Like a zombie rising from a shallow grave on the morning of an impending apocalypse, Suzi Sparrow stumbled out of bed and headed for the kitchen.

But no zombie had ever screamed in the way that the shrill sound left Suzi's throat (and don't go on about how zombies aren't real--try telling that to poor Rick Grimes who lost everyone he ever loved while traipsing through the Georgia wastelands or that hot guy from 28 Days Later who was so traumatized by the undead roaming in London that he ended up moving up north to Birmingham and turning to a life of crime with his mobster brothers.)

"WHAT IN THE EVER-LOVING TATTOOINE YOU SCARED THE BEJESUS OUT OF ME!" Suzi yelled without taking a breath or emphasizing proper punctuation immediately following the scream because although startled, she still had a natural knack for fancy exclamations.

"Yo, girl. Relax. You know we gotchu," said Trystan, her best friend in the whole world, as he pulled her into a bear hug while smooshing her against his Jolly Green Giant body. With her nose pressed against his synthetic football jersey, Suzi couldn't breathe, much less object.

"This is exactly what I was talking about," said a voice Suzi quickly recognized as belonging to Amy--another friend, but lower on the bestest scale--before the telltale sound of the fridge door closing. "Poor thing is a mess. This intervention couldn't come fast enough."

Suzi wriggled out of Trystan's well-intentioned grip. "Intervention? I mean I know I may have downed a bottle and danced on top of the bar last night," she began to argue as the third uninvited guest Taren--who was more Trystan and Amy's friend but was always around so they were buddies by association--emphatically nodded. Avoiding his eyes, she added, "But I totally knew what I was doing."

"Literally none of that happened," Amy said with a laugh.

"It didn't?" Suzi was puzzled. "I swear I--"

"Nope. Quite the opposite, actually," Taren interrupted. "After two shots of tequila, you spent the next few hours crying to us about how Ashley was right and you should be more open-minded, blah blah blah."

"Ashley?" Suzi asked quietly, trying to recall last night's events through a decreasingly cloudy hangover fog.

"Yeah, Ashley. Your ex, remember?" Trystan said, grimacing as the words left his lips. He never had been a fan of her relationship with the architect.

"Yes, of course I remember who that is. But what does last night have to do with you three showing up in my kitchen uninvited on a Monday morning?" she asked.

"I told you she'd forget," Amy said.

Suzi spun around. The sudden movement made her queasy. "Forget what?" she asked, holding down the bubbling nausea. Upchucking on the kitchen floor was not her ideal start to the day.

"Our bet," Taren said.

"More like a dare," Amy corrected.

"Or just a challenge, really," Trystan also chimed in.

This did not sound good. "What challenge?"

"You, Suzi Sparrow, agreed to go on a month's worth of dates--" Amy began, but Taren cut her off.

"Blind dates," he said to which Amy nodded.

"Yes, blind dates, to prove to yourself that you are up for an adventure and to try new things," she finished with a smile.

Suzi's mouth hung agape. "A whole month? I really agreed to that?"

The trio nodded in unison. 

Suzi's heart sank. "So you mean I have to go on thirty dates?" she asked after she managed to return to reality.

"Well, ideally it would be a bit more since July has thirty one days, but it's give-or-take since someone is bound to bail. Statistically speaking and all," Trystan said, not letting his minor in quantitative analysis go to waste. He was probably the only pro football player in the league with one, and he liked to show off as often as he could. Unfortunately, that was less often than not in the locker room, so his friends bore the brunt of it.

But Suzi couldn't care less about the math behind the conversation (it was one of the reasons she ditched pre-med for an English degree--too many numbers made her head hurt). She was focused on the immediate issue. Literally, the most immediate one.

"July?" she asked with increasing bewilderment. "But that's soon."

"Not soon, babe," Taren said, tapping his watch. "Today's the first, so technically it's now."

Suzi laughed with real joy for the first time that morning because her friends' plan just fell apart. "How do you expect me to find a date on a few hours notice?" she asked, crossing her arms. "And then thirty more in direct succession?"

"Actually, that's easy," Amy said. "I have--had, I guess--a date already set for tonight, so you can just go in my place."

Suzi rolled her eyes. Drats. Thwarted. 

Apparently she was now romantic leftovers. No worries. She could do one date. She needed to get back in the game after the breakup with Ashley, anyway. Start having fun again. What was that saying? Enjoy the little things? Well, she was unemployed, broke, and desperately single, so the little things were all she had right now. And perhaps she'd get a few good meals and some free entertainment out of it.

"Fine," she relented. "That's one date. What about the other thirty?"

"We can split setting you up," Trystan said. "Between the three of us, I'm sure we can easily set up at least half the lot."

"And there are always the old stand-bys," Amy added. "Tinder, Bumble, Match, OkCupid, Craigslist--"

"Craigslist?" Suzi balked. "I'm not a freaking couch that won't fit into your new apartment!"

Trystan hugged her again. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. No one is calling you living room furniture," he said with a chuckle before planting a kiss on the top of her head. "It'll be cool. Promise."

His reassurance calmed her. And after a glass of orange juice and an Advil chaser, Suzi was finally able to focus. "So who's this date you're pawning off on me tonight?" she asked Amy, swirling the pulp in the bottom of her glass.

"Don't worry. We haven't met either so he won't know the difference," Amy answered, twirling her hair around her finger. Mimicry was a tell for her anxiety. Something was up.

"What's wrong with him?" Suzi asked with growing concern.

Amy's eyes widened. "Nothing! I swear, Suze. My mom wouldn't have set me up--"

"Your mom arranged this date?" Suzi asked in confirmation while glancing at Trystan in a silent what did I get myself into plea. The large guy just shrugged his shoulders.

* * *

Peter Porter. Suzi mentally repeated the name as she neared the cafe. The moniker had sounded familiar when Amy first mentioned her date's name, but it wasn't until now that it clicked.

The hottie from Model UN.

She's been a foreign policy nerd in high school--writing all those draft white papers was definitely a sign she was more meant for a future in communication rather than medicine--but getting the chance to occasionally see the cutie from a rival school at regional meets was an added bonus.

However, the guy from her teenage years definitely just went by Pete, which she clearly remembered because he would scratch out the 'R' on all of his pre-printed name tags. And if she wasn't mistaken, he was also going to attend the University of Washington to study international relations. The 'Peter' she was having a bite with apparently owned a chain of weed dispensaries across Los Angeles. It couldn't have been the same person in a million years.

Yet when Suzi stepped inside the over-air conditioned, faux French bistro and set eyes on the blonde hunk sitting at the corner table, her heart skipped a beat like she was a horny tenth grader again.

Well I'll be damned, she thought. It was Mr. Model UN himself.

"Pete?" Suzi addressed him as she reached the table. 

The guy looked up from his phone and quickly stood. "Peter, actually," he said with a smile, extending his hand. "And you must be Amy."

Suzi cringed. Her friend had sworn she'd explained the situation and her date would be expecting Suzi. "Well, actually," she began, making an exaggerated grimace. "Amy couldn't make it so you're going to have to settle for me. Suzi. That's my name. I'm Suzi. Hi." She rolled her eyes at the babbling, swiftly shook his hand, and took a seat.

Peter laughed. "Okay then. I feel like there's a story behind all that, but I'm afraid to ask. At any rate, it's nice to meet you, Suzi."

She let out a deep breath. "Thanks for that," she said, already feeling a little more ease at his good natured acceptance. "And you're not going to believe this, but I think we've already met."

He looked pleasantly surprised. "Really? I'm pretty sure I'd remember you."

"Oh, it's been years. High school, in fact," she said. "Did you do Model UN around here? Your face is familiar, but only if you went by Pete instead of Peter back then. "

The previously jovial expression turned harsh, almost angry. 

"I was bullied as a kid. You know what they'd call me in middle school?" he asked, widening his eyes and nodding. "Peter Porker, that's what. With the oink, oinks and everything."

Suzi flinched at how quickly the conversation deteriorated. "That's awful. I'm so--" she began, but Peter cut her off.

"No worries. I'm over it. Showed them right. I got into wrestling in eighth grade and shed the baby fat," he said with obvious bitterness, not sounding like he'd gotten over it at all. "Never spoke to those idiots again except in pig Latin."

Suzi raised her brows in escalating shock, which didn't escape Peter's attention.

"Ouyay peaksay igpay Atinlay, Uzisay?" he asked with a grin.

Although she understood the stupid babble, Suzi innocently shook her head. "I--uhm . . . sorry."

"That's okay," he said. "Let's talk about something else."

In all honestly, Suzi already wanted to bolt for the door and go home, but they hadn't even ordered drinks and she felt a compulsion to have at least one full date. "So, I hear you're a businessman now. How did that happen?" she asked, only slightly interested in the answer. 

"Sure, yeah," he said, leaning back in his chair. "So you know, once the laws were relaxed, medicinal marijuana seemed like a good way to go investment-wise."

"Is that what you studied in college?" she asked. "Business, I mean. Not weed."

He laughed. "Not at all. I was ready to go into foreign policy, but ouyay owknay owhay tiay siay."

Jesus, not again! she thought as he automatically switched back to the pig Latin. And while Suzi understood that he said "you know how it is," she once more pretended to be ignorant of the made-up language. Because what grown-ass adult still talked by putting the first letter of a word at the end and then adding 'ay' after it?

"Pardon. What was that?" she asked, instead.

Peter looked annoyed again. "Long story short, it turns out my parents had made some very early investments in both Facebook and Twitter when I was still little. They cashed out when I graduated college, so basically I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life without having to worry about money," he said.

Suzi tried to keep a poker face. New money. Insecure guy with a chip on his shoulder. That explains the attitude, she thought.

"Reaay ouyay kayoay?" Pete--Peter--whatever his damned name was--asked. (Maybe her poker face wasn't as good as she believed.)

Suzi drew in a sharp breath and thrust her hand into her purse. "Oh, I'm sorry. Do you hear that? That's my emergency ringtone. I really must get it. Excuse me," she blurted out, pulling an obviously not ringing cell phone out, standing so quickly her chair's legs squeaked on the tile floor, and making a beeline for the exit.

Author's Note: This one-shot is part of the 31 Blind Dates anthology from more than two dozen Wattpad writers including members of the Stars program, published authors, Ambassadors, Oxford comma supporters, and Wattys winners. This is the first story in the collection. You will find the next story in the intertwined series on the profile of Christine_Owen Just look for this sticker: