Wheels

It wasn’t supposed to be a date.
A nice guy, I had an extra ticket, so I gave my plus-one to my co-worker. He, in turn, gave it to his girlfriend’s sister. No big deal, right?
Wrong, my friend.
First, the sister is stunningly gorgeous. Second, she expects me to keep her company on the skating rink, which I do, until the mind-numbing, soul wrenching kiss. Then, because she’s almost family, I take the high road and say goodnight. Later, I find out she’s all kinds of pissed because I didn’t do what we’d both regret in the morning.
That should be the end of our story but fate’s a bitch. A few days later, I’m minding my own business, drinking with my pals, and a cell phone rings. It seems a cat jumped on a keyboard when my not-a-date was surfing the dark web. Of course, she entered her email address because, I mean, who wouldn’t?
That should’ve been my warning, but oh, no. When my pals ask me to keep her safe, I agree. In my defense, I was freshly out of a wheelchair and anxious to prove my worth. It had nothing to do with my body’s reaction to her damn pheromones.
Regardless, her mistake sucks me into a black hole of illegal drugs, gangsters, blue-haired ladies, blind dates, an ex from hell, a container full of fentanyl-laced toys… and a heartbreak so bad, I may never recover.
I don’t know who is more stubborn, me or her, but thank God our friends stage an intervention. I never thought I’d have a happily-ever-after, but hey, now it’s looking pretty good.