“At first,” she told Emily, “it seemed like he didn’t notice me at all. Nothing was different. Except he didn’t ask me to dance. He always asks me to dance. As if he has to. Like it’s his duty. Since I’m technically his ‘date.’”

“Jen? You’re babbling.”

“Right.” Jenny’s moist hands slipped on the warm steering wheel. “He didn’t ask me to dance.”

“I got that.”

“I got ticked off and left. I mean, the hair, the dress, the makeup, the shoes. Do you blame me for being upset? Don’t you think any normal, red-blooded guy would have asked me to dance?”

“I don’t blame you for getting ticked off. And, for what it’s worth, I thought you looked hot.”

“Thank you. I agree. I felt like a fool. But I looked hot.”

Emily smirked and snorted out a laugh.

“So, I leave the reception. I head for my car.”

“Which I’d incapacitated.”

Jenny nodded her acknowledgment. “Which you’d incapacitated. Thank you very much, by the way.”

“Did it work?”

“Like a charm.”

“I knew it would.”

“He drove me home.”

“I knew he would.”

“And I slept with him.”

“I knew-” Emily twisted in her seat. “Wait a minute. What?”

“I slept with Mitch.” Jenny was really quite proud of how detached she sounded as she went into the sordid details. “I tore off my clothes. Or maybe I tore off his clothes, I can’t quite remember the details. In any event, we were both naked.”

Emily’s voice rose to a squeal. “You slept with Mitch Hayward?”

Jenny glanced at her friend’s incredulous expression. “Am I not saying this right?”

“On the first date?”

“Well, technically, it wasn’t a date. Or I guess you could say it was our twelfth date, if you count dates that aren’t really dates. But, really, at this point, I’m planning to take credit for them all. It makes me seem less slutty, don’t you think?”