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53.1

CunningHam: No painting. Just a glass of wine and a conversation. Maybe a dance if it goes well.

I thought about that, and did my best to smush down the strange little glow of excitement that lit inside me when I thought about sitting with this stranger and having a glass of wine. I hadn’t been on a date in… well, a long time. Here and there, but I hadn’t given guys much thought since my college boyfriend Mason dumped me for choosing dance over him. Like there was a choice, really.

OnYourToes: Okay. I’m free tonight.

CunningHam: Perfect! Six?

OnYourToes: Fine. But I’m bringing pepper spray.

CunningHam: I don’t know what pairs with that, but we’ll figure it out. See you then.

That night I showered, put my hair up, and pulled on a pair of black leggings and a flowy tunic that I thought was flattering. After swiping on a bit of blush and mascara, I headed for the door, hoping I wasn’t making a huge mistake.

I really did keep pepper spray in my purse. You just never knew.

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