Happily, the now-engaged Brandy had asked Colleen for advice from the start. Should I go out with him again tomorrow? Is it okay to sleep with him yet? How about if I text him right now?
The answers: No, no and no.
“Colleen,” said the bride-to-be now, “I just wanted to thank you again for everything.” She bent down and gave Coll a hug. “Bridesmaid?”
“Of course!” Colleen said. “You two...mazel tov! I’m so happy for you!”
“Thanks, Coll,” Ted said. “You’re the best.”
“My fifteenth couple,” she said to the Holland sisters as the happy couple left for some monkey sex, one presumed.
“You have a gift,” Faith said, taking a slab of nachos onto her plate.
“And yet just last night, there was some poor woman in here, begging the guy she was with not to dump her, and I took her aside and said, ‘Honey, if you have to beg, do you really want this loser?’ But of course, she kept crying and begging, and it was agony, I tell you.” She finished her drink, one of the strawberry thingies Faith had passed on. “Maybe I should teach a class. Pru, when Abby starts dating, you send her to me.”
“Will do. And thanks, because God knows, she’s not listening to me these days.”
“Excuse me,” came a voice, and all three of them looked up.
“Hey, Paulie,” Colleen said. “How are you? Have a seat!”
Paulina “Paulie” Petrosinsky pulled up a chair, swung it backward and straddled it. She’d been Faith and Colleen’s classmate—not quite a friend back in the day, but really nice. She came into O’Rourke’s once in a while, usually after a workout at the gym, where her weight lifting skills were the stuff of legend.
“Um...I overheard you say something about, uh, teaching people? Women?” she asked.
“Slut University,” Pru said, and Faith and Honor snorted.
“Very funny,” Colleen said. “My reputation is greatly exaggerated.”
“And whose fault is that?” Faith asked. “You should stop spreading rumors about yourself.”
Colleen smiled. Had she in fact written something flattering about herself on the men’s room wall just last week? She had. “Ignore my so-called friends,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Um...can you really help a, um, a person? With, uh...you know. Love and men and stuff?” Paulie’s face turned deep red, then purple.
“Are you all right?” Honor asked, frowning a little.
“Oh, that. My face. It’s called idiopathic craniofacial erythema. I...I blush. A lot.”
“Wish I could hang around,” Prudence said. “We farm people have to get up early. Good luck with your man, Paulie! See you, girls!”
“So are you interested in someone in particular?” Colleen asked, scootching over into Pru’s vacated chair to make more room at the table.
Paulie swallowed. “Yeah,” she whispered, glancing around.
“Who?” Faith asked.
“Um...I’d rather not say.”
Colleen nodded. “What do you like about him?”
“He’s...he’s just so nice. I mean, really kind, right? And he’s cheerful and good and smart, I think, too. I mean, he...well. He’s great.”
Colleen smiled. “And do you feel sick when you see him, and then hot, and then nauseous?”
“Exactly,” Paulie said, her face purpling again.
“Do you imagine conversations with him, holding hands and moonlit walks and all that other mushy stuff?”
“I—yes. I do.” Paulie took a shaky breath.
“Does he make your danger zone tingly? Does your skin get hot, do your knees wobble, does your tongue feel swollen—”
Faith stood up. “I miss Levi,” she announced. She gave Colleen a kiss on the cheek and squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “Good luck, Paulie! Take Colleen with a grain of salt.”
“I’m going, too,” Honor said. “Bye, matchmaker. Do no harm, mind you. See you, Paulina.”
“So who is this guy?” Colleen asked when they were gone.
Paulie shot a nervous glance back to the bar. Aha! A hint. “You know what?” Paulie said. “Never mind. He’s...he’s out of my league.”
“No, he’s not!” Colleen cried. “Paulie, you’re so nice! You are! Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Besides, Colleen always felt a little guilty where Paulie was concerned.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“It’s true,” Colleen said firmly. Granted, Paulie hadn’t been blessed with great beauty. And her dad was a little odd—Ronnie Petrosinsky, owner of four small restaurants called Chicken King that served fried chicken thirty-eight different ways, all of them very, very bad for you. He was locally famous for his commercials, where he pranced around dressed as a rooster wearing a crown. Poor Paulie was also featured in a fluffy yellow chick suit, wearing a crown—the Chicken Princess. Try getting out from under that title, especially in high school.
“Listen, Paulie. No one is out of your league. Go ahead, tell me.”
Paulina sighed gustily and drained her Genesee (first order of business: get her to drink something more feminine). “It’s Bryce Campbell.”
Oh. Okay, so that might be tough.
Bryce was gorgeous. Jake Gyllenhaal DEFCON 4–gorgeous. He got his share of tail, as Colleen knew all too well. Bryce was a regular. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but sweet. He had a certain charm, and women threw themselves at him all the time.
Lots of women.
“That’s fine,” Colleen said, realizing she hadn’t spoken for a moment. “Not a problem.”
Paulie gave her a despairing look.
“I’m serious. We can work with this. So, tell me more about you and Bryce.”
Paulie’s expression grew dreamy, the severe blush fading. “He volunteers at the animal shelter, you know?” Colleen nodded; Bryce had in fact helped her choose Rufus the Doofus. “And the animals, they all love him. I go in a lot. I, um...I’ve adopted two dogs and four cats in the past year.”
Colleen smiled. “That’s a lot. But go on.”
“And the other day, I was getting gas, and so was he, and I didn’t even plan that! He just smiled at me and said, ‘Hey, Paulie, how’s it going?’” She sighed at the memory of the magical words. “It was amazing. I mean, that smile, right?”
Yes. Bryce had a beautiful smile. That was true.
“He’s never in a bad mood,” Paulie went on. “Never has a bad thing to say about anyone. Not that I talk to him. Not much, anyway. But sometimes we lift weights at the same time, and...well, I try to talk to him. But my mind goes blank, and I never think of anything good to say. But last week? I had to walk past him, and I said ‘Excuse me,’ and he said, and I quote, ‘No problem.’ Colleen, he smelled so good.”
The woman had it bad.
“And when we were in high school, he never made fun of me.”
Colleen’s heart gave a squeeze. Paulie had a solid, athletic build and held the school record for the number of push-ups, beating even Jeremy Lyon, football god, a record that stood to this day. Her father’s business didn’t