went out a few tim—” Kota started to say, before Kenzie held up her palm.

“Fucked. We fucked a few times—and then he didn’t call me back.”

“Euuusssh” was pretty much the only sound I could make as the awkward ballooned around us. I looked to Josh for help.

He clapped his hands in front of him. “Maybe we should split up and do something else?”

McKenzie took a step forward, hooking her arm through Josh’s. “Not necessary.” Her smile was aimed at him but the venom in her voice was all for Kota. “I’m here with you.” A meaningful pause. “He doesn’t matter.”

“Mmokay?” The plea for help in Josh’s eyes was as clear as a flare shot up over his head.

We turned at the sound of our guide descending the plank that led to the dock, clipboard in hand. We checked in and were welcomed aboard and given slickers and boots. Introductions were made before a brief spiel about life preservers and where we were allowed on the boat, and where we weren’t. We were told to watch for ropes on the deck because they’re everywhere and dangerous and easy to trip over. The words death trap were definitely used. We talked about motion sickness and were told exactly where we could barf. I met Josh’s eyes over Kenzie’s head and was almost giddy to see him already smiling in my direction and mouthing the words, Not on my shoes.

Inside jokes, the sign of a true bestie.

Things seemed fine as we headed out on the water and started to fish.

I listened to everything our guide said, and did as the deckhand instructed. Kota was at my side, working his hot-dude charm. Despite the awkward start to the date, he was actually pretty funny. Even so, it was hard not to let my attention wander to where Kenzie—clearly putting on a show for Kota’s benefit—was laughing and clinging to Josh’s arm like he’d just proposed to her.

At one point my line pulled and began to disappear off the reel; whatever was on the other end was really trying to get away. The deckhand came over to help, as did Josh, but Kota and McKenzie sort of disappeared into the background. By the time I had my fish held in front of me, they were off on their own.

Josh eventually caught a fish and we took a few photos, but when an hour had gone by and our dates still hadn’t returned, we dug into our lunches and started to just … talk. Josh told me a little more about the kids they mentored down at the office, about Emily’s wedding and how he never worried about her, even for a second, because Dave was exactly who he would have picked.

I talked a little about my mom and Winnie and being excited for school to start again. I told him about the time I ran into my gynecologist at parent-teacher night and he pretended not to recognize me.

“That doesn’t exactly seem odd,” Josh said, leaning over to check his line. Occasionally a sturgeon would make itself known by jumping off in the distance, but nowhere near the hooks. At least, not yet.

“Why do they do that?” I asked, watching the shiny body flip through the air before landing with a splash. “I get why they do it when they’re hooked—I’d put up a fight, too. But this seems counterproductive. Like, you’re a fish and people are trying to find you. Hide!”

Josh laughed and rested his elbows on the edge of the boat. He was so handsome. Once he got over this Tabby thing he was going to have women lining up. But now, I could still see the reserve pinching his shoulders in, making the hesitation he felt spread across every one of his features. “I don’t know if anyone has asked the sturgeons directly, but I think it’s to clear their gills? Or maybe avoid predators.”

I squinted off into the distance. “Maybe it’s just fun.”

Josh grew quiet and I looked over to see him watching me. “I never thought of it that way before.” He turned back to look over the river; the water had turned a little rougher and we leaned into each other, bracing instinctively. “I can’t believe I’m encouraging this conversation, but you were telling me about your gynecologist snubbing you and I’m actually curious to hear how it turned out.”

“So I stopped in the middle of the gymnasium and smiled at him—not my courtesy smile, but my real one—and he just walked by.”

“Maybe he didn’t see you.”

“He definitely saw me—and don’t get me wrong, I run into guys all the time who’ve seen my vagina and pretend not to know who I am. Things don’t work out and that’s fine. But I paid this guy.”

Josh’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Maybe he was busy. Maybe he didn’t want to mix business with pleasure. I’ve seen you avoid students when we’re out.”

“That’s different, and I only ignore the brats, or their fathers if I’m not wearing a bra.” Josh shook his head but I pushed on, eager for him to see my point. “Shouldn’t there be a certain level of public acknowledgment when you’ve seen a person’s genitals?”

Josh looked at me with the expression he uses when he’s hoping I didn’t just say something but he’s pretty sure I did. “Oh my God, Hazel.” But this time his smile was too big to bite back. “So what did you do?”

“Nothing,” I said, shoulders slumping. “I guess that was a pretty anticlimactic story.”

“Not really. At least I know next-day protocol if we ever see each other’s genitals.”

“Which we won’t.”

“Which we definitely won’t,” he agreed, and then turned toward the sound of raised voices.

Kota was walking toward us, hands in front of him as he finished zipping up his pants.

You have got to be kidding me.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away again?” Kenzie stumbled a little as she crossed the deck behind him, the boat lurching on the uneven water. Her hair was a mess, her life vest unfastened and twisted around her torso. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they’d been up to. “By the way, I faked it.”

Kota stopped, slowly turning to face her.

I gasped.

Josh let out a low, sympathetic whistle.

“Didn’t sound like it back there,” Kota said.

Josh stepped away from the railing. “Everything okay here?”

Kenzie looked ready to spit fire, and got close enough to poke Kota with a finger to the chest. “Like I said, faked. You probably couldn’t tell the difference because you’re so used to hearing it.”

Kota knocked her finger away. “This is exactly why I stopped calling. You’re way too much work.”

The next part happened kind of fast. McKenzie lunged for Kota and Josh tried to step between them. It was a blur of life jackets and me shouting about rope and death traps, just as the boat lurched upward. I ended up on my ass and when I stood again and looked around, Josh was gone.

..........

“He fell in the river?” Mom stares up at me, her breakfast abandoned on the plate.

“Yeah. He was wearing his life jacket and they were able to get him out, but he hit his head on one of the steel poles as he went in.”

“Oh my God. Is he okay?”

“I’m fine.” Josh walks slowly into the kitchen, a new angry bruise the size of a strawberry across his forehead. Winnie trails guiltily behind him. “Just a little slow to start this morning. And in case you were wondering, it’s hard to sleep with a sixty-pound dog on your chest.”

“She loves you,” I say.

He looks at me with a tired but barely restrained smirk. “Her love is about as suffocating as yours.”

I smile brightly at him from the other side of the island. “You say the nicest things.”

Mom pulls out a chair. “Josh, honey, sit down. I brought breakfast and Hazel was making coffee.” To me she adds, “Are you finished giving him concussions or shall we prepare for a third?”

I move to object but Josh speaks before I can. “I’m fine, really,” he insists, but sits anyway. “Just glad I showered last night before I went to bed. Who knew the river smelled so bad?”

I reach around to set a plate in front of him, and press a careful kiss to the bruise-free side of his head. “I think it was less the river and more the fish-soaked blanket they wrapped you in after pulling you out.”

..........

Having learned a lesson about letting our inner circles cross, for date three we cast a much bigger net—so to speak.

The Sunday after our disastrous outing with Kota and Kenzie, I meet Molly on the bus to the farmer’s market, where I buy a paycheck’s worth of produce to cook a fancy thank-you dinner for Josh for letting me stay with him the past two months. Although Molly is a random stranger, she is also gorgeous, and a sales rep for a local organic cosmetics company. I’ll admit to having a slight ulterior motive here: Molly is friendly and was as charming as one can be during a single sixteen-minute bus ride across the city—so yes, I do think Josh will like her. But Molly’s winged liner is also perfect, and even if things don’t work out between her and Josh—hey, I can at least pick up a few makeup tips at dinner, right?

According to Josh, my date—Mark—is a former client of his, and Josh has nothing but great things to say about him. Apparently Mark is tall and good-looking and a genuinely great guy. They haven’t seen each other for a while, but Josh is sure we are going to hit it off.

Turns out, Josh is right about all of it: my date is tall, good-looking, and we definitely hit it off, but there is one tiny surprise …

Mark is early in transition into Margaret, and thought she was being set up with Josh’s male roommate.

Turns out, Josh called her from his car and the reception was a little spotty along the way. Margaret made sure to clarify that Josh had heard her explain that things were a little … different these days, but with Josh’s Bluetooth cutting in and out and clueless to the details he was missing, he assured her with a “Yeah, definitely. I’ll text you with the time and place,” and ended the call.

It might not go entirely according to plan, but we do have a great night and my winged liner has never looked better.

..........

My apartment is ready a couple of weeks before school begins, during the very last humid gasp of summer.

As happy as I’m sure Josh is to get me and Winnie out of his clean living space, I think he might almost miss us.

A little.

I say this because by the last day I think even Josh was surprised by how normal it was starting to feel to live together. Loud? Yes. Chaotic? Absolutely. But also: comfortable. Dare I say easy?

On a typical day, Josh would drag himself out of bed, Winnie trailing sleepily behind him, to find the cup of coffee I’d poured for him on the counter. I would cook some variation of burnt breakfast food, and we would talk as we ate, text all day, and then come home, eat dinner together, and fall asleep watching TV. It was as close to being in a normal relationship as I’ve ever been. I think it’s been good for Josh, too: the name Tabby hasn’t been brought up in weeks.

I’ve always loved my apartment and living alone, but as I walk through the freshly painted door and stop on the new wood floors to survey what they’ve done, it’s impossible not to notice how empty it feels.

Winnie seems to have reached a similar conclusion. Sniffing a path through the doorway she does a quick circle of the front room before stepping outside again, emitting a heavy sigh, and then flopping down on the mat.

“I know what you mean,” I tell her, making my way inside and dropping my bags on the newly delivered couch. Other than this, there isn’t much furniture. A lot of it was ruined when the pipe broke, and most of what could be salvaged was old and not really worth saving anyway. Like every twenty-something I know, I ordered this new one at IKEA, but it seems a million miles away from the soft, worn-in leather in Josh’s living room.

Winnie is reluctant to admit that this is where we’ll be staying. Even after I coax her inside she insists on camping out near the door. Stubborn. I unpack a few things and get the rest of the animals situated, put new sheets on the new mattress and inspect the updated bathroom fixtures and kitchen cabinets. With nothing more than pet food in the house and no real desire to rectify that tonight, I order dinner and work on untangling the box of cords and hooking up the TV again.

I’m at the stage in the technology setup process where I’m whimpering and facedown on the living room floor when my phone chimes from the corner I threw it into not long ago.

Fondness squeezes at my heart but I push it away before I begin typing out a reply.

I think about that one as I look around the bright, clean living room. Empty walls, a stack of boxes that need to be unpacked, a disgruntled labradoodle. I suppose it could be worse.

I snap a few photos, including one where half my face takes up most of the screen, and another where a mass of tangled cords lies next to a sad, dark TV.

Because Josh is a caretaker, my phone rings almost immediately.

“Hazel’s House of Hedonism.”

“Do you want me to come help?” he asks, and there’s a feeling inside my chest. Victory, yes, because I was hoping he’d come over, but something else, too. Like warm rain, a warmer blanket. I really want to see him. And I mean, so does Winnie. Look at her. “I could hook up the TV while you work on other stuff.”

As a strong, independent woman, I should tell him no, that I’ll take care of it myself—which I would, eventually—but RuPaul’s Drag Race is on tonight and saying no would be both inefficient and inconvenient.

“I ordered dinner,” I say instead. More than enough for two, now that I think of it. “Winnie will be happy to see you. Maybe she’ll even stop sulking.”

“Let me shower and I’ll be over in twenty.”

“Deal. I’ll probably still be in this same spot when you get here so let yourself in.”

“Got it. Oh, and Haze?”

I smile into my phone. “Hmm?”

“Tell Winnie I miss her, too.”