HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!! I meant to type a whole inspiring message but finishing this part took longer than expected and I need to get to bed, soooo, let me just say you're all valid, labeled or unlabeled or questioning, out or not out, no matter your age or country or relationship status. Let's celebrate ourselves this month, and stand up for the community all around the world.

*whee whee whee* gay panic alert! This chapter is not as edited as I'd like, but I promised, so, hope it's still good!

"Do you have to go?"

It was common knowledge having kids stalled your romantic life. What nobody had ever told me, though, was that they didn't even have to be yours to have that effect.

Ari was sitting on top of my dresser, swinging their legs back and forth, asking the same question for the millionth time. Their older sister was rifling through my closet, her brows furrowed in concentration. Next time I was going to go out, I'd make sure they had no idea and were in bed by the time I'd have to start preparing. Both of them were exhausting: Ari because of their attempts to make me cancel, and Manon because of her insistence on giving me relationship advice. Who knew a nine-year-old had so much to say about what not to do on a first date.

"Jessie, there's a hole in that shirt," Manon commented, poking at the seam of the tight black top I was wearing. "You can't wear that."

I rubbed my face. This night was going to be a disaster. Why the hell did I think it'd be a good idea to listen to the fashion opinions of a couple of elementary schoolers? They'd already made me change twice!

This was a pretty big hole, though. I turned my back to the mirror, checking it out over my shoulder. The size of an olive, to be exact. "You're right." I sighed. Part of me wanted to plummet into bed and just wait till the evening was over, but I couldn't. I had to do this. This was good for me.

"Why don't you pick one of your flannel shirts?" Manon offered. "Mom likes those."

I laughed. Maybe Elizabeth did like them — she certainly always noticed when I wore one, especially in combination with my boots and my beanie — but most of the time, she'd roll her eyes and mutter something about me perpetuating harmful stereotypes. I didn't exactly have a better idea, though. "Fine. You decide."

Manon stuck her nose in the air, inspecting the flannel I owned like she was getting paid for it, and I began hauling the shirt back over my head. Again.

Ari, apparently, thought that was a perfect moment to resume their whining: "Why didn't you just ask mom?"

I lost my balance, shirt stuck halfway up my arms, and crashed headlong into my mattress, Ari snickering at me. "Ouch," I mumbled. To my right, Manon let out a long breath, and small hands started to yank at the fabric, helping to free me.

From downstairs, a faint ring traveled through the hallway. I snuck a glance at my alarm clock—shit, shit, double shit. Of course. Could I for once get myself ready in time for a date? "Manon, would you maybe—"

"I'll go!" Ari interrupted, and before I had a chance to protest, they'd jumped to the floor and raced out of my room.

"Ari!" But they'd already gone. Oh no. Ever since the incident in the tent, Ari had teased me about being in love with their mom non-stop, something that was worsened by the fact Elizabeth was... well... kind of an intense best friend. She'd left me a blubbering mess on more than one occasion now, and she seemed to enjoy it too. In fact, she did it so well my brain tried to convince me she was flirting half of the time, with the way she'd initiated a freaking whipped cream fight on National Brownie Day and with all those seemingly casual shoulder and elbow touches that lingered just long enough to make me highly aware of them. Or yesterday, when she'd been immersed in a novel featuring two beautiful half-naked women in a passionate embrace on the cover, right in front of me, her eyebrows too expressive to be healthy for any onlookers. She'd detected me gaping at her, and instead of blushing, she'd suggested reading it out loud to me, if I was so interested in the story. Considering she was in one of her satin robes, her smooth legs entangled on the couch, I'd run out of there before I could blurt out any of the thoughts that were plaguing me.

Some days went by without anything like this happening, usually when Elizabeth was grumpy and would hiss about the proper place to leave my keys, and I'd be lulled into a false sense of security. Until she'd catch me staring at her licking the coffee cream off her spoon and she'd dip it right back in to start all over. I'd never been so confused in my life— or so turned on, probably. To be honest, I'd been more confused and turned on lately than ever before, and I figured I really needed to put a stop to this before it went too far. This was my place of work, for god's sake.

To make matters worse, I'd received an invitation to the annual Pandora's Box party at the Rainbow Cactus, taking place tomorrow, and for the first time since our break-up, Lennox was going to attend. That meant I had to go, but I couldn't show up alone and brave Lennox by myself, and Ari had been hinting at me taking Elizabeth. The more I pressed that their mom and I were friends, the smugger their smirk, so to let them know it wasn't going to happen, I'd asked the mailwoman out on a date in the hopes she'd accompany me to the party tomorrow if all went well.

"Just give me the green one," I said to Manon, sudden nerves swimming about my stomach. I didn't trust Ari with this, not for one bit, so I shrugged the flannel on as fast as possible — only, they already swaggered right back in, hands on their hips and a spring in their step. Oh no. "Ari, I thought you were going to open the door!"

Ari bared their teeth, grinning. "Don't worry. Mom's doing it."

For some reason, that made the nerves drop down to my boots. Snatching my bag and my phone from the bed, I kissed them both goodnight and hurried into the hallway, where, of course, my feet caught on something and I crashed forwards, just in time finding some much-needed support from the wall. Crap. Forgot to tie my laces.

Crouching down, I inched towards the railing, peering through the bars to see if my date was at least still alive. Elizabeth had been in a foul mood today, annoyed by anything anyone did or said, and I didn't wish her glares upon any stranger, much less a prospective girlfriend.

I couldn't see Chelsea from up here. It seemed she hadn't been invited in: Elizabeth had one hand on the opened door, only the back of her head visible, long hair loose and messy, the state it'd be in after a bad day at work.

"So, you and Jessie live together?" Chelsea's voice wasn't nearly as cheerful as it'd been yesterday morning when I'd spotted her eyebrow slit and her many rings and somehow chatted my way into a date.

"Yes."

Oh, boy. I froze, dropping my laces. Elizabeth had to realize what she was actually asking. On any other day, I would've expected her to produce her practiced charming laugh and smooth everything over. Any day but this one, when she'd returned home fuming because Mr. Richards, a married colleague from another department, had yet again been making inappropriate comments about her coffee-making skills and cracking offensive jokes about what creepy men and spiders have in common.

"Right. She didn't tell me that."

This wasn't going well. Hastily, I focused on my boots again — surely, she'd fix it, but still, I had to interrupt as fast as possible, or I might be in for a very unpleasant night.

"I see," I heard her say, and I just had to look up to see her flip her hair over her shoulder. "You must not have talked much yet." An awkward silence followed, and I decided I'd been wrong: even Ari getting the door would've been better than this. "I'll go get her for you."

Finally. I came up, checking my shoes once more to prevent any accidents involving me hurtling down the stairs.

"Nah, don't bother. I ain't doing this."

Crap! I clutched the banister, nearly flying down into the hall, the contents of my bag spilling all over the floor as I hurried towards the front door, pushing past Elizabeth. Too late. The driveway showed no signs of life, the only movement caused by the wind roughly swaying the row of cypresses lining the yard and the prickles of rain splattering on the roof of the BMW. Chelsea, my one and only option of avoiding embarrassment at the Pandora's Box party and possibly a way to get over my so-called best friend, was gone.

I groaned, closing the door with my back, the bang a little louder than expected. "What did you do that for?"

"Do what?"

As if she had any right to sound this indignant when she had chased away my date in under five minutes and didn't even try to fix it! She was just standing there, full face of make-up, eyes sparking with daring. "Oh, come on! You couldn't just tell her you're my boss, or, here's an idea, put on a robe before answering the door? You never walk around in your..." Only then did I realize what she was wearing, and I sputtered. A silk burgundy chemise, not even nearly long enough to cover up the stretch marks on her inner thighs, hugging her hips in a scandalously enticing way, the lacy V-neck dipping dangerously low. My gaze shot back up, heat creeping to my face and other parts of my body I couldn't think about in front of her. "Your way too sexy nightdress!"

I didn't mean to shout, nor did I mean to word it like that; only my brain was overheating, and oh well, it could've been much, much worse.

She crossed her arms, which did nothing but draw more attention to her boobs. She was cold: her pale skin was covered in goosebumps, and oh, it wasn't fair — I was supposed to be mad, not turned on. "I was changing, and Ari came in begging me to answer the door. It's not my fault you have poor time management."

"It's eight pm. What are you changing for this early?"

"My bra was uncomfortable." She brought one of her hands to her chest, fingers grazing the side of her boob absentmindedly, and it took everything in me to keep breathing.

See? This here was exactly why I needed a date. Whether she was aware or not, just being near her was enough to get me gaping at her like a fool, and damn, I was supposed to be her friend. I took care of her kids! I didn't want to be like Mr. Richard, imagining pinning her right against this door and hiking up that flimsy chemise, just to check what she was wearing underneath.

I shook my head, pressing my palms to my eyes. "You just cost me my date, Elizabeth."

She huffed. "I opened the door, Jessie. Not my fault you didn't tell that woman about me."

Sometimes, I could not with her. Just not. "You look like a Victoria's Secret model! What did you think she was going to think? 'And they were roommates'?"

If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was relishing in this, quickly hiding the sudden smile threatening to break through and replacing it with a mock frown. "Excuse me for wanting to be comfortable in my own house," she said, like it was normal for her to strut around half-naked. "Have you considered it's your own fault for one," she ticked off a finger, "being late; and two," another finger, "inviting a stranger to come pick you up from our house? Really, has no one ever taught you about dating safety?"

Fists clenched, I forced myself to stare at her face. She was too close, once again, all spicy shampoo and freshly-laundered clothes, and how the holy cow was I supposed to get over her if she was like this? "She was the mailman, like you already freaking knew," I managed to say. "I can't really ungive her my address."

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe don't date the mailman then, if they already know where you live." With that, she pushed past me, bumping my shoulder in the process, hair flowing behind her as she ascended the stairs, hips swaying from side to side, once again leaving me so confused and infuriatingly turned on.

Apparently, they went together well.

Why was she so against me dating the mailman? It wasn't like anything in my contract forbade me to mess with the mail delivery network! I stomped towards the railing, careful not to trip over all of my possessions spread out around me. "Why are you being like this? You're not making any sense! Who am I going to take to the party now?"

She paused at the top, looking over her shoulder, honey-brown hair shining in the light of the chandelier. "I'm sure you can find someone else." And she was gone, leaving only a faint trace of her spicy scent.

No way I'd find another woman who liked women in less than twenty-four hours and manage to ask her out. I squirmed in place, only now becoming aware of the state of my panties.

Well. Might as well take another shower and seize the evening. Tomorrow was going to be a full-on catastrophe anyway.