I don’t touch mine, but they don’t seem to notice or care. They were so excited for my deal with John Monroe Press—a local publisher, no less—that they insisted we go out to celebrate. They did this when I landed my agent, too, who is also with a local agency. It’s weird how everything fell into place for me, and they’re so happy. Even though Mandy graduated from the same program I did and is currently querying agents for her first romance novel, none of them seem jealous. We’re all filled with a youthful exuberance that even I—a youthful exuberant myself—can see. So, I didn’t have the heart to tell them no either time, though this is so not my scene. I love them, and they’re proud of me. I’m happy to be out with them, even if the music is loud and I have to get some coherent words on the page tomorrow if I’m going to make my deadline.

“Oh, I love this song.” Katherine closes her eyes and sways to the beat of the music. “Let’s dance, bitches!”

Mandy and Ava whoop loudly, drawing the attention of a few other people sitting at the bar. They head out to the dance floor while Katherine tugs at my arms to get me to follow.

“I’m going to get a beer,” I tell her. “Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay!” she shouts over the music.

Once she’s out of sight, I lean my forearms against the bar with no intention of leaving this spot. Bars are not my favorite places, but I will tolerate them on occasion. I absolutely will not dance.

This bar isn’t particularly busy for a Friday night, at least not yet. There’s some kind of sports game happening on all three of the flat-screen televisions hanging around the place. By the way some of the people sitting here are cheering and groaning at regular intervals, it seems important.

The DJ is stationed around the corner from the bar and out of my line of sight, giving some separation from the sports while still being heard over the noises of the crowd. He plays another song that makes the crowd gathered in front of him squeal. If I had to guess, I won’t see my friends again for a while. I groan internally. Leaving would mean going into the crowd of dancing twentysomethings to find them, which would lead to them dragging me onto the dance floor. Better to stay here and wait it out, I suppose.