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2. My Best Friend Makes Hot Chocolate and is Insufferable

I couldn't resist texting my best friend the minute Sergio disappeared.

Me: Met a cute guy at the bookstore. We're going on a date Tues.

I was on the Tube heading home when I heard the sharp ping alerting me to a new message. Then another.

Katie: OMGoodness

Katie: Tell me everything!!

I typed a reply with one thumb; my other hand gripped a handle to keep me steady as the train swayed and accelerated.

Me: On my way home. Will then

Katie: You'd better

Katie was waiting for me at our apartment, opening the door before I could even reach for the handle. "Welcome home. Now spill," she demanded in her thick British accent. She let me pass and closed the door behind me.

"Were you standing by the door this whole time just for dramatic effect," I asked, setting my purse on the kitchen counter, "or did you hear me coming up the stairs?"

"We've been roommates since Uni. I know the sound of your footsteps." She took a seat at the table and propped her chin on her hands expectantly. "Don't avoid the question."

Katie and I had been best friends since our sophomore year of college. The administration had paired us together after we both requested new roommates. Best decision of my life.

Katie had thick, blonde hair cut above her shoulders and a round, pixie-ish face that typically held one of two expressions: stubbornness and sarcasm. Her body was pear-shaped—pleasantly thicc. She was creative and compassionate, but her years of martial arts training gave her confidence I rarely saw in anyone else. She was an enigma, and she liked it that way.

"Ok," I relented, pulling out the chair opposite her. The table was so small that when we leaned forward conspiratorially, our noses nearly touched. "I was sitting in the back corner of the bookshop, and this guy came in. Had to be six foot two, six foot three maybe."

"What did he look like?"

"He was wearing these incredibly hot, black Oxfords, black slacks, and a dark gray button-down..."

She slapped the side of my head affectionately. "Enough of your obsession with men in nice clothes! I meant his face."

I felt a smile creep across my features and leaned back in my chair. "He was really pretty. You know how some guys are ruggedly handsome while others are pretty? This guy was beautiful. No other word for it."

"Did he try to hit on you?" she asked. "Do I need to beat him up?"

"No," I reassured her. "If anything, I was hitting on him. He just walked into my corner and started looking at books. He was hot—and he was looking at books, which is double hot—so I struck up a conversation."

"I'm impressed. What did you guys talk about?"

"Books," I said sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes and left the table to make some hot chocolate. "Want any?" she asked, holding up the box of cocoa powder.

"Yes, please. So we talked about books. He said he was buying interesting ones to put in his gothic mansion, but I think that might have been a joke."

"You couldn't tell if 'gothic mansion' was a joke?" She stirred the mugs of chocolate one at a time and put them in the microwave.

I put my head in my hands. "No! I mean, it's possible he could afford a mansion. He was wearing really nice clothes." At her intake of breath, I held up one index finger in a shushing motion. "Not a word. And he bought every book I recommended." I looked up from my hands.

Katie wore a bemused expression as she took the mugs out of the microwave, stirred them once more, and handed me mine. "Here you go. Come sit on the couch."

Our apartment may have been tiny, but our couch, at least, was glorious. It was broad and soft, and the cushions cradled you like clouds when you sank into them. Piled with extra blankets and pillows, it made the perfect place to spend a lazy evening reading or watching TV.

"So when are you meeting him again?" Katie asked once we were settled, excitement returning to her voice.

I took a sip of hot chocolate. It was perfect. "Tuesday at 8:00. We're going out for dinner."

The storm of relentless questions continued. "Is he picking you up here? Where is he taking you?"

"No, at the bookstore. And I don't actually know." I rested my drink in my lap. "It happened rather fast, and I forgot to ask. How will I know what to wear?"

Hearing the anxiety in my voice, Katie rubbed my back. "Don't worry. You can just text him."

I took another drink.

She cringed. "You don't have his number, do you? Do you even know his name?"

"His first name; it's Sergio."

She fixed me with a hard stare that would have made anyone else squirm in their skin. Most people underestimated Katie for the first few minutes of knowing her because of how darn cute she was, but they quickly realized their mistake; beneath her soft curves was a layer of firm muscle, and behind her blue eyes was a fierce brain. However, I knew her well enough to differentiate her "I'm going to destroy you and bury your body in the woods" look and her "I'm concerned for you" look. This was the latter.

"Now before you start criticizing me," I said, "I'd like to state that in my defense, he was quite attractive."

"Just be careful, love. In my experience, men are mistakes more often than not."

"You have dated a sum total of two men, Katie," I said. "Yet you talk like you've lived a full romantic life."

She stood and carried her empty cup to the kitchen. "You date two, you've dated 'em all. That's why I prefer girls."

"And you've dated a sum total of zero girls," I called, unable to resist giving her a hard time. "When are you finally going to get up the guts to ask a girl out?"

"When I fucking feel like it, that's when."

I grinned, then yawned. "I'm going to finish this then go to bed. It's been a long day."

"I think I'll join you."

"In my bed?" I teased.

She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows. "Possibly."

I snorted and left the warm embrace of the couch, setting my mug in the sink before heading in the direction of my room. "Goodnight, Katie," I said. But before reaching the doorway, I spun around and gave her my best mournful look. "The days we spent together were the best of my life, but alas, someone new has claimed my affections."

She heaved a heavy sigh, mirroring my dramatics. "I knew this day was coming—the day you'd be stolen from me. My heart just might break in two." She accentuated this statement by furiously clasping her chest and tossing back her head.

I was the first to break into laughter, but she didn't hold out for long.

"Night," I said, for real this time.

"Goodnight, you goof," she laughed. The pillow she threw hit my door with a dull thunk as I closed it behind me.