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Off-Kilter

Becca’s Margaritas were starting to catch up with her. How many had she had? No idea. All she knew was that she was starting to feel off-kilter, as if the world around her was moving too slow and she kept accelerating.

She put her head in her hands and groaned. “Where’s Jameson?”

“I dunno. Hey, do you want the rest of your fajitas, babe?”

“No.” Becca watched in disgust as Paul shoved a whole fajita into his mouth. What did Sassy even see in this guy? Other than the fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous – for a Neanderthal.

Just then Prandi and Jameson walked back in, both of them laughing at a private joke. Becca watched them: the one dark and petite, with shining eyes, the other tall and lanky, with a crooked smile. Despite herself, she couldn’t help noticing what a good-looking couple they made.

Jameson looked up then, as if he felt her eyes on him. For a moment their gaze held. Then Becca’s stomach lurched, the countless Margaritas threatening to come back. She sprinted towards the rest room with a sob.

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