My eyes fluttered opened to my own bed, my own satin pajamas, and the familiar sound of traffic and sirens outside my window; I was home. A relieved smile filled my face as I committed to pushing Romeo, Juliet, and William Shakespeare out of my mind. It had all been bits of dreams, not reality.

I let the vivid dreams fade to memories as the water of my shower washed over me. By the time I was stepping into my office, it was just a regular Monday filled with meetings, emails, and coffee refills.

"Drinks?" Stina texted mid-afternoon.

"Yes!" I typed back quickly before adding, "Murphy's?"

"See you there. Glad you are feeling better!" She replied quickly.

Stina must have been worried about my ramblings over the weekend, as she rarely wanted to get a weekday drink since she and Jay heated up their romance. The thought of her relationship made me sigh. As hardened as I was to love, I still envied it. It would be nice to have someone to look forward to spending the night with each day, someone that you counted down the workday hours to see again. Against my will, my mind floated to Shakespeare and how he scoffed practicality in love. I pushed the thought away, knowing that pragmatism was best and getting swept off your feet for love was ridiculous. Besides, I had someone to look forward to seeing at the end of my day, Stina.

I arrived first at Murphy's and settled into a stool at the bar to wait for her. Unconsciously my eyes wandered the room. I found myself giggling at the reflex. I wasn't even looking for Stina; it was a single-person twitch to assess the room for a possible suitor. I sighed as I realized my singledom defined me more than I cared to admit.

"I'll buy you a drink if you share your joke," a man said as he pulled up next to me at the bar.

"My joke?"

"Yes, as you looked around, you laughed, you tell me your joke, and I'll buy you a drink."

"I can buy my own drink, thank you."

He nodded as he inspected my face. "I didn't think you couldn't, but you also didn't strike me as one to dismiss an even trade."

"Even trade? Maybe my joke is worth more than a drink," I teased.

"Mmhmm, hard to say when only one of us knows the joke."

"It wasn't really a joke," I admitted. "I just was laughing at my single-girl twitch to scan the room."

A smile broke across his face. "That joke is certainly worth at least a drink."

"Oh really, that good?"

"It was a funny observation, and now I know you're single," he winked as he slid onto the stool next to me. "My name is Harris," he added as he outstretched a hand to me.

"Hello, Harris, I'm meeting a friend."

"Meeting A Friend, interesting name; what does the A stand for?"

A laugh bubbled from my throat before I could stop it. "Who has the jokes now?"

"I can be a laugh a minute with the right audience," he smiled. "And I'm a man of my word. What would you like to drink?"

"If it sparkles, I like it."

"Sparkles, I can think of so many things that sparkle: eyes, stars...."

"Prosecco, Champagne..." I added for him.

"Mmhmm, I suppose those would be easier to obtain."

My face twisted from a gross thought.

"What?" He asked with a laugh.

"Did you just offer to procure me sparkling eyes because that sounds... well... ew."

Another chuckle crossed his crimson lips before he shot back, "looks like you already have two sparkling eyes, so why don't I get you a glass of prosecco?" He let a finger tap the freestanding menu as he spoke.

"Aren't you full of lines," I jested back.

"Full of lines," he pulled his hands to cover his heart as though he were wounded. "They're only lines if they're disingenuous, and I assure you I'm genuine."

Harris ordered two glasses of prosecco as I inspected him closer. He was handsome, but not overly so. He had brown hair that threatened to be curly if given a bit more length. His hair color was matched by chocolate eyes that appeared sleepy from his eyebrows tipping down to mirror their arch. He had an alluring scruff from the day that spilled from his square jaw down his neck.

"So, Meeting, what do you do?" His voice was even and smooth, giving off casual confidence without being obnoxious.

"Editor," I answered as my eyes continued to inspect him.

He tempered his confident tone with the fidgeting of a coaster. It was a perfect compliment of vulnerability.

"And you?" I finally added, realizing I wasn't doing my fair share to volley the conversation.

"Don't judge me too harshly, but I'm a lawyer. Only first-year though, so I mostly get coffee and highlight." He lifted his hands to reveal a smattering of yellow highlighter on a few of his fingers.

"I will try not to count it against you."

"Ah, you are a forgiving magistrate," he smiled as the bartender delivered our drinks. "To health," he offered as he lifted his glass.

"To health," I raised an eyebrow as our glasses met. I let my eyes linger on him while I sipped my drink. Once our glasses were back on the bar, I pressed, "do you always drink to health?"

"Of course, life is dependent on health."

"Fair enough," I nodded.

"What do you typically cheers to?"

"Honestly, I usually skip the fanfare."

"Huh, no salud to love, friendship, or success?"

"Not for me. I have enough of each."

His head rose and fell slowly. "Enough of each?"

"Yep, I'm pretty self-sufficient."

"And yet your single-eyes flicker around the bar; maybe your heart doesn't agree with your mind," he raised his eyebrows in jest.

"Wouldn't be the first time," I sighed.

"Hey," Stina's voice came abrasively from behind me, causing me to jolt in my seat.

"Hey, Stina," I greeted, feeling like a child that had been caught with a hand in the cookie jar by mom.

"I believe that is my cue to leave. Meeting, it was a pleasure," Harris offered as he slipped away.

"What was that, and does he have terrible grammar, or did he call you Meeting?"

"You just can't leave the English teacher at school, can you?" I teased. "He was just a guy willing to buy me a drink," I added as I picked up my prosecco and took another sip. "Besides, I would think you'd be happy to see me flirting," I said after I swallowed.

"Oh yeah, that's me, the hopeless romantic," her tone dripped with sarcasm.

"Uh-oh, trouble with Jay?"

"Jay? Who the hell is Jay?"

I almost spat out my drink as she spoke.

"Stina, not funny," I stammered.

"Not a joke," she casually said as she looked over the happy hour menu, "who is Jay?"

"Um, your live-in boyfriend."

Stina's eyes snapped up to me, and she inspected me closely. "How many drinks did that guy buy you? You know I've been with Matt since college."

My mind whirled at the name: Matt, the blandest man ever to exist. She couldn't still be with him; she dumped him just after graduation as she embarked on her search for passion. She couldn't be back with him, not overnight and not in place of Jay.