I shake the thought away. If I do anything stupid, I can always try again tomorrow. It’s not like I haven’t done that before. I take a breath and try not to think about it. Which means, it’s all I can think about.

A sliver of nausea slips in through the cracks of my uber-cool, I-told-Mark-to-fuck-off façade.

What if it’s awkward and strained the whole time? I didn’t make a list of things to talk about. What if we have nothing in common?

I take a slow breath, inhaling in through my nose and then out through my mouth.

It’s okay. Even if I totally screw this up, tomorrow I can try again. This is temporary.

My heart rate drops a notch.

That’s better.

“So what made you say yes this time?”

I glance up from the menu. Presley is watching me with no idea of the mental gymnastics being performed inside my brain.

When I don’t respond right away, she adds, “I mean, I’ve worked at Blue Wave for over a month and I’ve asked you to lunch or drinks or out to dinner with the rest of the team about every other day. Did I finally annoy you into agreeing?”

I smile. “I wasn’t annoyed, I came because—” Wait. Why did I agree to come out this time when I’ve been avoiding everyone at work for basically the entire span of my career? It’s a good question. I could tell her the truth, I’m stuck in a time loop in which I cannot change anything and now I’m throwing shit at the wall and hoping it sticks, but I decide to go for the simple and shocking. “I got fired.”

Her mouth pops open. “You did? Are you serious?”

“Yep.”

The waiter comes over and we order, deciding to share latkes and tabouleh with chicken kebabs and falafel.

“You sure we can eat this much?” I ask once the waiter disappears with our order.

“Absolutely. My stomach is an empty pit that needs to be filled with Mediterranean food, wine, and my parents’ approval.”

I laugh. “Now there’s a statement I can relate to.”

Presley grins. “But we need to talk about you. What happened at work?”

My hands clench together in my lap, staring down at a scuff on the table. “Today’s pitch didn’t go so great.” I mean, better than the last five million times, but not good enough.

“So they fired you?”

“Uh, well.” I blow out a breath. “That and also I suck at my job.”

She coughs, choking on her drink. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting, um—”

“Brutal honesty?”

She shrugs. “Self-awareness.”

Ouch. “Right.”