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“ F uck,” I yell at the piece I’m working on, but it gives me nothing back. Just a waste of metal. It’s not talking to me, and my head is too lost in other crap to focus on bending it to my will to force something out of it.

But instead of calling it names like I want, I chuck it across the room to my crap pile.

There’s an entire corner of my workstation dedicated to me throwing something at it.

Sometimes you just need to throw something, or punch someone.

But since the person I want to punch is myself, I can’t do it. Got too pretty a face to ruin it.

“Jeez, what did that piece of metal ever do to you?”

I glare as Domino strolls in as if he owns the place. I’m already in a pissed-off mood; I don’t need him here to agitate me any further. I should have kept the bay doors closed and just suffered in the dark like a normal person.

“Fuck off. Shop’s closed.” I turn and lightly set my tools down. I want to throw them like I did the last sculpture, but these cost too much. I might be mad, but I still have a brain. Not going to ruin things I’ve invested in. I can always get new metal but finding good tools is the real trick.

“Oh, someone’s in a bad mood. Want to talk about it?

” I notice he hops onto the workbench that has a space big enough for him to squeeze his fine ass into and not upset my chaos of a workshop.

Summer says it’s not organized, but I know where everything is since I put it there, and that’s all that matters.

If someone moves it, then we’ve got a problem.

“No.” I say it. I believe it. And yet my mouth opens, and word vomit comes out. “I fucked up, and I feel stupid for it.”

“What was the fuckup?”

I shake my head. “Nothing earth-shattering. Just screwed up some advertising I was trying to do. Ran a promotion deal, or at least I thought I did. Buy one sculpture, pick a second of three premade ones for free.”

“Did no one buy any or something?”

I wave off his comment as I keep my back to him and clean my stuff. “Nah, got a shit ton of orders. More than I expected.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

I sigh in frustration that I can’t even clean my stuff with so much on my mind.

I keep going over the same spots repeatedly, forgetting to put cleanser on each time.

Ugh. “I thought I changed my one social media ad to show the promotion, but apparently I didn’t submit it or something.

So, it never went through. Those who saw the promotion only got it because they were already on the website or part of my newsletter.

You know, people already looking at my stuff. ”

“I’m still not following.”

I huff as I throw my rag on the table and turn, leaning against the table as I cross my arms and look at him.

“I’m mad at the potential sales I lost. The possible new clients that the algorithm was going to push the sale out to.

I watched my numbers the entire time, but since I never saw a drop in sales, I never noticed the lack of new clients.

I only noticed something was off when I didn’t get charged for the ad.

An entire month with no ads.” I glare at the corner and hate that I have nothing more to throw.

At least nothing in arm’s reach at the moment.

“Didn’t you say that revenue didn’t fall off? So the sales you made are clean of advertising payout?”

I nod at his words, still glaring at the pile.

“Isn’t that a good thing? Word of mouth and repeat customers are what’s driving the sales market right now.”

I look back at him to see him scratching his head, literally.

I push the hair that fell out of my ponytail off my face as I nod.

I thought of that, but my anger outweighs the thrill.

“Yeah, and I should be happy. But I can’t stop thinking about how many more it could have been.

How much more I could have made.” I know I’m being stupid, but when you’re in business for yourself, a small mistake feels huge.

“Even worse is that when I noticed the ad was off, I turned it back on, but somehow the system changed or a glitch happened, and I lost all the fan reviews linked to the original ad post. So I have to start over. Three years’ worth of good press down the drain.

Fucking sucks.” I kick at the floor but still just want to throw things.

And keep throwing them. I should hit the gym.

Then again, when I’m worked up like this, I’m too much in my head to do more than get more pissed at myself.

Throwing things is where I’m at right now, not hitting the bag.

But since I can’t throw any more possible inventory, I’m stuck glaring at the floor and scuffing it up with my boots.

And apparently dealing with a biker who can’t get the hint to leave me alone to sink into my bad mood.

“Why are you here? ”

He shrugs. “Wanted to know if you were hungry.”

“You asking me out?” I’m more surprised than anything, and it completely puts what I was feeling three seconds ago on hold.

“Maybe. You interested?”

I feel my lips give in to a slow smile before I nod.

He gives me one of his own. The kind that probably melts panties off women. “You think you can be ready in an hour?”

“Sure.”

“Great. I’ll be back to pick you up.” He hops off the table and walks away, stopping at the last second to turn back. “Oh, and I’ll pay. No need for you to waste all that extra revenue,” he says with a smirk.

I swear, if I had something, I would throw it. This time at his head.

“Okay, this is fine. Everything is fine. You’re fine. You look fine. You’ll be fine.” I take a deep breath and hold it for three seconds before blowing it out at the mirror.

“Um, based off all that, I don’t think you’re fine,” Summer mumbles through my phone.

I put her on speaker after I did my makeup so I could change into my outfit.

And sure, it might have taken me a few tries to find one I liked.

Okay, like twelve or something. Enough to forget that she was still on the phone.

So when I come out to do my manifestation in the mirror, because I saw it on TikTok earlier today and thought I would try it, it’s no wonder I freak and knock my phone off the counter.

“Shit.”

“Well, I know that’s not a good sign. What’d you do now?”

I bend down and pick it up, no longer freaked, just annoyed. Heavily annoyed. “Dropped my phone and cracked the screen.”

And this right here, ladies and gentlemen, is why I don’t date.

I put the phone carefully back on the sink counter and then rest my hands on the counter, too, holding myself up as I try to take another calming breath to get back to my Zen state.

Whatever that is. Still trying to find it.

The woman on TikTok said if you just breathe enough times, you’ll find it.

I call BS, but I’m still doing it, so who’s the real fool in all of this?

Me. That’s who.

“Don’t.” Summer’s voice comes through loud and clear.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t see this as an omen, a sign from the gods, or even karma somehow. You’re going on the date. You’re not canceling.”

I frown at the phone, not that she can see me.

Even if we were on FaceTime, the screen is completely screwed.

I’m going to need a put a Band-Aid on my finger just to operate it without getting glass in it.

I’m honestly surprised it still works at all, but I’m not going to jinx it any more than I have to by saying something stupid.

Like “nothing else can get worse.” ’Cause it can.

A cracked phone screen is a minor issue in the larger scale of life. Summer and I both know that.

“All I’m saying is that since I said yes to this date, bad things have happened. It might just be the universe telling me not to go.”

“Really? You seriously think the universe has nothing better to do than make sure you don’t get laid?

Girl, it was a chain that broke on your bay door.

Those things are old. I’m sure they snap all the time if you actually looked it up.

And the lights flickering and causing you to slip when putting on mascara so you made a streak the size of the Rio Grande down your cheek and were forced to redo your makeup is more common than you think.

If you put more of an effort into makeup in the first place, you wouldn’t need lights on.

It would just be second nature. And finally, you can’t blame nothing looking good on you because of the date.

You’re going on a date. By definition, nothing’s meant to look good on the first date.

You’re meant to freak and complain and say you have nothing to wear.

And don’t say you didn’t. I was on the phone, remember?

I heard everything. Also, now might be a good time to book an appointment with a psychologist after you get a new phone, because I don’t think it’s normal to talk to yourself that much. ”

I mean, when she puts it like that…. Yeah, I’m not vain enough to think the entire universe centers around me. I barely think it notices me most days. Why would it suddenly take an interest now?

Sure, I’ve been known to see signs before and use it as a reason for certain things.

Mostly I just use them as an excuse to not go out.

I’m a home girl, sue me. I like comfy clothes and ordering tacos to go.

I enjoy my own company. And I can always fill it with work or just zoning-out time.

Or sleep. I love sleep. And I swear you can never get enough.

But if I’m going to claim the universe is trying to get me to stay home, I also need to be honest with myself. I’m nervous.