The Hot One

We wander to a plush, blue suede couch, as the saleswoman returns from the enchanted storage room, her arms laden with boxes of shoes.

“Here you go,” she says brightly, handing me the red shoes and the black Mary Janes. “I brought you the red peep toes in a ten, and the Mary Janes in a nine and a half because we don’t have them in a ten.”

“Thanks,” I say, even though her effort is futile. Sales women always think a nine and a half is the same as a ten. But I have never jammed my hooves into anything less than a full and proper ten. It’s a myth that women with petite feet cling to—the mistaken notion that one half size smaller will fit just fine. But we big-footed ladies know that single digit sizes will never fit our German-shepherd-puppy paws.

Penny hands Jane the black boots. “And we saw these beauties and couldn’t resist. Can we try these in a ten, please?”

Jane’s expression turns crestfallen, placing a hand on her heart. “Oh, I’m so sorry. They only go to nine.”

I sigh. The curse of banana boats.

Penny’s eyes light up. In a stage whisper, she says to Jane, “Then just bring them back in a seven.”

I fix her with a searing stare. “You are the luckiest bitch in the world.”

She blows on her fingernails as the saleswoman takes off once more. “I’d still trade you my ears for your feet.”

I run my finger over the shell of her ear. “Stop it. Your ears are perfect.”

She taps her toe to mine. “So are your feet.”

“Fine. We’re both awesome.”

“We absolutely are,” Penny adds.

I open the box of red shoes and tug the silica gel packs and the stuffing from the left one. “But seriously, though. What do you think? And I don’t mean about the physical stuff. Obviously we’ve established the connection is still there. What do you make of the whole effort he’s gone to?”

Penny inhales and downshifts to a more serious tone. “It’s kind of like a grand gesture. Only he had to do it at the start, not at the end.” She sets her hand on my arm. “And I do love that he’s not just making lip service about wanting to see you again. He sent you a salad. Your favorite salad at that. He sent you lilacs. And he sent you himself, in all his naked glory.”

I scrunch my forehead. “So the lilacs and salad and nudity are all on the same level?”

Penny scoffs. “No. The flowers and the salad—let’s be honest, those are a total swoon. But him risking being naked in public for you.” She fans herself. “That’s the big gesture.” She drops her voice. “I mean, it was big, right?”

I pretend to zip my lips. Then I nod the answer. Yes.

“That’s what I’m talking about. It’s not only a big gesture. It’s a you-can’t-ignore-me gesture. The man clearly wanted you to take him seriously, as in pay-attention-to-me-because-I’m-not-going-away.”

“He was kind of hard to ignore,” I say with a waggle of my eyebrows.

Penny holds up a hand, and we smack palms.

She clears her throat. “But seriously, I do think he’s making a big play for you. And I’m impressed. But don’t tell Nicole I’ve become head cheerleader or she’ll have my neck.” She scans the shop like Nicole might be listening, picking up a pair of brown leather pumps and searching underneath them. “Just making sure she didn’t bug this shop.”

I crack up. “Nicole knows what happened. I did invite both of you here today. She’s on deadline, though, writing a column about how to deal with bizarre sexual proposals, so she’s occupied thinking up tips for turning down pegging, toe-sucking, or hot sauce fetishes.”

An eyebrow rises. “Hot sauce fetish? Is that a thing?”

I nod. “There’s a fetish for everything. However, Nicole still managed to berate me for a full minute.” I shudder as I recall the full weight of Nicole’s vexation. I’d texted her, and moments later she called and shouted “You can’t be serious?” over the line. Even when I gave her the CliffNotes, she warned me to be careful. Then she made me tell her all about my date with Trevor and proceeded to remind me why he’s a great catch.

“He is a great catch. I’ve no doubt about that,” I’d told her.

“And he said he had a wonderful time with you, so please keep him on the front burner.”

“I will,” I promised before she jumped off to bang out more words.

But now the question on the front burner in my mind is how to do drinks with Tyler. I meet Penny’s eyes as I drop the tissue from the right shoe into the box. “Can you give me some advice?”

“Anything.”

“How do I know if I can trust him again? It’s only drinks, but what should I be on the lookout for? I feel like understanding men has eluded me in the last few years. My dating experience is woeful. But you’re back with Gabriel. How were you able to let go of the past?”

Penny sighs. “We didn’t have the sort of past you guys did. But even so, the way I put it behind us was to learn who he is today. What made him tick. How he was the same. How he was different. When you see Tyler, don’t just get caught up in a swirl of reminiscence. Learn about the man he’s become. See if that man is someone you want to spend time with.”

That feels way more intense than I’m ready for. I backpedal from the idea, kicking off my work flip-flops. “I’m only going out for drinks.”

Penny smirks and reins in a laugh. She holds it in so hard, it’s as if her face is about to burst.

“You don’t believe me?” I ask defensively as I slide my bare feet into the red sling-backs.

Penny erupts in laughter as the saleswoman returns with boots. “Say. That. Again,” Penny says in between gasping breaths.

“I’m only going out for drinks,” I mutter.

The rail-thin saleswoman tries to straighten out a smile, and Penny points at her. “Even Blue Suede Jane doesn’t believe it’s just drinks.”

I cock my head, eyeing one then the other. “Seriously, ladies? Both of you?”

Jane laughs sweetly and gestures to my feet as I stand up in the red heels. “Well, you are shopping for shoes. I can’t think of a bigger sign that something isn’t just drinks. A new pair of shoes means you really like a guy.”

We all let our eyes drift down to my toes. Jane gasps first, Penny clasps her hand on her mouth, and I beam at the heavenly vision before me.

The shoes are divine.

In fact, these red peep-toes are perfect for a date with a man who went to such lengths just to earn the right to drinks.



Just drinks.

Just drinks.

Just drinks.

That mantra echoes in my head as I walk to the bar, listening to a podcast on local politics. The poli-sci major in me can’t resist, and I like to be informed on the issues facing my city. But I have a harder time focusing on the words of the hosts because my heart beats faster and my skin prickles as memories fight their way to the front of my brain.