"Where the hell have you been?"

Val's voice greeted me the second I walked into our cramped studio apartment, and I groaned as I shut and locked the door behind me. She was sitting on the loveseat tucked under one of our lofted beds, and she paused Netflix to wait for my response. I was scared to look at the screen, afraid I'd see Andrew's face on it, but luckily she was watching reruns of Bob's Burgers.

"I told you I was going to be late, Val," I told her, dropping my keys on the counter in the kitchen and opening the refrigerator.

Fried pickles and half a hot dog does not a full meal make.

Snagging a piece of leftover pizza from last night, I took a bite as I opened a bottle of coconut water. I had to wake up early tomorrow, and I did not want to risk getting a hangover. Two beers doesn't usually do it, but - after the night I've had - I can already feel a headache pounding at my temples.

"Yeah, but you're never home this late," she argued. "Besides, you didn't tell me where you were."

I rolled my eyes, "I was at a bar."

"WHAT!?" Val sat up on the couch, dropping her favorite fuzzy green blanket on the floor in the process. "Why? Did you meet someone? Was he cute? Tell me!"

"I met a bartender named Matt," I told her snarkily, taking another bite of cold pizza. Pepperoni was my soulmate.

She groaned, "Aren't you funny."

"Matt the bartender thought so," I teased.

Val grabbed one of the throw pillows from behind her back and threw it at me, narrowly missing the open bottle of coconut water in my hand. I scowled, sticking the pizza in my mouth to hold it, and reached down with my now-empty hand to grab the pillow and throw it back at her.

Pulling the pizza out of my mouth, I chewed slowly before plopping down on the tiny loveseat next to her.

"I got stood up," I told her softly.

"You did meet someone!"

She slapped my upper arm lightly, and I frowned, "Someone who told me to meet him at 8:30 and didn't show until I was on the street leaving two hours later."

"Awww," her expression softened. "I'm sorry, babe. That's better than getting straight-up abandoned though. He showed eventually! Did he have a good excuse? Did you make a plan to see him again another night?"

I wrinkled my nose, stuffing another bite of pizza in my mouth so I didn't have to respond.

"No," I mumbled with my mouth full.

"Cait!" Val cried. "Why not? Was he a jerk about it? Was he ugly?"

I grimaced, taking a swig of coconut water before speaking, "No and no. I don't know...I panicked. You know I'm not looking for anything right now, I guess I took it as a sign." I sighed, "It's complicated."

"A sign?" She lifted an eyebrow. "Since when do you believe in 'signs'?"

I shrugged, eating the rest of the pizza before taking another drink of coconut water, "Since tonight?"

"Since you didn't want to get hurt," she said perceptively.

I sighed, "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, Cait, absolutely not," she told me. "I don't want you to get hurt by some jackass, but at the same time...I worry about you. I don't want you to hurt yourself by not putting yourself out there. You can't keep yourself closed off forever."

"I won't," I lied.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, studying me carefully, before adjusting so she could face me. Aware that the interrogation was about to begin, I jumped up and grabbed another piece of pizza from the fridge before she started grilling me for more information on the date.

"So he was cute?" Val asked, her ever-perceptive eyes tracking my every movement.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I could handle questions about my lack of a date. I couldn't handle another session in which Val quizzes me about why I don't want a relationship and I deftly avoid answering.

"Yeah," I admitted. "He was very cute."

She grinned, "Cute cute? Or hot cute?"

Ugh.

I stuffed another bite of pizza in my mouth, trying to decide the best way to answer without encouraging to talk about him more. I could always lie and tell her that he was ugly, an asshole, and completely unappealing, but Val was my best friend. I didn't want to do that to her. Still, I wanted to avoid telling her the truth.

That I'd turned down a date with a gorgeous international superstar.

"He was gorgeous," I told her reluctantly.

She clapped her hands together excitedly, pulling her laptop off the floor in front of her and opening it.

"What's his name?" She asked, fingers at the ready. "I want to Facebook stalk him."

"Umm...." I hesitated. "Andrew. I didn't catch his last name though, so I think it'll be impossible to find him."

Val groaned, "Nothing? No other details? Did he say where he works? Where he lives?"

I shook my head. A tiny white lie wasn't going to kill me. His name was Andrew, and he didn't say where he worked or lived. Granted, everyone knew who Lincoln Shepherd was, so it wasn't like she would even need to scour Facebook to find him. Just open up the latest issue of Us Weekly and he was bound to grace the pages somewhere.

"Can you tell me what he looked like at least?" Val asked. "If I can't Google him, I want to at least get a mental picture."

I rolled my eyes, "He, um...he kinda looked like that actor you like."

"Sebastian Stan?!" She squealed, eyes growing wide.

"No," I said with a laugh. "The other one. The one from that TV show you used to make me watch."

Recognition flitted across her features as it dawned on her, "Lincoln Shepherd?"

"Mhmmm," I replied, taking another bite of pizza in the hopes that it would prevent me from giving anything else away.

"Daaaaamn, Cait," Val shook her head. "Anyone who looks like that man is a winner in my book. Asshole or not."

I frowned, swallowing my bite of food, "He wasn't an asshole."

"Didn't he stand you up?" She asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yes, but..." I paused.

Why was I defending him? He did stand me up. Kind of. I mean, he showed up eventually, so I guess he didn't really stand me up, and he tried to apologize by taking me out again, but I made the right choice. I wasn't ready to be in a relationship with anyone, let alone one with a celebrity. I didn't need that kind of pressure in my life.

Then again, he wasn't asking me for a relationship, was he?

He was just asking me for a chance. And I turned him down.

Suddenly, my pizza tasted like dirt. I tossed the rest of it in the trash, finishing the rest of my coconut water, and flopped onto the loveseat next to Val.

"Damn," I muttered, running a hand across my forehead. "I was right, wasn't I? Turning him down?"

Val grimaced, "What do you think?"

"I don't do relationships, Val," I told her. "I can't. You know that I can't. I don't even know this guy, and he was late, and..."

"Then don't stress about it," she comforted me. "You did what you felt you had to do. Can't really take it back, can you?"

No. I couldn't. But did I want to?

I wasn't quite sure.