Page 3 of Error Handling

“Cassie’s convinced he’s perfect for me.”

“How so?”

“I guess we’re the same height or something.”

“That’s all you have in common? Your height?”

“She said he’s funny and impeccably groomed. Like bordering on OCD.”

“Oh no.” Luna flinches. “It sounds like he might have baggage.”

“Probably.”

“You sound super excited.”

I sigh.

“What time is your date?”

“We’re meeting up at Jumbo’s Seafood at six.”

Luna taps her smartwatch with her chin. “Were you planning on walking there? Because it’s five past five.”

I shoot to my feet. “How is it already five o’clock?” I almost drag my fingers through my hair but stop myself before coating every strand in paint. “I missed my bus!”

“You planned on going home first?”

I tear off my smock and gesture to my faded, fitted tank top that shows too much of my cleavage. “I can’t go like this. He’ll think I’m trying to bed him.”

“Do we say that in the 21stcentury?”

“He’ll think I’m trying to get some.”

“With that old tank?”

“No, with my boobs hanging out like this.”

“They’re not hanging. They look quite perky.”

“Exactly!” Again, I fight the urge to wrangle my messy hair with my fingers. “I need to get this paint off me!” I run to the bay of industrial sinks along the east wall and grab the nearest can of mineral spirits.

“Call me an Uber,” I yell over my shoulder as I pour the chemical on my hands. After I’ve removed most of the paint, I grab the dirty dishtowel that’s wadded against the backsplash and dry my hands.

“The Uber driver will be here in five minutes,” Luna calls across the room.

“Five?”

“Yep.”

I do the math in my head. A five-minute wait for the Uber driver plus a fifteen-minute drive home, plus fifteen more minutes to shower... It will be close, but I might make it.

“I’ll pay you back later,” I say as I run for my purse and backpack. “Can you put my stuff in my cubby?”

“Sure,” Luna says. “Hey, don’t forget to have fun,” she calls to my back as I duck out the door. “I hope he doesn’t gross you out.”

Luna’s last comment rings through my head as I bound down the flight of stairs to the first floor. The best I can hope for is a guy who doesn’t gross me out. How sad.

I bust through the front doors and plop down on a bench in the courtyard. Birds chirp away in the dwarf palms as I prepare to wait.