The scarf was too much. Orange and reds worked great with their dark skin but the scarf had been a step too far. In their one bedroom apartment, they thought it looked regal and mature. Now, Angel felt like an investment broker going out to golf. It was too brunch-y. Completely inappropriate for speed dating. 

She had already sat down at her spot for the evening and could see what everyone else was wearing. Casual yet sexy. Evening wear for the night ahead. She and her little scarf stuck out like a sore thumb. So Angel tore the patterned thing off and stuffed it into her purse as discreetly as possible. 

After months of little dating luck preceded by years of trying to date men, Angel saw this event as a godsend. A sapphic mixer for anyone who considered themself lesbian. Even with that somewhat vague criteria, the group surrounding Angel was what they expected. 

Tons of women and they/thems with all lengths of hair and styles of clothes. It was similar to the dating pool Angel found on Hinge or Bumble, just in person and actually ready to date her. Not to chat for 3 weeks before suddenly disappearing. Or to make a friend out of a perfectly decent first date. 

This was Angel’s chance for a real relationship. They were not going to waste it. 

Some people, like Angel, got assigned to sit for the speed dating round. With dating spots set up all around the bar, she was glad hers was a table and didn’t require her to make-do with a bar stool. Those that would be rotating were lined up outside. An advantageous position if you asked her. They could socialize and chat up potential singles while Angel just watched from afar. 

And watch she did. 

Angel had noticed one woman within minutes of entering the bar and barely stopped looking at her since. Honey blond hair draped over her shoulders in glossy waves. Her makeup was light and soft apart from the bold red lipstick on her pouty mouth. She was a strange mixture of cute and sexy, striking yet soft. Almost immediately, Angel began imagining calm Friday nights with this woman. Cuddling on the couch, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. That was who Angel came here for.

Unfortunately, they wouldn’t get to talk during the speed dating round. But the after party would be Angel’s chance to spark the conversation that could change her life. The blond’s warm brown eyes flickered about the room and Angel looked away, her heart racing at the thought of being caught staring. She had to be cool. Cool people got dates.

The organizer, a tall white woman with more piercings than Angel could count, suddenly yelled into a mic.

“Ladies, not gentlemen, and all other types of people celebrating Pride Month!” Angel found herself chuckling along with the rest of the room. “Are you ready to start dating?!”

No, Angel was not. The list of first date questions they’d accumulated from hours of online searches burned a hole in their pocket. They would only have 5 minutes at a time to make a good impression and the odds of failure were way too high.

“Then let’s get mingling!”

Angel stared, chest climbing up to her throat, as the first person walked over. Straight black hair fell to their back. Dark eyeliner wrapped their eyes so smoothly, it looked like it belonged. Angel envied their makeup skills.

“I love your makeup!” she gushed before they could even sit down. 

“Thank you! I spent way too long on it.”

“What eyeliner do you use?”

Five minutes later, all Angel knew about the girl, outside of her makeup preferences, was the information listed on her name tag. In other words, her name and she/her pronouns. Angel had friendzoned herself so easily, it was hard to remember where it went wrong.

“Be flirty, not friendly,” she muttered to herself.

“Angel?” Another fem with curly brown hair hugging their pale cheeks and neck shook Angel’s hand. “My name’s Megan. Your eyes are incredible by the way.”

“Thank you.” Angel purposely batted their lashes. That must be flirty, right? Then, without thinking, they blurted, “My mom’s Ethiopian. We’re kind of known for our eyes.”

“I guess you look a lot like her then.”

“People always say I do, but I don’t see it. Wait, I can show you a picture of her.”

Megan was still being flirty. Angel was trying too. But her mom was her best friend and it felt impossible to redirect the conversation once they got here. After Megan walked away, having seen most of Angel’s immediate and extended family living in the state of Georgia, Angel wanted to punch herself.

Megan was really cute–cute enough to rival Red Lipstick Girl–and Angel had shot herself in the foot. She wasn’t sure how to lead the conversation in a more romantic direction. Every time she opened her mouth, completely unsexy things just fell out. 

Her main source of hope was the woman across the room, now laughing at something her speed dating partner was saying. Her eyes were so pretty, an intense almond shape Angel only saw in makeup catalogues. Angel imagined sitting across from that woman, being the sole focus of those almond eyes.

“Angel!”

She jumped, looking forward again and realizing someone else had sat down. Whoops.

“We have 3 minutes left,” They- (Angel glanced at their name tag) she grumbled. “Not sure if you have anything to ask me since you keep staring at blondie.”

“Wha-” Angel was choking. She was actually choking in front of her speed date. “Why do you say that?”

The woman laughed, head fully thrown back like that was the dumbest question she’d ever heard. Angel used this as a chance to properly take her in. Unlike the other black women attending, she was far from dressed up. 

Her cool brown skin was bare, shiny like she’d put on lotion and nothing else. A random stain darkened the center of her pale grey sweater and she was burrowing her face into the hoodie. The only put together thing about her was her hair, arranged into thin cornrows so fresh that they shined. 

Angel thought a preppy look made her stand out but this woman looked like she simply didn’t belong. Did she realize this was a dating event?

“You’re too easy to read,” Brit (the woman in the sweats) smiled in this condescending way. “With eyes that big, everyone can tell exactly where you’re looking and you haven’t stopped staring at blondie since we started.”

“She has a name, you know?”

“Do you? Know her name already?” Brit leaned into Angel’s space, smiling even as her words were meant to hurt. “Is that why you joined the event? To talk to the girl you already had a crush on?”

Angel was stunned. The accusation came out of left field. If she knew the blond woman before the event, she wouldn’t need to come. She would have just asked her out. But in her silence, Brit seemed to make up her mind.

“It’s funny, you look so sweet even when you’re not,” she scoffed. “Instead of wasting everyone’s time here, you should have just grown some balls and asked Lily out.”

Angel was getting heated. Even though that was their first time hearing the mystery woman’s name, they couldn’t enjoy it. Brit had struck a nerve. But Angel was no pushover. 

“I wasted everyone’s time? You’re the one who couldn’t bother to change out of your pajamas. You’re not even trying to make a connection.”

“Maybe you’re right. But at least I’m focused enough to talk to my dates instead of ignoring them for someone who’s just going to reject me.”

Angel narrowed their eyes, long nails digging into their faux leather purse. 

“If this is how you ‘talk to your dates’ it’s probably better if you just go home.”

The bell rang, signaling the end of the round. Brit took her sweet time coming to a stand. She dusted off her pants and adjusted her sweatshirt like it was a suit and tie.

“You wish, Angel.” She had the audacity to wink. Angel didn’t let her glare waver in the slightest. “But I’m not going anywhere. See you at the after party.”

A new woman sat down and Angel had to tear her eyes away from Brit’s back. What a piece of work.

—————

The tables got pushed aside, the lights were dimmed, and the music was turned on full blast. A handful of people line danced in the center while most others chatted the night away. Except for Angel. They found a comfortable corner, covered in enough shadows to make them feel invisible, and had been stewing there for–they checked their phone–20 minutes.

The dates after Brit had been a lot like the dates Angel had before Brit. Upbeat and casual. Too information dense to be considered flirty. Most of those people were absorbed in their own conversations now. Meaning, even if Angel wanted to spend their time nurturing those friendships, they couldn’t. Angel noticed one of them, that really cute girl Megan, making out with someone on the dance floor. Their lips curled with envy. 

Actually, Brit was the only person who Angel hadn’t treated like a new best friend. The two didn’t finish things off by exchanging instagrams and promising to ‘hang out sometime.’ But that was only because they hated each other so much, they would have exchanged usernames just to block each other. At this rate, thinking too long about their dating failures was bound to make Angel depressed.

Angel shuffled from one foot to the other, regretting the stilettos they picked out for the night. Sure the shoes were black and strappy and added much needed inches to their meager height of 5 '1, but the pair was designed for fashion, not comfort. 

Sighing, Angel slurped more of their pinacolada. They hoped the fruit concoction would subtly get them drunk enough to finally approach Lily. She looked prettier standing up than she did sitting. Her knee length dress clung to her figure, and Angel’s eyes traced those lines. They almost admired her figure as much as they watched Lily’s face. 

Each expression was something new for Angel to add to her imaginings. The scenes were evolving. Now they were picking out bouquets for the wedding and throw pillows to add to their couch. Angel had never had a crush develop so fast. But that’s what made Lily special.

“You’re staring again.”

“What?” Angel blinked, looking up to find Brit towering over her. The woman must have been 5‘8 or 5‘9 since, even with heels, Angel couldn’t come close to her height. They didn’t like that. They didn’t like that Brit was talking to them. Angel shot her a glare, trying to make their dislike obvious. 

“I already told you, you can’t get away with staring when you have those big, doe eyes. Everyone can see that you haven’t blinked in 10 minutes.”

“10 minutes is such an exaggeration. It was more like 2.”

Brit stared down at them, a thin brow raised in question.

“3 minutes top,” Angel allowed.

Brit was still staring and Angel bit their bottom lip. Did they lose track of time? Could they have stared longer than they realized? Heat started flooding into their cheeks.

“You know what? I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now.”

Angel side-stepped Brit, feeling some confidence return at the feeling of strutting away in their favorite heels. What did it matter if Brit was right or not? They were the one staring at Angel instead of minding their own damn business. 

“You’re talking to me because you’ve been alone all night.” 

Oof! Don’t sugarcoat too much.

Brit poked and prodded at Angel’s insecurities with the finesse of a machete. Angel tried to keep her walls up, hide what she really felt, but Brit saw through it all. She pinpointed exactly what Angel wished she wouldn’t. Each and every time. 

And to add insult to injury, Brit followed Angel with lazy steps. Angel walked as fast as they could while Brit could’ve fallen asleep and still matched Angel’s strides. Everything about her made Angel’s blood boil. 

“It’s funny, if you weren’t so focused on Blondie, you might have gotten a new date by now.”

“From you?”

“From someone else who appreciates the cute, short, nervous thing you got going on.”

Someone else. That sounded like a mistake. Like Angel wasn’t supposed to know that Brit found them attractive. Angel couldn’t help the smile that appeared on their face or the extra sway in their hips as they walked. If Brit noticed and started to stare at their ass, Angel could do nothing about it.

“I can’t speak for you but I’m the monogamous type. I only need one person to be interested in me tonight.”

Some Brazilian song with a heavy bass and tiktok appeal was bumping through the speakers. It was loud enough for Angel to miss things, like Brit muttering, “It’s a bit too late for that.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing, I just-” Brit cut herself off and Angel realized she’d stopped walking. Angel turned around and leaned against the nearest wall, patiently waiting for Brit to gather the words. “I’m not sure if you want to put all your eggs in Lily’s basket.”

Angel laughed. Just once, enough for Brit to feel as stupid as she sounded. This woman really had some audacity.

“No offence, Brit, but I don’t think we have the same taste in women.”

Brit didn’t clarify if she agreed or not, just rolled her eyes and- was that a tattoo on her neck? Angel couldn’t read the dark ink below her ear, it was mostly hidden, but it looked good on Brit. What an annoyingly sexy thing for her to have. Maybe she had more hidden under her oversized sweats.

“So my opinion means nothing to you?” Brit asked, looking confused. Angel wasn’t sure why. She spent more time insulting the shorter woman than anything else.

“After that stunt you pulled during speed dating, your opinion means less than nothing to me,” Angel smiled, pleased to see the reaction they’d pulled out of Brit. “I’m actually convinced that doing the opposite of whatever you recommend is always the best decision.”

There was a beat of silence in the loud room. Brit mirrored Angel’s position against the wall, her hands brushing against Angel’s. Braids fell out from inside her hoodie and Angel noticed wooden beads attached to the ends. It was a touch of feminine that reminded Angel of how long Brit’s lashes were, naturally curling up to her eyelids. Brit’s eyes were hooded now, looking down at Angel with a different kind of intensity than her gaze had before. Something softer and deeper.

“Ask her out then,” Brit smirked, sweeping her tongue against her bottom lip. “I actually couldn’t care less if you two ride off into the sunset.”

She’s flirting with me. We’re flirting right now. The realization made Angel’s heart race. 

Maybe that was Brit’s strategy all along: make a girl so mad that, before she realized it, the anger starts to feel like sexual attraction. Because that’s what swirled around in Angel’s gut right now–anger. That was the only reason why their eyes darted down to Brit’s full, wet lips. Nothing else.

Angel stood up on their toes, pleased when Brit leaned down so they could whisper right into her ear.

“Now that’s something I can agree with.”

Angel felt sexy as hell walking away that time. They knew their ass looked good in their skirt. And for once, they got the last word.