I stared at the sparkly letters that adorned the wall next to me, that had adorned this wall for all of eternity: HAPPY BIRTH AY, they shouted, seemingly at anyone, the D long missing. At Moonie’s, every day was someone’s birth ay. It had become a phrase of affection amongst my friends and me, particularly at the drunken end of a karaoke night, shouting it at each other nonsensically: HAAAPPY BIRTH-AYYYY!

But clearly, the likelihood of birth ay proclamations tonight appeared dim. With everyone else out, the only friends who remained were Steve, whom I loved but who refused to sing at karaoke, which lessened the fun a bit, and Kelsey. And you truly never knew if Kelsey was going to ever actually show to an event or not. Which would be annoying with anyone else, but Kelsey was so fucking hysterical whenever she did decide to show that her flakiness was instantly forgiven every time.

Even if she did show tonight, me, Kelsey, and Steve would be...kind of an odd group. Missing too much of the glue of everyone else. Best to bail now for the good of the order.

I stood, moving toward the bar. Man, Butch Bartender was gonna be pissed when I closed out on a $4 tab.

But then the door opened.

I was already at the bar when she walked in. I sucked in a breath.

Lemon yellow dress tonight, splashed all over with large, blood-red poppies. Her shoulders were draped in a velvet jacket the same shade of red as the flowers on her dress. Although the jacket didn’t hide the neckline of said dress, which dipped low in a glorious V, framing her breasts perfectly. She laughed as her group walked to their table, and I caught a bright, brief glimpse of it—straight white teeth framed by cherry red lipstick, curving around an exhalation of mirth—before she turned away. She was wearing thick hoop earrings, sea green, just enough of a color contrast to the rest of her outfit to look clever. When she turned, I could see glitter on her cheeks, sparkling gold even under the dim lights.

She always looked good.

But fuck, she looked good tonight.

“Another?”

Butch Bartender had caught me unawares again. And when she held up another sweating can of Rainier, I nodded. Like the miserable human being I was.

I scooted back to my table, telling myself it was not super creepy to nurse another beer for the sole purpose of getting to hear my karaoke crush sing her signature opening song. I mean, I did put on pants and everything for this outing. It would be sad if I left before I even heard one song. Especially if it was hers.