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until they no longer sounded the way they should.
    I had spent Friday night with Megan, Amanda, and some of the regulars at one of the nicer clubs we frequented.  It had been a crazy, stressful week, and I was looking forward to unwinding, but Amanda and Megan had insisted I only have a few drinks; I didn’t want to be hung over for my date, did I?
    Having found it impossible to relax in anyway, I had left the party early and was in bed by midnight.  It seemed I was making a habit of this.  Both Megan and Amanda had been great about not telling anyone about my date, which they both thought was a much bigger deal than I did.  They didn’t want to tell anyone because they were afraid I would be hated by the entire female population of the city; I didn’t want to tell anyone because I wasn’t sure about him at all.
    The next morning, the day of the big date, my doorbell rang before I had even opened my eyes.  I groaned and checked my phone, eight thirty.  Stumbling sleepily down the hall, I pressed the buzzer and went to the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker.  I had just managed to pull down the mugs when there were two soft thuds on the door.  Amanda, I thought.  Megan always banged incessantly with both her fists.  Amanda had a more courteous elegance about her, despite being as insanely excited about today as Megan was.
    “Here, take these,” Amanda said as she walked through the door, handing me a stack of dresses in plastic sleeves.
    “Good morning to you too,” I said, closing the door behind her and throwing the dresses on a nearby chair.  “I didn’t realize you were coming this early.”
    Amanda ignored me and poured coffee into the mugs I had set out, adding a drop of cream in mine and taking hers black.  She dug around in my cabinets and refrigerator for a few minutes before bringing out a small platter of fruit and pastries that I forgot I had to go along with our coffee.
    “I wasn’t planning on coming over this early,” she said, “but I ended up staying somewhere closer to the store than I thought, so I slipped in this morning.”
    I raised my eyebrows at the mention of staying somewhere else, which I knew was most likely her ex-boyfriend’s place, which lead to a relatively long discussion on the pros and cons of their on-again, off-again relationship.  I was grateful to be talking about something other than Grayson Hunter.
    “So anyway,” she said as she wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin, “I have a couple really great things for you to try, and then we’re meeting Megan for brunch.”
    “Do I have to go?” I asked.
    Amanda looked startled.
    “Well no, I guess not. We could just see if she wants to come here or—” she started.
    “No, I mean,” I interrupted, “on the date.  Do I have to go on the date tonight?”
    The expression on her face was one of confused concern.  Then her usually cool gaze warmed and she finally smiled sympathetically.
    “Why don’t you want to go?” she asked.
    “It’s not that I don’t get that he’s a catch,” I said. “He just seems so different from every other guy I’ve dated recently.  He seems more real, I guess. He even said during my interview that he was looking to settle down soon.  That’s not me, so is that really fair to him?  Is it fair to me to even go on a date with someone who could have anyone they want and could find someone better for them?”
    I realized that I was just exploding verbally, and what I was saying probably made very little sense, but Amanda kept her understanding smile.  She sat in the armchair nearest the window, her knees under her chin, and listened, her hair wrapped in a fishtail braid over her right shoulder.  When I was finished, she just nodded and pursed her lips.
    “I think you should go,” she began.  I rolled my eyes and she held up a finger to hush me. “But not because he is famous, or he’s rich, or because Megan and I want you to.  I know you, Grace, and even if