I smiled brightly up at Sam, who was standing uncertainly at the end of the table. I patted the empty chair to my right. Friendly. Bold. Moonie’s normal. “Sam, meet everyone. Everyone, meet Sam.”

Oh god. I had been mildly okay with Lily coming over to talk to me—HAHA JOKES, it had been fucking wild, but once the actual talking started it had also been kind of fun. I think.

But being thrown straight into meeting a whole new group of people—even if, sure, they were all people I’d seen do karaoke a bunch of times before, which was such a ridiculous, vulnerable act that we probably rated as acquaintances, at least, maybe—was upping the ante. It was hard not to feel pathetic for real, like the only reason they were inviting me into their club was because my friends had abandoned me. Because...that was the only reason they were inviting me into their club.

I sat down and slid Lily her gin and tonic. I hoped she didn’t like fancy gin. Butch Bartender had raised her eyebrows at me, being that I’d never ordered a gin and tonic before, and asked “Well liquor okay?” And I had no idea what even constituted good gin so I’d just nodded. Although, wait, the pretty blue bottle I often stared at while waiting for Butch Bartender to take pity on me was gin, I was pretty sure. Dammit. I should have gotten Lily the pretty blue gin.

“Happy to have you, Sam! I’m Bri.” A Black woman with a wide smile reached her hand out to me across the table. “Sorry to hear about your friends. I always love watching that short one do Bel Biv Devoe.”

“Nate,” I smiled. “That’s his sole go-to, yeah. He’s out of town. My friend Steve might show up later,” I checked my phone in my pocket, to make sure I hadn’t missed any more texts. “...but probably not.”

“What do you do, Sam?” A guy on Lily’s other side leaned forward. “Jonny, by the way.”

“Hey, Jonny.” I gave a dorky little wave across the table, until I realized the extent of its dorkiness and quickly aborted it. “I teach at the university downtown.”

Lily turned to me, eyes bright. How did sitting next to someone seem so much more intimate than sitting across from them? It should have been the opposite. But our shoulders were almost brushing now. I could smell her here, some kind of citrusy perfume, and I wanted to bathe in it. So much potential for knees knocking into each other. Thighs pressing together, possibly, if I played my cards right.

Which I definitely wouldn’t, because my romantic prowess was level negative three.

“You’re a professor?”

I took a sip of the G&T, which was not half bad.