I received messages instantly. My phone buzzed unceasingly, as dozens of eager messages rang through the group chat. It seemed like most of my friends already had someone in mind. They had wasted no time in embarking in the competition.

      As I agreed to no more than one date per day, the girls had to fight for tomorrow's time slot. To no surprise, Lada came out victorious. She had called a distant cousin who she thought was my perfect match and made reservations for an outing that she refused to reveal until she came over the next day.

      Sprawled on my bed as she rummaged through my closet, I cocked a brow.

      "A petting zoo?" I confirmed that I had heard her correctly.

      "It has a hayride too. There's this tractor with this big waggon and they just drive around the forest. The animals come right up to you. They have deer and shit."

      I'm sure there was a lot of shit. "Sounds fun."

      Two different shoes in hand, she whipped her head around. "What's with the uncertainty in your tone?"

       I threw my hands up defensively. "You know I'm down for anything. It genuinely sounds like a good time... Just doesn't seem like your type of thing. I was thinking something like a sketchy bar, river rafting or a Metallica concert."

       "That would have been ideal." She hummed. "But this is more Émile's thing. And you love animals."

      So, his name was Émile. "I do love animals."

     "Exactly! I've created the perfect date. I can be romantic you know."

     "Oh, I know," I chuckled. "Remember when you brought Mark to a strip club for your anniversary?"

      "Why is there sarcasm in your tone?" Lada turned abruptly. Sun hat atop her head, she placed her material filled hands on her hips. "That was super romantic. Best sex of my life."

      "No need to recount the story of your threesome." I sat up in bed. "I've heard it many times before. In great detail."

     Lada grinned. "I look forward to the day you get to tell the story of your own experience."

      "Never going to happen."

     "Never say never," she sang, standing with her chosen outfit.

      "I can't even handle one person yet."

      "Fair point," she laughed.

      "And we concluded that the sex approach wasn't the way to go. So, no need to worry about that any time soon."

      "Yeah, yeah." She pulled me to my feet and shoved the clothes in my arms. "It's what I had in mind when I chose Émile."

      I studied her curiously.

      "Émile is the definition of gentleman," she explained. "He probably won't kiss you until the fourth date."

      "Who says there's going to be a fourth date?" I said, slightly alarmed.

      "I've got a good feeling about this."

      "Well Quinn also had a good feeling about Glenn."

      "Don't compare my instincts to hers," she complained. "Quinn also believed it was a good idea to down four mimosas before our graduation."

      I snorted at the memory. Lada, Quinn, and I barely managing to hobble up the podium stairs. My slurred valedictorian speech was memorable for all the wrong reasons. My mother hadn't been proud.

     "Enough talking," Lada urged. "Put this on."

     She nodded at the clothes in my arms. Finally unfolding the material, I frowned.

     "Overalls?" I loved my overalls, but compared to her outfit, I frowned. She was wearing a pair of skin-tight black jeans and a hot pink crop top. When I first got a look at her clothes, I was convinced she was bringing me clubbing.

      "They're very you," she reasoned, heading back towards my closet. "And they're perfect for the venue."

     Finding my yellow rubber boots, she threw them my way. I caught them with perked brows. She had chosen the longs ones. She was expecting mud.

      "Aren't you wearing your hootchie-mama heels?"

      "I am." Her grin didn't falter. "But I'm due for an Instagram update."

      "Fair enough." She was known for her stunning Instagram profile. At first glance no one would know she was the type to go clubbing in crocs or fuzzy slippers.

      Sat in the back of Mark's rusty Chevrolet, I fidgeted nervously in my seat, anxiously counting the house numbers. We were picking Émile up and number 179 was rapidly approaching. Catching my eye in the rear-view mirror, Mark briefly released the steering wheel to hold his hands against his throat in a choking position.

      "Help!" He croaked dramatically. "I'm choking. The uneasiness is suffocating."

      Beside him, Lada chuckled, and I narrowed my eyes. Always so supportive.

      "Choking and suffocating are two very different things." I turned back towards the window. 133.

      "This is so unlike you," he marvelled with a grin. No chance they'd give me a break. Of course, they'd think my misery amusing. "It's almost nice to see that you're capable of being nervous."

      I stuck my tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry.

      "He's right though," Lada had to add. "It's unlike you to get nervous around boys."

      I cocked a freshly tweezed brow (Lada was a menace with tweezers) at the two.

      "You're usually great at meeting new people," Mark said. "If you hadn't drunkenly bet me five shots that you could beat me in a dance battle, my group never would have met yours, and I wouldn't have met Lada."

      "What's your point?"

      "You weren't nervous then," Mark explained. "You approached five random guys at the club with a cocky grin."

      I bit a smile as I recalled the memory. It had been a great night. The moment I saw his group's careless dancing, I knew I had to join.

      "Yes, well the male species doesn't make me nervous," I said. "The date species does."

      Lada turned in her seat, body contorted awkwardly against the seat belt as she faced me. "Pretend this is like that night," she said.

      "But I was just looking to make friends that night."

      "Pretend you're doing that tonight too. Most relationships start off as friendships anyways. Get to know him in a friendly way and see where it goes."

      I chewed my lip. "I think I can do that."

     "You better decide soon," Mark cautioned. "We're here.

      Clutching my purse, I forced a confident smile. I could do this.

     The quaint home was bright yellow with blue framed windows and decorative silver stars. The front lawn was sprinkled with a variety of colorful plants and a family of gnomes. My mother wouldn't approve, but I certainly did. I especially approved of the two dogs barking and attempting an escape as who I assumed to be Émile walked out of the front door.

      Émile was tall and clambered down the porch steps with a wide greeting smile. A friendly giant, I immediately concluded. With a well-kept red beard and round belly and hips, he wore a plain blue and white plaid shirt with light jeans. The attire suited him well and soft eyes were reassuring. At first glance, this was definitely a man that I could befriend. Unfortunately, with Lada's friend pep talk engrained, I embarrassed myself the moment he took the seat across from mine.

     "Hello, friend," I greeted.

      Mark coughed to cover a laugh, but Lada wasn't so subtle. She smacked her head against the dashboard in exasperation.

      This was sure to be an interesting evening...