But I don't know how to flirt

Megan shook her head. "And then along came this guy," she said. "And he made you blush as soon as you saw him, and got you so flustered you just about threw him out of your office... and then he sat with me all morning and I realized he was not only just as laid back and easy going as he seemed, but he was also at least a little interested in you. And by then I was pretty sure he was the kind of fellow who would take all the trouble you were likely to put him through and like it, too."

Megan shrugged. "So sure, it's been a while for me and I could have scooped him up and indulged in a few evenings of physical release for the sake of physical release," she said. "But really, that would have made me just about the worst friend ever. So I gave him a few encouraging nudges in your direction and asked if he'd be interested in joining us for lunch, instead. And the rest, as they say, is to be determined."

I stared at her. "You know, you're a great friend," I told her. It was the only part I could really respond to. The reminder that I still had to go out with Hans later tonight had broken through my post-catharsis calm and I could feel myself winding up again.

"You have no idea," Megan said with a laugh. Then she seemed to notice my rising nerves. "What's wrong, Abby?"

My eyes widened in slowly resuming horror. "I have no idea what I'm going to do tonight," I said.

But Megan just scoffed. "Well, that's easy. He asked you out to talk about work, so just talk about work. It's not really a date, so there's no pressure, right? But he's definitely into you, so if you feel up to it you can throw in some flirting and know it'll be appreciated."

I swallowed. "But I don't know how to flirt," I said.

Megan snorted. "Oh, pish." She said. "Just do like you were at lunch and you'll be fine."

"...what?" I asked.

Megan snickered. "Sweetie, the way you kept blushing and chewing or sucking your straw while making eyes at him was downright explicit."

My jaw dropped a little. "Oh," I said. Was that why he'd kept watching me? Oh, God. Oh God. "But I was just doing that to keep my mouth too busy to blurt out anything stupid!" I blurted.

Megan laughed at me. "Well," she said, "if you end up deciding to bring him back to your place after dinner, but you've exhausted your topics of conversation..." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I'm sure Hans won't mind if you want to keep your mouth too busy to say anything stupid," she teased.

I yelped in indignation and shoved her. Megan caught me and flopped back on my bed, laughing. I fell over with her, and after a moment I started laughing, too. It was a pretty preposterous mental image. I could just see myself kneeling down in my living room and pulling down imaginary Hans' pants while he just tilted his head and heaved a sigh of boredom. Now, sure, if imaginary me were Megan instead... Real me stopped laughing and started blushing.

After a moment, Megan's laughter died down too. She smiled and tousled my hair. Then she caught my hand and rolled out of bed. "Come on," she said. "Let's get you made up, and then I'll skedaddle before your gentleman caller arrives." She gave me a sly smile over her shoulder. "Just remember to call me, after. It's my turn to tease all the intimate details out of you, and I have to say, I am really looking forward to seeing how badly you blush when recounting the tale."

I don't really know what to do with makeup, but Megan does. She sat me down at the kitchen table, and then bemoaned the fact that most of the things in her purse were wrong for my skin tone or complexion or whatever. But when she was done attacking my face she'd still wrought something of a transformation.

I studied myself in Megan's compact mirror. My lips seemed fuller, and pinker, and a little glossy. My lashes were way longer than I remembered them ever being. I couldn't even put my finger on what else she'd done, but I had to admit it looked good. I wouldn't be gracing the covers of any magazines, but I might have fit in on a photo lineup at, say, page twenty seven or so.

"Wow," I said. I closed the compact and gave it back to Megan. "You are a miracle worker," I told her.

Megan scoffed and put the compact in her purse. "You don't give yourself enough credit for being cute," she said. "Tomorrow after work we're going to stop at my place and I'll give you a real makeover. You'll sizzle so hard that when we get to the club everyone who looks at you is going to burn up with either desire or jealousy."

"Uh," I said. The last time Megan had insisted on making me 'sizzle' before a party had been in college. The night of the infamous wingman-fail nuclear landmine incident.

Megan grinned. "Trust me," she said. "Now, what do you do if you don't know what to say?" she asked, and I knew she was asking me about tonight, reminding me of what we'd discussed while she'd done my makeup.

"Talk about work," I answered.

Megan nodded. "And if you start to feel panicked?"

I fidgeted. "Excuse myself to the bathroom and call you for moral support," I said.

"Good. And if he gets fresh?"

We hadn't really discussed that. "Uh... stab him with a fork?" I guessed.

Megan's grin split into a smile and she laughed. "That's my girl," she said. She stood and gave me a hug. "You'll do fine."

I laughed shakily. I was nowhere near convinced, but I appreciated the vote of confidence nonetheless. I even hugged back.

Then Megan collected her purse and started to head out. I got up and followed her to the door. "Don't forget to call me after," she reminded me, and I collected another hug before she left. Maybe it's silly, but I waited in my doorway until she'd driven out of sight before I went back in. Then, because I'm me, I locked the door behind myself.

That left me with half an hour before Hans was supposed to show up.

I wanted to just grab a book and wait in the parking lot... but that didn't seem like it would be appropriate, and it was already getting dark. So instead I crouched by the window and pushed the curtain back just enough to peer out. But then I thought it might be weird and a little creepy if Hans pulled up and noticed one eye in the window, staring out and waiting for him. So after a few more minutes I stopped and started pacing instead.

I can burn a lot of time and nervous energy with pacing. Unfortunately, that doesn't really make me less nervous. The back and forth motion seems to encourage back and forth thoughts, and that'll wind anyone up. But I am a little less spastic if I haven't been forcing myself to sit still, and it does help me lose track of time.