"Why are you wearing sunglasses?" Kimmy asks as I listlessly sit down in front of her. "It's raining."

The sound of her high-pitched voice is causing my brain to vibrate. I woke up this morning with a pounding headache, the kind where looking at anything white or bright causes your eyes to shake. I didn't think I was that drunk last night. I mean, I didn't feel sober, but this? This is why I have the four limit rule. Stupid evil brown elixir.

"This is barbaric. Why did you drag me out of the house?" I whine. "Also, why aren't you dead today? You probably had way more to drink after Hunter and I left."

"Oh yeah! I was totally out of it. Jack had to carry me to my bed!" Kimmy laughs. "But, I woke up around 3 a.m. and puked for an hour, so ta-da! Cured!"

A waiter sets down two large iced lattes on our table. Kimmy must have ordered them while she was waiting. I grab one and take a massive sip.

"Kimmy!" I shriek spitting the latte back into the glass goblet, drops of white cream splash all over my face. I remove my sunglasses. "What is this?!"

Kimmy slowly places the straw in her mouth and mumbles.

"Kimmy..."

"Coffee!" Kimmy exclaims and looks sideways. "Of the Irish variety."

"How much "Irish" did you ask them to put in here?!"

Kimmy shrugs. "I don't know? I just told them to replace the milk with Bailey's."

Shaking my head I flag down the waiter and order a regular iced latte. Kimmy frowns.

"You're crazy. You know that, right? It's 11 a.m." The subtle hint of whiskey lingers in my mouth as I take a sip of ice water.

"Hey! I did this for you! Hair of the dog, or whatever," Kimmy says defensively. "Sorry for caring about your hangover!"

I sigh. "Thanks, I appreciate the gesture but I'll just take some more ibuprofen and ride this out like a normal person."

Kimmy scoffs. "Whatever, suit yourself!"

We sit in silence as the waiter returns with my new drink, Kimmy shooting me death glares every time our eyes meet.

This is our classic stand-off. It's like we're cowboys, and this quaint wall-papered café is the desert, and our mouths are the pistols; except if you shoot first, you lose. We're sitting at about 100 to 2, in my favour, but it's cute that Kimmy thinks she has a chance. I can sense she's about to break, her tiny body literally can't handle this much silence.

"OK! Enough, you win!" Kimmy yells. I smile. 101 to 2. "Tell me about your night! I'm dying to know. DYING!"

And we're back.

I give Kimmy a detailed run down of the night, purposely omitting the Jason parts.

"He totally likes you!" Kimmy squeals. "Oh my God, how adorable would it be if we married brothers? We'd be like sisters-in-law and our kids would be cousins and we could all live in a Brownstone together!"

"I think Hunter needs to take me on a real date first," I laugh. "Plus, we just met. I don't think we're going to get married anytime soon."

"Ok, I know that!" Kimmy sighs. "But could you imagine how fun it would be?"

I glance up to the ceiling and try to visualize Kimmy's picture; Jack, Kimmy, Hunter and I sitting around a dining room table laughing about something we read in the Sunday paper but then the picture tears in half. "I guess so... but for all we know, Hunter could be one of those guys who never wants to get married." Like Miles.

"I doubt it," Kimmy scrapes whipped cream off the sides of her glass with the straw. "He was engaged before."

I widen my eyes and my heart drops. Hunter? Engaged?

"What? To who?"

"I don't know her name," Kimmy leans across the table and lowers her voice. "But I was creeping Jack's Instagram account this morning, and there was this post from like a year ago; it was a picture of Jack, looking so good in a suit, standing next to an ice sculpture. I think it was like a swan or something, or maybe it was a large dove-"

"Kimmy!"

"Right, sorry. Anyway, the photo was hashtagged: engagement party, HC+CH, and love."

I tilt my head in confusion. "How do you know it was Hunter's engagement party?"

"The hashtags, duh. HC? Hunter Carlisle." Detective Kimmy has reported for duty.

I lean back in my seat. "Were there any other posts from that day? Like pictures of Hunter or her." It's times like this I wish I didn't delete my social media accounts. Maybe I'll reactivate them...

"No, just that one. But I tried to see if Jack had anyone following him with the initials CH, but no one came up. And it doesn't look like Hunter has Instagram either."

"Do you know when they broke up?" I ask nervously. I hope it wasn't recent. That seems like a lot of baggage. My subconscious laughs at me. Lilah, you're the definition of baggage.

"No, sorry!" Kimmy frowns. "But you shouldn't worry!"

I look at Kimmy offended. "I'm not worried!"

"Yeah?" Kimmy raises an eyebrow and points to the pieces of ripped up napkin scattered underneath my hands. I quickly pick up all the pieces and toss them in my empty goblet glass. Kimmy laughs as she watches. "Lilah, relax. He's probably over her."

I let out an annoyed grumble. "This is all your fault! I was totally fine being alone, and then you butted in with your 'Hunter will drive you home now, Lilah' and now here I am, sitting at a café with a massive headache subconsciously ripping up napkins like a smitten school girl!"

Kimmy presses her lips into a line, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sorry..." she singsongs slowly. "At least he's your type...hot...tall...OLDER."

I shake my head at Kimmy. "You make me sound so shallow. There are other qualities I look for as well like loyal, dependable, intelligent."

"Hey, your criteria, not mine." Kimmy laughs. "Plus, don't even start with me. You're the one that always talks about the age thing."

I roll my eyes. "It's not a thing... it's just a preference."

"Well, you should be happy that Hunter fits your preference." Kimmy motions for the bill.

"Yeah, I don't know about that. Didn't really work out for me last time," I half-joke.

"Miles doesn't count."

"Why doesn't he count? We were together for over a year."

"Because your problems were about status not age," Kimmy states. Thinking back, she does have a valid point.

"Perhaps dating a professor wasn't the best decision I've ever made." I purse my lips together. "Did I tell you that I called him?"

Kimmy snaps up from her phone. "What? You talked to him? Why?"

"I put him down as a reference for GE, I just called to give him a heads up." The waiter puts the bill on our table. "He said he misses me."

"Lilah, no!" Kimmy stares at me with fire in her eyes. "Do not even think about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Kimmy crosses her arms. "Don't let Miles suck you back into his manipulative vortex."

"I won't! I haven't forgotten what happened. But he keeps calling me."

"So? Block him." I probably should have blocked Miles last May but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Something about it just felt so finite.

I glance over at the pink check as Kimmy returns to scrolling through her phone. Oh my God, each one of those "lattés" cost $13?! I feel bad for spitting it out now.

"Whoa! Lilah!" Kimmy looks at me with widened eyes and she pushes her phone in my face. "Look!"

I read a text message from Jasmine.

Kims! You're not going to believe this!

Last night I was on my way to Seth's

and I swear I saw Jason in the alley

getting the SHIT beat out of him! Deets?

My face turns pale.

Hunter.

So they didn't just "talk".

How is it possible to beat someone up without getting yourself harmed in the process? I guess I didn't check his elbows or knees. He could have gone all MMA on Jason, or used ancient Kung Fu techniques. Oh my God, what if he got Harry to do it for him? No, Harry's probably too old for street fighting.

"That's nuts, right?!" Kimmy taps her phone against her chin. "I wonder who he pissed off."

***

I spend the day going through all the unpaid bills scattered across my dining room table. Each bill gets put into a labelled basket. There are three categories: overdue, past-due and upcoming. It took me three full hours of research to distinguish overdue and past-due when the bills first fell into my domain. Overdue is now marked in red, past-due in yellow and upcoming in green. Thankfully, the red basket is looking rather light this week; I paid Happy Living as soon as Donna released my last paycheck, so I have two more weeks before Caroline comes calling again.

After clearing off the table I sit down and re-read my conversation with Hunter. Why hasn't he called or texted me yet? I guess it's been less than 24 hours and there's probably some rules about waiting a certain amount of time before reaching out after... whatever last night was. Patience, Lilah, patience. I mean he was the one who said he'd like to see me again, so expecting a call isn't so far fetched. Would it be bad if I called him first? What would I even say? Without the help of Kimmy juice I'd probably just mumble incoherently as soon as he answered.

I slam my phone on the table. This is ridiculous. I'll just wait for him to call. There are plenty of things I can do to keep myself occupied until that time comes... like Googling him.

1.2 million results for Hunter Carlisle? I try to narrow down my search. Hunter Carlisle, New York, Healthcare.

I click on the third link, an article from the New York Times.

January 21, 2018

NEW YORK. Fairview Pharmaceuticals, a subsidiary of Carlisle Industries, has announced that their life-saving drug, Profilatol, has been approved by the Food and Drug Administration, and has been granted permission to proceed with clinical testing. This breakthrough drug will help save millions of lives of those suffering from coronary artery disease. Clinical trials are set to begin as early as March 2018. The medical community is confident that Porfilatol will extend the life expectancy of patients by 10 - 20 years.

President of Fairview Pharmaceuticals, Hunter Carlisle, son of Edgar Carlisle, CEO of Carlisle Industries, stated that the Fairview research team has been dedicated to reduction, refinement, and replacement during the pre-clinical trials, and that they are very pleased with the FDA's decision.

I stop reading. Holy shit. His family is a conglomerate! I click the hyperlink that takes me to their website. Whoa. They have three state-of-the-art research facilities and four private hospitals spread throughout the United States.

Well, I can see how he can afford UFC tickets now and a driver... I close the computer.

I'm in way over my head with Hunter. I can't believe I took him to get hot dogs. He's probably never had street food in his life. Oh God.

I take out my phone and call Kimmy.

"Hello?" Kimmy answers.

"I am freaking out!"

"What happened?!"

"I GOOGLED!"

Kimmy laughs. "Ok, so?"

"Kimmy, he's a president of a company!"

"Who cares? It's not like he's the president of the United States! He's just a guy."

"Yeah! A guy with a driver, and probably one of those infinite black visa cards!"

Kimmy laughs again. Apparently my hysteria is comical to her. "I have a black card, and you don't treat me any different."

I sigh. "No, but it's not the same thing. You're my best friend."

"Lilah, it's just money. Why does it matter?"

"That's easy for you to say because you actually have money."

Kimmy must have taken me off speaker phone because her voice gets clearer. "Listen to me, Delilah Sterling. You are an amazing woman, who yes, has some financial troubles in her life. But that does not mean you are below anyone, especially Hunter. From what you told me, he seemed super into you. So stop this pity party and just... date him!"

"Ok. You're right, You're right." I exhale deeply. "But he hasn't called yet!"

"He'll call!" Kimmy's tone indicates that she might be getting a little bit frustrated.

"How do you know?"

"Lilah? He. Will. Call."

"Ok, ok. No need to yell at me."

I swear I could hear Kimmy's eyes rolling through the phone. "Goodnight, Lilah."

"Night, Kim."

The next two days fly by in a haze. I force myself to push everything I learned about Hunter out of my mind, and focus on getting ready for my first day at my new job. This is what matters right now, work. Not Hunter, and not his glorious glowing eyes, and not his tantalizing touch... No, stop it, Lilah.

Work.

Focus on work.