"Let's do something about that," Kat says.

  I shake my head. "Don't wanna."

  "Tomorrow. The first five guys."

  "The first five guys what?" I ask, trying to claw my way from drunkenness and talk her out of whatever plan she's concocted like so many of her strange drinks.

  "The first five guys you see. I dare you to date them. You have to give them each a week, at least."

  "I double dare you," Tori says.

  Triple and quadruple dares echo from around the room.

  "Date five guys?" Marc asks. "I can handle two at most."

  Kat corrects, "Not all at once, but we need to get her out there. She needs to make it real."

  "How is that making it real?" I ask even though I want distance from the conversation.

  "You spend so much time fantasizing about your love life," Kat says.

  "I do not," I argue. "I want nothing to do with my nonexistent love life."

  "Your choice of reading material would beg to differ," Tori says.

  "She has a point," Marc adds, glancing toward my room. "I vote for the rainbow arrangement, by the way."

  "Yeah, and dating can be fun," Lydia adds.

  "No risks," Leo says.

  "No strings," Ina states.

  "No broken hearts." Kat shakes the ice in her glass and takes the last sip.

  "Just. NO," I say.

  Chapter 6

  Research and Development

  I'm usually sensible. Like, always. I should have washed off my makeup and got into bed hours ago. I should be dreaming of my one true love and wake up, bright eyed tomorrow morning with him snoozing by my side.

  I shouldn't be drunk off my face with my roommate tonight of all nights. I shouldn't be listening to her thoughts on how I can improve my love life. I should be sleeping.

  But I lost my job a couple of months ago and the month before that my turtle died. But Mew probably would have killed it when Katya and I moved in together anyway. The tank stank, but in the end, he had a good life as far as turtles go—one of the tenants in the building moved out and left him in the hall. I couldn't just leave him there. Or her. I never did find out the gender. He was just Turtle and he liked to bite. It wasn't even close to being a love hate relationship. Just the latter. So, I guess I did need friends tonight. Maybe more nights than I allow.

  Everyone filtered home, leaving Kat and me in the living room with a Billy Holiday record playing. A strand of twinkle lights glow along the windowsill. We're lying on opposite ends of the couch, nursing the last of the batch of rosemary and gin sparkling lemonade she made.

  There were multiple trips to the market over the course of the night.

  "I should go to sleep," I say for the fifth time even though I make no motion to do so. I don't object when she pours the last inch of sparkling lemonade in my glass.

  "You never told me who you'd ship."

  "You first," I say.

  Katya's uncharacteristically quiet and then she says, "I've never been in love."

  I file through all of the guys she's been with, searching my memory for that glimmer, that knowing, the glowing… Nothing. "But you've had crushes," I say.

  I feel her shrug from the other end of the couch. "Not really. I don't let myself go there."

  "Why?" I ask in a small voice, afraid her answer is like mine.

  "I've never told anyone this." Her voice is sleepy, but she continues anyway. "When I was little I caught my father cheating on my mom."

  My stomach twists, and I rush to the bathroom. After I heave into the toilet, I vow never to eat crazy-roni again. I splash water on my face and return to the living room, feeling surprisingly fresh and lucid, all things considered.

  "I'm sorry about that," I say, sitting down next to Kat. "About running off and the thing about your father."

  "I never told anyone because when he spotted me catching them in the act, he gave a subtle shake of his head and mouthed No one will believe you."

  "And you've spent the rest of your life proving yourself."

  A dry laugh escapes Kat's lips. "You should be a therapist."

  "Life coach?" I shake my head and wrap my arms around Kat. "I'm so sorry about all that and how you've kept it with you all this time."

  "The thing is, my mother knew. They stayed married for appearances—their money and social lives were enmeshed. He took his secret to the grave."

  "But you said your mom knew."

  "She was too proud to admit it. But I could tell. When he'd go on business trips—that's when we'd do things like make crazy-roni—I'd hear her crying at night. She told me, 'Never trust a man with something as precious as your heart.'"

  "Did she say anything about women?" I ask.

  "There was that one girl when I was in Bali—" Kat starts. "But I like men, just on a temporary, nightly basis."

  "Are you saying they're disposable?"

  "Not at all, there are some I hook up with more than once, but it's better to keep my emotions out of it. You could try my methods. See what happens."

  I sigh. "I'm not like you."

  "No, you're like you, but what's stopping you, Navy?" Her eyes are heavy and my vision blurs, but the various beverages she served me act like truth serum. And someone who is as thoughtful and honest as Katya deserves the truth.

  "Remember I said that thing about how my friend Claire Kennely died?" My voice is low, keeping to the safety of the shadows in the room.

  She nods.

  "It was horrible. Car accident on prom night."

  "Drunk driving?" Kat asks. Her face crumbles.

  "It was instant." Goosebumps pebble my skin. I've never talked to anyone other than the counselor my parents had me see afterward.

  "We were best friends up until a week before prom."

  "What happened?"

  "I found out that my boyfriend, Zach, was cheating on me."

  "Ouch."

  "I caught him, actually. He was on the football team; Melanie was on cheer for a rival school. It turned out they'd been hooking up for months after various events involving both teams. We were at a party and I walked in the room where I left my coat. They were naked on top of it."

  "You saw them—"

  "His naked ass was in the air and—" I shake my head, but that's never worked to erase the image. "I'll never forget."

  "Was it a pale ass or a tan, muscular one?"

  I whack her with a pillow.

  "I need a clearer image. Was he hot? I mean, there's no excuse, but I didn't know you had a high school boyfriend who cheated on you so when I go to track him down, I need to know whose ass I'm looking for."

  This wins her a smile even though everything about this story makes me want to rage. "Be right back."

  I go to my room and grab my yearbook. When I return, dawn has snuck in, softening the light in the room to lavender gray.

  The yearbook falls open to a candid shot of Zach and me as a couple. My head rests on his shoulder. I'm gazing lovingly up at him, and he's staring off in the distance, probably at Melanie or some other girl.

  I tap the photo. "I've stared at this for hours, wondering how I didn't know. It seems impossible."

  "Of course you didn't know. Usually, cheaters try to keep these things secret."

  "No. That's the thing. Everyone knew."

  "What do you mean?" Kat asks.

  "Zach was Carrick's best friend. Carrick was Claire's brother. Carrick and I were close. He knew. He'd mentioned it to Claire before he left for college. She never told me. No one told me as I went along in my cotton candy, bubble gum cloud of bliss thinking all was well in my little waspy world. Meanwhile, they'd been hooking up for ages. Duh, so had we. I was so mad at Claire for never telling me. Then before we'd even had a chance to make up, Claire died in the accident."

  Kat doesn't say anything as I fall apart, tears streaming down my face. My shoulders shudder and she pulls me into a hug.

  When I wipe my eyes she says, "Has anyone ever told you this Zach dude is a fool?"

  "No, but I've certainly thought worse things."

  "Has anyone ever told you that your friends, dead or alive, sorry, God rest her soul, were assholes?"

  My tired eyes widen.

  "Damn straight I'm speaking ill of the dead. If some douche was cheating on you, you'd better believe I'd make sure you knew that you were too good for him and to cut your losses and maybe I'd cut—"

  I shake my head.

  "Fools and assholes, Navy, but that's no reason to keep yourself from loving or at least liking again."

  She's not wrong, but I keep the rest of the story to myself.

  "I'm sorry that happened to you." She gives me another hug and gets to her feet. "Now that we know each other's secrets we should get some sleep."

  I close my eyes and as I hear her say, "Goodnight," I pass out.

  *

  I don't get nearly enough sleep, but it's Sunday, which means tomorrow is Monday. I don't want to Monday. I'd rather wash dishes, which is what I'm doing when Kat wanders out wearing a T-shirt that says But first, coffee.

  "I feel you so hard on that," I say, pointing to her shirt. "But I can't find the pods."

  "Maybe the guy down the hall has some to spare."

  I raise my eyebrows, "Are you going to ask him, sporting that disheveled hangover look, raccoon eyes, and the faint traces of lip liner? You're hot, but I don't think even you can pull that off. I for one am not setting foot outside this apartment until I don't look like this." I gesture to my bedhead.

  "Point taken. I haven't looked in a mirror. I know the coffee is around here somewhere."

  After opening and scattering the contents of the several remaining boxes, we still can't find the coffee.

  Kat pulls on a hat, wraps a scarf around half her face, and armed with a wad of cash, sets off on a mission to get us coffee.

  "I'll keep looking for the pods," I shout as she slams the door. She'll probably meet some hottie and get his number before I find the them.

  I sigh, finish the dishes, and then set up my laptop on the center island. I'm tempted to browse puppies, but recalling the conversation from last night about OTPs, I browse lists of fictional lovers that make my heart flutter.

  Minutes later, Katya bursts through the doorway bearing coffee. "And to continue our comfort food extravaganza, I brought doughnuts. Look at these. Fruity pebbles on top of this one. Cocoa puffs on that chocolate glazed. They count as breakfast, right?"

  "It's lunchtime."

  "Brunch, shmunch. See, this one is cheesecake flavored, and I got this Nutella one because, Nutella. Oh my nom."

  "I should bring a box of these to the office with me tomorrow. Maybe someone will like me." I point to a pillowy bit of fried dough covered in cinnamon sugar. "What's that one?" I ask,

  "They guy said it was a churro doughnut."

  "The guy?" I ask, plucking the churro doughnut from the box.

  She waves a flag of paper in front of me. "My fingers were too frozen to put his number in my phone. I did it old school." She takes a bite of her doughnut and glances at my computer. "Don't tell me you're looking at puppies again. However, I wouldn't be opposed to trying to convince Andre we should be allowed to have a dog next time I see him."

  "Who?"

  "The leasing agent," she says around a sip of coffee. "If your period has recalibrated itself and you're already having PMS, I'm in trouble. You know what they say about women who live together. Maybe that explains all the comfort food cravings."

  "I am not having my period or PMS or puppy fever or cravings. You're the one who brought the doughnuts. I was just doing some research."

  She spins the laptop to face her. "Buttercup and Wesley, Daisy and Gatsby? These are some major power couples. I know exactly what kind of research and development you and I need to do."

  I peer over her shoulder as she pulls up an online dating website.

  "No. No way," I say, shoving my churro doughnut in my mouth.

  She's already typing at lightning speed. "What kind of guy do you want?"

  I don't answer, but when her stare makes me feel as though nuclear attack is imminent, I say, "Not the human, cheating kind. I prefer my men on paper."

  Kat laughs. "Any particular taste in appearance. I'm going to assume you'd prefer he have hair, on his head, not so much on his body. Hmm." She taps her chin. "Vocation? Look," she points, "There are all kinds of filters."

  I reach for a doughnut drizzled with chocolate and red velvet crumbs.

  "Navy, despite what you told me last night, I'm familiar with the content of the books you read. Actually, reading isn't the right word. Consuming. You devour books. I know you want your heart to heal. We've been friends for nearly a decade. You have the hopeless romantic strain of DNA. I know you do."

  This is also true.

  "You've journaled about this, right? Your ideal guy and being in a relationship…"

  Guilty.

  "Vision boards…"

  I don't answer.

  "Affirmations?"

  I take another bite of doughnut and shrug.

  "So, we're doing R&D. I'm not suggesting you meet any of the men that pop up, though it's not a bad idea. Look at this guy. Mmm. Delicious."

  "Kat, you should make a profile."

  "Unnecessary. I know what my needs are. Where was I? Oh right, you. Maybe if you considered what you'd like in a relationship, you'd be more apt to take chances because you might find the one."

  My vision blurs with liquid.

  "Navy Catherine Carrington. Yes, Zach broke your heart, but you cannot give him that kind of power. You're letting something that happened in high school make you miserable now. I had my heart broken senior year. In junior year, I had such bad acne I wouldn't leave the house. Sophomore year I failed a class. And freshman year? Don't even get me started on why I didn't make the cheer team."

  "You've never let any of it stop you," I say, thinking of her long roster of accomplishments.

  "Hell no. I use setbacks and speedbumps for fuel. You can't expect to love without it sometimes hurting. That's part of life. Like they say, a broken heart tells you that you once loved and that's a pretty special thing. But it's time to move on. You with me?"

  I set the doughnut down, my heart beating out a rough rhythm of uncertainty.

  "It's time to figure out who Navy, the most eligible woman in Manhattan, really is and what she wants."

  Chapter 7

  Peacocks and Pigeons

  Even though I have no intention of dating anyone that appears on the profile, I indulge Katya as she rifles off questions about my so-called dating desires.

  "Do you want him to share your interests? Books for instance? Maybe the two of you could get hot and heavy reading smut." She moans dramatically. "Ooh, his slick manhood something-something penetrates something-something the flowering folds of her core."

  I squeeze my eyes shut and try to keep from laughing. "No, no! I don't read those kinds of romance novels and I don't only read romance novels."

  "Check this out. This guy blogs about his dating life as though he was on the Bachelor. Is that a turn off or should we see if you fit his criteria? I saw you were online reading about getting back in the dating game…"

  "That was like three years ago and the blog post was about avoiding romantic entanglements in the workplace. I had to give a presentation for human resources."

  "And this, right now has been nearly three times as long in the making. Favorite TV shows? Hmm. Well, you've never missed an episode of the Bachelor."

  "Morbid curiosity."

  Kat cackles. "Right and I only eat chocolate to see if I still like the way it tastes. I'll just go ahead and figure this out for you. Someone who makes her laugh. Check. Strong. Hot. Check, check. Knows how to cook, that's useful. Or at least make coffee. Independent and hard working. Check and check."

  As Katya continues to fill out the dating profile, my thoughts drift to seeing Carrick the other day. His broad shoulders and chest, his capable hands, and his lips fill my thoughts as I nervously braid the strings on the throw blanket covering my lap.

  "Navy, hello! You’re the wordsmith help me come up with a catchy headline."

  I snap back to the present. "I thought this was just for research and development. I don’t really feel comfortable putting myself out there like that. I don't even have a Facebook page."

  "Actually, you do. I made one for you in college. You're single, available, and ready for fun. Password is Navybean." She breaks into a smile at the sight of my complete and utter dismay. "I'm joking. But you'll never find the kind of romance you want if you don't open yourself to it."

  "I'm getting there slowly. Like a turtle. I just can't do the online thing."

  "No, I guess not." She angles the computer screen to me. "Based on your criteria there are only five datable guys out of two-hundred-thousand something on this site. That won't do." She unclicks a few of the boxes and then says, "I know! Let's go out next weekend. There's this new club I've been wanting to check out. I dare you…"

  I swallow hard, our conversation from the early hours spinning back to me like a drunken top.

  It must knock Katya in the head because her face lights up. "Wait. I already dared you. Last night. I remember now. I dared you to date the first five guys you see. Come on. Let's get ready."

  Katya's phone vibrates. "Dannielle needs me to teach her class. Her daughter is sick. Poor baby."

  "Don't you have a hangover?"

  "Yoga is the cure for everything. You should come. First five guys. Yoga dudes are usually pretty sensitive and adventurous if you know what I mean..."

  "I'm not very flexible."

  "Yes, I know." She huffs a breath in the direction of the computer screen. "But you're not getting out of this. First five and you have to give them each a chance."

  I begrudgingly change clothes, tucking The Boyfriend Book back in the box and stashing it out of sight.

  "Are you ready?" Kat asks, popping into my room.

  Where I have I baggy eyes and a puffy face she looks like she belongs on the front cover of a yoga magazine.

  While I lock the door behind us, she whispers, "First five."

  When I turn around, the door to 7G opens and out walks our neighbor. My boot catches on the carpet and I stumble before tucking the evidence of my embarrassment in the form of flaming red cheeks behind Kat; her height comes in handy for more than reaching the top cabinets in the kitchen.