Page 114 of My So-Called Perfect Life

“I’ve been the one to make the first moves.”

“What first moves?”

I can sense her aggravation with me, but I don’t care.

“That first night,” I remind her, “I started it all by saying I should find someone to screw to get over Scott. And I’m the one who went back to the bar to yell at him.”

“I wasn’t there for the first meeting between you guys but that second one doesn’t count as you making the first move,” she counters. “You wanted to confront him. You had to be carried out covered in vomit. If anything, he made the first move, inviting you to stay and then asking you out on a date after we went to see him.”

“Okay,” I say. “Then, by that token, it’s two-to-one in the first-move department, so clearly, it’s my move.”

Amelia sits forward and grabs my hands, clasping them between hers, as if she were talking to a child. “Danielle, this isn’t a game. I think you’ve had too much to drink, and you’re not in a great place. You’re sad and missing him. You shouldn’t be making off-the-cuff decisions right now.”

Who the hell is she kidding?

Alcohol is what made me and Ryan possible.

Plus, Ryan has been preaching about taking risks and living life in the moment.

I’m in the goddam moment.

“Since when has being a bit tipsy hindered my relationship with Ryan?”

“Danielle, listen to me.” She pins me with a pointed look as her voice hardens. “You’re drunk. You’re sad. You’re not thinking clearly. Ryan isn’t playing some game with you or testing you. You guys had a pretty intense beginning, and things moved faster than he was ready for. You guys needed time and space. If you’re ready to talk about moving forward together, maybe start with a conversation instead of charging in full steam ahead with some cock-eyed plan you have in your drunk mind. ”

“No.” I dismiss her idea, liking my drunken one better. “He asked me if I had a plan for our future. I said no, but I do. It’s all I can think about. Getting married. Having kids. Will they look like him or me? What will Mom and Dad think of him? How would he feel about living in the suburbs? I keep thinking about it, Amelia. And no matter how many times I go out and meet men, no one else I meet will fit into the Ryan shape in those pictures.”

She looks almost sorry for me as she tries to fake a smile. I’ve known the woman her whole life. I can tell when she’s faking.

“Well then, maybe give him a call tomorrow and see if you can grab some coffee and talk.”

“Fuck tomorrow and coffee.” Is she crazy? “This is too important to wait. I need to get to Cohen’s.”

Ignoring my sister’s pleas for me to think about waiting until tomorrow, I dash into my room and start stripping out of my clothes. I can’t see Ryan for the first time in a month, wearing one of his T-shirts and sweatpants.

“Danielle,” she calls after me, but it’s too late.

I’m on a mission. I’m getting my man back. Screw this break shit. He wants to know I want him and only him? Well, he’s about to get a dose of how much I want him.

I grab my favorite jeans, a white T-shirt, and my brown leather jacket that matches my boots. In under five minutes, I’m fluffing my hair in the mirror and swiping on some lip gloss. This is the most energetic I’ve been in days.

When I finish and reemerge from my room, my sister is waiting for me at the door with her shoes on and her coat and purse in her hand.

“You’re not going by yourself,” she says.

At this point, I don’t care how I get there or who is with me. I just need to get to Ryan. “Fine.”

* * *

I practically jogup the subway stairs when we get to the station near the bar.

“Danielle, chill out. You don’t even know if he’s there.”

“Yes, I do,” I toss over my shoulder as I make a right down the block toward the back alley of Cohen’s. “There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.”

“At least slow down,” she calls out. “It’s like there was cocaine in that beer.”

Continuing to ignore her like I have been since we left the house, I reach the alley that leads to the back entrance of Cohen’s. It’s quicker than walking around the block to the front door.