Married This Year

by Tracey Pedersen

  “Oh, that’s easy. I’ll use my app.” She pulled out her phone and placed it on the bar as yet more drinks appeared in front of them. “Here, we need to make a list of steps—kind of like rules. Suggestions?”

  Emily was the first to speak. “I think you have to promise yourself that you’ll look at all options. No matter how unsuitable you think someone is, if they meet the requirements on the list, you have to go on a date with them.”

  “That sounds fair. How much worse could it be than what I’ve already endured?” She laughed as she typed in the first rule. “Next? Don’t talk too fast, either—I’m having trouble typing.”

  “My turn,” Andrea said. “You need to make sure you go on a minimum of two decent dates each month. If no one who meets the list appears, you have to date someone unsuitable, to help keep your hand in the game. Once you get out of practice, it’ll be harder.”

  “That sounds like crap! I don’t want to date anyone who doesn’t fit the list. If I go on two dates a month, that’ll be twenty-four dates in the year. I haven’t been on twenty-four dates in the last four years!”

  “Bad luck. Write it down. That’s why we’re making these rules, so you mix up your life a little. You can always delete it tomorrow when we’re all a bit more clear-headed.” Andrea spun her stool so she could see the dance floor. Her favourite song was now pounding from the speakers and she glanced up at the DJ booth, a frown settling on her pretty features. “Can you see anyone in the booth? Who’s even playing the music tonight? Whoever chose this set is my eternal hero.”

  “I have no idea.” Emily didn’t even turn to look. She’d long ago sworn off getting involved with any musicians or DJs. “You have to make a list of places to find a date, Jordan. Write all of these in: Tinder, eHarmony, and match.com. What others are there?”

  “Hang on, hang on, you’re going too fast.” Jordan tapped on her screen and scowled at the words that appeared.

  “Download the apps, too, while we’re here. You can set them up tomorrow and get started on your search.” Emily always was the sensible one, and she seemed to be holding her drinks a lot better than Jordan was tonight.

  “Okay, downloading Tinder now. Is that really a dating site? I feel like it’s a hook-up place.”

  “It is, but who says you can’t find true love after a hook-up?” Andrea laughed at the shocked look on Jordan’s face. “Oh, calm down. I’ll show you how to use it tomorrow.” Her attention was again drawn to the dance floor. “They couldn’t be playing recorded music, could they? I can’t see anyone up there.”

  Jordan shielded her eyes from the light, “I can’t see anyone, either.” Her eyes followed a shadow who moved around the edge of the dance floor not dancing, and suddenly he was bathed in the strobe light hanging from the ceiling. “Oh, there he is. That’s the DJ.” She pointed so Andrea could see where she was looking.

  “Oh, he’s cute. Too bad we missed our chance to capture him out here. They never leave the booth, you know, since all the girls are trying to get with them.”

  “Well, I’m not trying to get with him, but I do know what the extra item on the list should be.” Jordan swivelled on her stool, grinned at her friends, and tried hard not to slur her words. “After the bottom I just admired, my perfect man has to look fantastic in jeans!”

  ***

  Jordan rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head. Her mouth tasted like she’d eaten a bag of kitty litter—and not the fresh stuff from the box. She needed to go to the toilet, but she lay still for a moment, deciding whether she also needed to be sick. The bright sunlight streaming into the room hurt her eyes and made her head throb.

  Why didn’t I think to close the curtains before I went to bed?

  Making the decision to go to the toilet first, she tried to slide her body toward the edge of the bed. Her limbs weren’t cooperating, though, which was always a bad sign.

  She groaned and slid sideways again. Her leg touched something warm and hairy in the bed, and she cursed the damn dog who refused to sleep in his bed in the laundry unless she locked him in.

  Coming home drunk means not doing anything you should before bed. I hope I took him out to pee, or I’ll have an extra mess to clean up.

  She pushed Rex with her foot, hoping to wake him up enough to make him jump off the bed and clear her way to the bathroom. She nudged him again and he gave a muffled groan, denying her the clear access she craved. Losing patience, she shoved him with her foot; that always got him out of her bed.

  Not this time, though. His body barely moved and she ripped the pillow off her head with an exasperated sigh. When she flicked it to the side, she heard a new sound right beside her. It wasn’t the sound of a dog, but the sound of soft, human snoring. She turned to take in the sleeping form of a stranger beside her and blinked as she wondered how the hell he’d gotten there.

  Oh, God. Did I sleep with someone last night? What a stupid question. The proof is snoring right there beside you.

  She leaned up on one elbow, trying to move slowly so she wouldn’t wake him. She glanced down to confirm that Rex had never been on the bed. The warmth had been this man. There was zero recognition; she didn’t think she’d ever seen him before in her life. Things were going to get awkward once he woke up.

  Maybe I can sneak out and he’ll be gone when I come back?

  Sneak out of her own house? Leave a stranger loose here to help himself to her possessions? No, that was a very bad idea—worse than the decision she’d made to take this man home last night.

  He wasn’t unattractive; from what she could see of him lying face up with his mouth open, he was cute. A chiselled chin and a couple of days of stubble graced his face. He had high cheekbones and a recent, fashionable haircut. If he were to sit up and reveal clear, blue eyes, he could be one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen. Why was he in her bed, though? What had possessed him to go home with an obviously inebriated Jordan Parker?

  He must have been drunk, too.

  Of course! That was the only explanation she could conjure in her aching head as she slipped out her side of the bed and made for the bathroom. She took care of business and was pleased that, despite her pounding temples, she didn’t need to throw up. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and tidied her hair. Once she looked semi-presentable, she crept back to her room to weigh her options.

  While she’d been gone, the sheet had moved lower on his body; a smooth, muscled chest now confronted her. His six-pack peeked at her as her eyes wandered downward, and she suddenly realised she didn’t know if he was wearing pants. If the sheet had crept down another couple of inches, she’d have had her answer.

  She moved to her side of the bed without making a sound, and her eyes widened as she saw the contents of her small evening bag spread across the dresser. Her phone, some coins, and her credit cards were spread everywhere. On top of them was a crumbled napkin with writing all over it. Fascinated, she picked it up and smoothed it out.

  It was a list with a heading of Jordan’s Perfect Man. Memories of last night came flooding back as she remembered Shelly’s engagement and Emily and Andrea helping her make this list while joking about the New Year’s resolution she’d made. Her head throbbed harder as she remembered making the list. Glancing at the hot man in her bed made her smile to herself; her list didn’t say one thing about how her perfect man’s face should look. That made her feel the slightest bit better about her shallow new plan to find a husband.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and looked again at her unfamiliar companion. He was more attractive than she’d thought. Maybe that was because she’d been staring at him for ten minutes, now.

  Is he the one? Did I luck into meeting the man of my dreams when I’d decided he would never show up on his own?

  As she watched him and wondered if she should wake him, he stirred and rolled toward her. She held her breath as he got closer and then relaxed as he continued snoring. She should probably let him sleep, go get some breakfast, a
nd let him come out when he was ready. Maybe he was awake and pretending to snore as he worked out how to escape through a window. As she inched away, he opened his eyes and blinked at her. She froze.

  “Hey,” he said, examining her face. “Who are you?” She laughed and tried to hide how awkward she felt. This was her first one night stand, if indeed they’d had sex, and he didn’t even remember her!

  “I’m Jordan. Who are you?”

  “I’m Fish.”

  “Fish?” She laughed out loud and then put her hand over her mouth to smother her giggle. “What kind of a name is that?”

  “It’s my DJ name. You know, like a stage name. You don’t think The Fresh Prince is Will Smith’s real name, do you?”

  She frowned at him, wondering if he knew how dumb that statement sounded. “Umm… anyway, how did you get here?”

  “I have no idea. Is this your house?”

  “It is. More important, this is my bed.” She watched as his facial features rearranged themselves from shock to recognition.

  “So it is. We must have been pretty hammered, since we can’t remember, eh?” He sat up and rubbed his hand over his face before looking more closely at her. “You can’t remember, either, can you? I’m not about to get the award for asshole of the year by being the only one who had too much to drink?”

  She laughed at the look of horror on his face, and although she was tempted to make him sweat for a while, she took pity on him straight away. “I’m afraid I don’t remember a thing. I had a lot to drink—I drank whatever I was handed, which I never do. So, don’t feel bad.” She stood up and got her larger handbag from the closet. She gathered her items from the dresser and dumped them into it before turning to him. “I’m going to make coffee. Would you like some?”

  He groaned, “Yes, please. My head is pounding.” He clutched his forehead and the sheet slipped lower.

  Jordan fled the room before it could slide right off and confirm exactly what they’d done last night.

  ***

  Half an hour later, they sat at the kitchen table with coffee mugs clutched between their fingers. It was almost lunchtime, and Jordan’s phone pinged every so often—a sign that the girls were out of bed and eager to catch up. On New Year’s Day, they had a long-standing tradition of a late lunch at their favourite café. Soon, she’d need to answer and confirm that she was coming.

  She couldn’t do that, however, until she worked out what was going on with Fish. He hadn’t run from the house the first chance he’d gotten, but he wasn’t making any romantic overtures, either. She had no idea why he was still in her cosy apartment.

  “I haven’t seen you at the club before.” All of his conversation revolved around the nightclub and his work.

  “I go there every week. You’re not the regular DJ, are you?”

  “No, I started about ten days ago. I have the Sunday and Monday night shifts as a trial.”

  Jordan resisted a new urge to push him out the door as fast as she could. He didn’t seem too bright, and she suddenly knew this relationship had already run its course. He sipped his coffee and appeared to be waiting on a reply from her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I’m still wondering why I haven’t seen you before. You’re pretty, and I usually notice the pretty girls.”

  “You already answered your own question.”

  He looked confused. “What?”

  A sigh escaped her lips. He wasn’t the one, and he had to go. She stood up and removed the empty cup he clutched in his hand. “You need to leave now, Fish. It’s been fun, but I have a lunch date.”

  “Oh, okay. Can you give me a lift to the club? My car is there.” His brow creased, as he looked confused again. “At least, I think it’s there. God, I hope we didn’t drive here.”

  “Me too. Don’t worry, I’m sure we took a cab or got a lift. We were obviously blotto.” She smiled at him and indicated he should return to the bedroom.

  His eyes lit up and she quickly shook her head. “No, Fish. You need to get dressed—you’re only wearing your undies.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry, give me a minute.” He rushed off to find his clothes and she sighed to herself. He was such a beautiful specimen of manhood, but there was zero chance of long-term potential. When he finally reappeared and his six-foot tall body filled the doorway, she was reminded of some hazy advice from the bartender: just because a man had everything on her list didn’t mean she’d want to be stuck with him forever.

  She locked her apartment door and turned to see him looking confused as he gazed down the stairs. “You live above a coffee shop?” She nodded and moved toward the stairs as he started to descend. “Why didn’t we go down and get good coffee, then?”

  She ground her teeth and showed him to her car, and they made awkward small talk as she drove to the club. With a wave of his hand, he slid off the seat and banged the door behind him. She then headed to the café where her friends were no doubt waiting for the post mortem. Too bad she could hardly remember a thing after they’d filled in her goal-setting app.

  ***

  “Give me the list we wrote last night,” Andrea held out her hand as Jordan looked around the restaurant.

  “I don’t have it.”

  “Bullshit. Give it to me. You’re not getting out of this resolution on the very first day.” She wiggled her fingers as she patiently waited. Jordan sighed and picked up her handbag. She dug around until she found the crumbled piece of paper, and she placed it in Andrea’s palm before she could change her mind. “Thanks. Now, what awesome things did we write down?”

  “You can’t remember what we did, either? You always seem to come up better than the rest of us the day after.”

  “I remember most of it… just not the finer details.” Andrea grinned at Emily, who sat with her dark glasses firmly covering her eyes. “At least I’m not as sick as Em.”

  “I’m never drinking cocktails again. Strictly wine for me from now on.” Emily groaned as giant plates of eggs and bacon were placed in front of Jordan and Andrea. “How can you possibly stomach that—and where the hell is Shelly?”

  “We’re starving, and Shelly is on her way.” Jordan chewed a small piece of bacon. “She promised not to ditch us today.”

  “Yeah, well, that was before she became the future Mrs Boyd Ramsay. I bet she stays in bed all day.”

  “Maybe she got an earlier night than us—they left well before midnight. Oh, see, here she is.” Andrea waved her hand in the direction of the door. “Nice of you to join us, slowpoke!”

  “Enough of that. I had to drop Boyd back to get his car. He wanted to come for breakfast, but I ditched him just for you girls.” She plonked down in the seat next to Jordan and gave her a quick hug. “You look interesting. Big night?”

  Before Jordan could answer, Andrea piped up. “I’d say so. Jordan, here, managed to bag the elusive DJ last night.”

  “Oh, don’t remind me. He was gorgeous, but not meant for me. Worse than that, I can’t even remember us actually doing it. It was a wasted effort!”

  “You don’t remember anything?”

  “Nope. The last thing I remember is putting the bit about looking great in jeans into the app. After that, it’s all a blur. I don’t even know how we got home.”

  “You got a taxi—I remember that part. He was all over you when the club closed at three.”

  “Really? That could explain why he wasn’t totally repulsed by me today.”

  “Yet you set him free.” Andrea rolled her eyes and twirled her finger around her ear. “You’re crazy, girl!”

  “What app are you talking about?” Shelly signalled the waitress to bring her a menu. “What did I miss about looking great in jeans?”

  “Oh, Jordan decided she’s going to get married this year, so we made a plan to find her perfect man.”

  Shelly laughed. “Really? That’s going to be fun. You should write about it on your blog.”

  “No, I shouldn’t. I don’t want men ap
pearing out of the woodwork that are interested in getting on my blog. That would add a whole extra layer of complicated to the process.” Jordan put her knife and fork down and turned to her friend. “Besides, this is your time to bask in the glow of being engaged. We shouldn’t be talking about my plans.” She grabbed Shelly’s hand where her engagement ring sparkled as brightly as it had the night before. “I didn’t get a chance to admire this gorgeous thing last night. Do you love it?”

  “I do. He chose so well. I’ve always imagined I wanted to choose my own ring, but this is so beautiful.” She held it up in front of her, and it was clear that she still couldn’t believe he’d asked her to marry him. She glanced around the table at her friends. “I meant what I said last night: I want you three to be my bridesmaids. I can’t do this without you all there.”

  The three of them all spoke at once.

  “Of course we’ll be there!”

  “We wouldn’t miss it!”

  “You’re going to be so beautiful!”

  She smiled at them as her meal was delivered: two eggs on one piece of toast.

  “So, have you set the date? Where is your bacon?” Jordan nudged her.

  She grinned as she cut into her egg. “I figured I should start with the diet straight away.”

  “What diet? Are you serious? Diets are for people who won’t fit into their dress. You’re a size ten!”

  “I know, I know. I’d like to stay that way, so I’m going to be good right up until the wedding. We haven’t chosen a date, yet, but we will tonight. It will probably be sometime in September or October. It’ll be getting warm by then, so there’s a better chance of good weather, since I want to get married outside.”

  They ate their breakfast in silence with occasional comments about the size of Shelly’s ring. Jordan successfully kept the conversation away from her New Year’s resolution until the dishes had been cleared and they were each enjoying a cup of coffee.

  “So, Jordan, back to you. Show Shelly the app.”