Her clicks come to an abrupt halt, and suddenly, I’m aware of how creepy I sounded.īecause…yeah, currently, I’m sitting on a toilet with my fancy little cocktail dress hiked up to my hips and the telltale prickles of a woman who has had no choice but to sit on a toilet seat for far too long shooting down my legs. She passed me, choosing the far end of the row like a normal person. I wait, measuring the seconds passing by, the click, click, click of a woman’s high heels drawing nearer. He will see all that he has missed out on and weep on the floor, clutching my legs, begging me to give him the kiss he left behind all those years ago.Īnd FINALLY, I hear the door squeak open. Because mark the words coming out of my red lips: Tonight, I will crush Ryan Henderson under my black stilettoed feet. In short, I’ve made sure that tonight-the night I come face to face again with my archnemesis-I look the best I’ve looked in my adult life. Best of all, I’ve perfected a killer winged eyeliner and paired it with a little black dress that has had men eyeballing me from across the bar all night long. Tons of friends-because family makes the best friends, am I right? And I’m at least four inches taller than I was in high school (read: two inches).
Point is, I’ve got a lot going for me now.
But it’s definitely somewhere around three times a week. Not only am I the Southern queen of the gourmet donut tycoon, but I’m turning down men calling me up nightly for a date. My best friend, Stacy, and I opened the bakery three years ago, and we have been enjoying a nice bit of success ever since. I’m now thirty years old and majority owner of Darlin’ Donuts-one of Charleston’s top hotspots. No longer am I that naïve little graduate, excited for a kiss from the enemy. But tonight…tonight, I resurrect the battle.
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