“Me too. Besides, I don’t think Darian would approve of me speed dating other guys. Even if it was just for moral support.” Liv smiled apologetically. With Hannah and Liv out of the running, there was only one option left. The three of us turned to Tania.

“I’m not going. No way.” Tania shook her head adamantly.

“Why not? You’re Muslim and you’re single!” I stated the obvious.

“But I’m not looking!”

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t!”

“Leila, we both know I’m not exactly an ideal candidate for this.”

“Why not? You’re Muslim. You’re professional. There’s going to be all kinds of people there. How do you know you won’t find a like-minded individual?” I said, pointing at the flyer.

Tania tugged at her hijab. All this dating talk seemed to make her uncomfortable, especially now that the focus had shifted to her.

“You were the one who suggested it,” I said, grabbing her by the arm. “Just come with me.”

“Leila—”

“Tania, please?” I pressed my palms together and pushed out my bottom lip. “I seriously can’t imagine doing this with anyone but you.”

“You should go, Tania,” Liv encouraged her.

“You might even meet some hot guys there!” Hannah concurred.

Tania looked over at me.

“Hot Muslim guys—they could exist.” I wiggled my brows playfully.

“Fine, I’ll go,” she relented as I jumped up and wrapped my arms around her neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I cried out in excitement. I still wasn’t too keen on the idea of speed dating, but maybe it would be fun. With Tania as my wingwoman, that was certainly looking to be more of a possibility.

* * *

“Are you sure this is it?” I asked as we stood outside the windowless exterior of an old warehouse in downtown L.A. The words THE LOT were spray-painted in graffiti across the side of the building.

“Yeah,” Tania replied hesitantly. “I mean, this was the address listed on the flyer.” Tania was wearing a pale pink hijab, a matching skirt paired with a sleek black blouse, and leather ankle boots. It was slightly more formal than my black fitted jumpsuit and short, suede, cropped jacket, but even I couldn’t deny that Tania looked phenomenal. I suddenly felt slightly apprehensive as we walked through the roped entrance into the building. Am I underdressed? Should I have worn something more traditional? What kind of men come to these events, and will any of them be husband material?

The inside hallway was dimly lit with red lights casting shadows along the walls. We followed the sounds of clinking glasses into a large room with tall leather stools and tables lined along the exposed brick walls. There was an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner, and rows of bottles—of every shape and size—decorating the shelves behind a smooth dark countertop. We were in a bar.

“Why would they hold a Muslim speed dating event in a bar?” Tania yelled over the loud music, just as a tall blond man greeted us with a smile.