Meghan guzzled a craft beer in seconds, pumping her Adam's apple as the loud pub pulsed around her.
"Ahhhh," she sighed, and smacked her glass on the wooden table. She smiled. "You learn a few things growing up in Minnesota."
Her audience of two was split. Charlie, Meghan's coworker, grinned. His girlfriend Marissa looked slightly sick.
Meghan giggled. "What?" She asked. "It's not that hard. You just sort of tilt your head back and - open your throat, like this."
Marissa brushed her long brown hair out of one eye. "Uh-huh. Wow. You said you learned that in Minnesota?"
"Well, for like two weeks in college I wanted to rush a sorority. So you have to learn how to drink a lot of beer really fast. I remember one time they ... I think it was Chi Omega, they had this big house, and we had to drink a six-pack in six minutes without throwing up. And most of the girls puked all over the house but I didn't!"
Charlie, who had been popping croutons from Marissa's salad: "Yeah, and I bet the guys found some use for that skill, too."
Marissa moaned a "god" and slapped his muscled arm. Meghan blushed, giggled and snorted.
"It's cool, Meghan. Trust me," Charlie declared. "Nothing better than a girl who can keep up." He glanced down at Marissa, who rolled her eyes.
Meghan turned from the couple and watched the lunch crowd. This was one of her favorite places to eat in the city - close to work, pretty close to home, and full of college kids having fun. She was only a year removed from graduation but already missed school. Seeing young people flirt, drink and joke with each other was like comfort food.
She watched an obvious first date across the room. It wasn't going well - the guy looked nervous, the girl was bored. Meghan watched her stare at her drink, pushing the straw around her tall glass while her date jabbered away.
Too bad, Meghan thought. He's cute. She wondered why Marissa put up with Charlie - the short brunette always seemed so frustrated with her tall, muscular boyfriend. But if Charlie noticed, he didn't care. He often teased Marissa until she was downright pissed off, then he'd laugh about it and move to whoever else was around. Meghan thought it was cute, but she doubted Marissa felt the same.
"It's really loud here," Marissa said. "Do you guys come here a lot?"
"Oh, I love it here," Meghan said. "The food is really good. Actually I've never had this burger before and it's great, do you want some?" (Marissa shook her head.) "Yeah, I'd say we come here...Twice a week?"
"Meghan's waiting for some college guy to hit on her," Charlie grinned.
"Oh, no," Meghan said. Her companions smiled at each other; she couldn't tell why. (They liked her thick Midwestern accent.) "But actually I was here last weekend - I think Thursday - and this one guy was like, really aggressive on me. It was gross," she said to raised eyebrows.
Marissa scoffed. "You need a guy like Charlie to put them off," she said. "I don't think anyone has hit on me in the two years we've been dating as long as we're together. Actually, maybe you can just date Charlie for a while. I need a break."
"Fuck you!" Charlie laughed, stealing chicken off his girlfriend's nigh-untouched salad. Neither of them noticed the flush in Meghan's face.
The Midwestern brunette buried her head in lunch and finished it. She tried to ignore the two beautiful people cooing at each other across the table.
"Can you pay for me?" She said, tossing her credit card on the table and turning to Marissa. "I'm going to the bathroom. Don't let him leave my number for the waitress, he always does that."
She left the table and headed for the stairs, passing the two people she had watched earlier. She caught a whiff of conversation - the man stuttering something about "risk-reward calculators" and sighed. To be young again.
But she was young. Staring in the bathroom mirror five minutes later, Meghan saw a 23-year-old woman with a round face, wide mouth and healthy glow. She washed her hands slowly, churning through insecurities.
What was it about her that said "friend" to guys like Charlie? Was she too manly? Did she have to start eating salads and looking bored all the time, like Marissa?
She was lost in thought when first-date girl stepped next to her, checking her makeup in the adjacent mirror.
"Sometimes you just have bad chemistry," Meghan said. The woman spoke without looking at her.
"Oh my god, it's terrible. And it's crazy because he's so good in bed. That's the only reason I go out with him. He's the least interesting man I've ever met."
Meghan giggled. "Never judge a guy by his cover!"
The woman turned, seemingly satisfied with her porcelain face. "Where are you from? Your accent is cute."
"Oh, Minnesota. Born and raised."
"Wow," she said, grabbing a paper towel, realizing she didn't need it and handing it to Meghan. "I didn't know people lived that far north. So you're used to dating farm boys, then."
"Oh, I wish. I went to school in Minneapolis so it was ... basically a lot of hipsters and frat guys. Not so different from here, actually!"
"Great. Well, good luck with yours. I noticed him, he's hot." She left Meghan alone.
Meghan picked a piece of meat out of her teeth and headed back to Marissa and Charlie. Their table had already been cleared, Marissa was digging around for a breath mint.
"Okay, I have a late class tonight so I won't be home until 7," Marissa said when she'd found one. She popped it in her mouth and tongue-kissed Charlie. Meghan blushed and tried to busy herself signing her receipt.
Marissa giggled. "Hey, give it back!" She kissed Charlie again. "Okay, bye," she said, and he left the booth so Marissa could stand. "Bye, Meghan."
"Bye, good to see you!" Meghan stammered. She and Charlie watched Marissa leave the bar, drawing looks from men and women the whole way.
Meghan cocked her head and stared at Charlie, who had sat back down. "Ya gonna go, or are we just gonna...?"
"Yeah, give me a minute. Actually, I'll be right back," Charlie said. He stood and walked away.
"Bathroom's the other way, Charlie!" She yelled. He didn't seem to notice.
Meghan sat, pulled out her phone and checked Twitter. It was always a strange combination of dark news of the world and even darker news of her life. Everyone from college was getting married and everyone from high school was getting pregnant. Or addicted to drugs.
She glanced over the room again and settled back on the couple from earlier - apparently not a first date at all. The guy still boring the pants off his companion. Meghan snorted. What was it that made a guy good in bed?
Charlie had returned - she knew because he was standing behind her, flicking her ear. She decided to ask.
"What makes a guy good in bed?"
Charlie smirked. "Meet me in the bathroom, I'll show ya."
Meghan smiled and slapped his arm. They headed for the exit. "I'm serious. I was just talking to some girl in the bathroom and she said her date was so boring but he was really good in bed. So because YOU made me wait for whatever it was you were doing I started thinking about it. Like is it your personality? Is it your ... ya know, size?"
Charlie held the door for her as they crossed into the Charlotte sun. He put his hands in his pockets as they started the three-block walk to the gym.
"Well, fuck, I dunno. You should be asking Marissa, not me."
"Somehow I doubt she'd talk about it."
"She doesn't have to," Charlie said, crossing a puddle with one long stride. "Dancer's body. Damn."
"Shut up. Ew," Meghan groaned. But they lapsed into silence and Meghan couldn't stop herself from picturing it. Charlie towering over his small lover's tight body ... brown hair swirling as he ...
Wet.
"Idiot," Charlie chuckled. Meghan had stepped in a deep puddle, waterlogging her left leg up to the ankle.
"Fuck!" She yelled. A few other people on the sidewalk turned, looked, turned back. Meghan kneeled, unstrapped her greek sandal and shook it.
"How did you not see that?"
"I don't know, Charlie, shut up," she huffed. "Let's just go." She walked half-barefoot the rest of the way.
"Sorry I yelled at you," she mumbled as they reached Max Fitness. Meghan strapped her foot back into the sandal - she'd have to change out of them anyway, she couldn't wear sandals while she worked. But she hated wearing her uniform in public.
"I'm hurt," Charlie said. He stepped close to her, leaving his crotch in her face. "Make it up to me, Meghan!"
"Oh my GAWD, Charlie, STOP," Meghan said. She swatted him and he mimed pain. But for just a second Meghan thought she'd ... touched it, and that carried her through the rest of an otherwise mediocre day.
Meghan had rental desk duty late on a Friday afternoon. That meant standing around in a yellow polo shirt and black workout pants and handing towels to gym members on their way to the locker rooms.
Most of working at Max Fitness involved standing around. The owners scheduled more people than were necessary, even for such a big place. A lot of the members were younger, too, so they were loath to ask anyone for help or a demonstration. It wasn't the most fulfilling work, but it kept the lights on for Meghan while she worked on getting her poetry published.
Meghan spent that Friday chatting with Jessica, a leggy redhead who claimed to hate Max Fitness but worked more hours than anyone else.
"Look at this douchebag," Jessica said, leaning back against Meghan's desk and surveying the lower floor. She jutted her head out at a guy squatting in a cut-off t-shirt. He almost screamed every time he pushed the weight up with his legs.
"Nevermind, LISTEN to this douchebag. Are you impressed, Meghan? Are his primal sounds making you all tingly inside?"
Meghan giggled. "Oh, I dunno. At least he can lift 'em. I'd rather a guy be strong than a little wimp."
"Please. All men are weak. If I went and talked to Mr. Big Stwong Man right now he'd be speechless." Jessica pulled out her phone and sighed. "Fuck men."
Meghan put on her best sweetheart voice as a few girls came up and asked for towels. Jessica paid them no mind. She turned to Meghan after they'd gone.
"So what's happening with your landlord?"
"Ahh ... I dunno, he's trying to be nice about it. But he says if he changes the locks it has to come out of our security deposit, which is ridiculous. Because apparently it costs $200 to change the locks in a three-bedroom house."
"Why does it matter how many bedrooms there are?"
"I don't think it does, it's just - I dunno. He's being really victim-blamey about the whole thing. Nobody WANTED our house to get broken into. But he keeps, like, kind of implying it's our fault? Which is not okay."
"Can't you sue him or something?"
