“Samantha, I’d like you to meet Tracey.”

“Tracey, this is my best friend, Samantha.”

And so began another Saturday night in the friendship of Samantha Oliver and Levina Thomas. Levina had been Samantha’s best friend since they were thirteen years old. For the past four months, though, Levina had made it her sole duty to find Samantha a girlfriend despite Samantha’s consistent begging to be left alone to wallow in her misery.

Samantha thought back to them moment four months earlier, when her girlfriend of three years came home from work and told her she was leaving—her only vague attempt at an explanation being that she hadn’t been happy in a while, and needed to move on. Samantha felt totally blindsided. She’d thought the extremely passionate love they made the night before was an incredible indication after all this time of how well they were doing together and how happy they must be.

Vivian gave her no time to get the answers she needed as she rushed around the house filling a suitcase with her belongings, completely avoiding eye contact with Samantha. In what seemed like both the quickest and yet agonizingly longest ten minutes of her life, Vivian was gone, saying she’d be back when Samantha was at work to get the rest of her things. She’d left Samantha sitting on their bed, her heart on the floor, with an ocean full of questions churning through her head.

She knew Levina meant well. She’d taken it as her personal obligation to get Samantha’s mind off Vivian and on to someone new. Someone who could make her laugh, buy her a drink, and fuck her brains out, seemed to be the only criteria necessary.

Samantha had spent those few months shaking hands with random women, all the while comparing them to Vivian. None were pretty enough, smart enough, or dressed well enough to even make her want to leave the comfort of her barstool, where she sat weekend after weekend, drowning her sorrows in her beer, listening to Levina point out women she should talk to, or take home. Samantha knew her friend meant well and was just trying to help, in the only way she knew how. Levina was, by choice, perpetually single and always on the hunt for her next good time.

This particular Saturday night was no different from the rest—Levina scanning the bar for possible prey after Samantha had obviously decided in mere seconds that Tracey wasn’t up to par.

“You know, you’re going to have to start being less picky. It’s not as if this place is crawling with super models, for Christ’s sake. You gotta take what you can get.”

“Gee, Lev, that sounds so appealing. Take what I can get? From the looks of this place, I think I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself. I think I see a possible orgasm in my future.” Levina winked at Samantha as she grabbed her beer and sauntered over to a thin blonde at the corner of the bar. Deciding it was time to go, Samantha took a long swig of her beer, letting the subtle bitterness of its flavor linger in her mouth before slowly sliding down her throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a new face quickly approaching the now empty space beside her. Samantha turned toward the bar to avoid any unwanted conversation, and took another long sip of her beer.

“Looks like you could use another one, sweet stuff,” alleged the voice of this new face.

“Excuse me?” countered Samantha, barely turning her head toward the voice.

Leaning in so she was just inches from Samantha’s face, she smirked as she repeated, “I said, looks like you could use a beer. But now, I’m thinking that maybe it’s not a beer you need, but something else, something stronger.” She said this last word with such sultry confidence that Samantha actually felt herself flinch.

Trying to conjure up her own confident composure, Samantha picked up her beer, took the last swallow, and turned fully toward her adversary. “I don’t need anything. Especially from you.” With that, she flipped her long red hair over her shoulder, put her empty beer on the bar, and walked off to find Levina so they could get the hell out of there.

Weaving her way through the crowd to find her friend, Samantha couldn’t stop thinking about how cocky and arrogant that woman was. How dare she try to imply that she knows anything about me, especially what I might need? The nerve!

Halfway through the crowded dance floor, Levina took her arm, swept Samantha, and twirled her to face her grinning best friend. “Who was that I saw you talking to? She’s hot!”

“First of all, I wasn’t talking to her. I was trying to get away from her. Secondly, she has to be the most arrogant and pompous woman I’ve ever met! Can we go now?”

“No way! We’re actually starting to make progress here! That’s the first real, emotional response to meeting someone you’ve had in months! Normally, I can’t even get you to look up over your beer while you say hello. This woman actually made you get off your stool and move through the bar. We’re going back to talk to her again!”

“No we’re not! I had enough of her in the thirty seconds that she graced me with her presence. There’s nothing in me that wants to talk to her again. I’m ready to leave now, please.”

“Ugh! You’re impossible! Fine, we’ll go, after one more drink.” Levina didn’t wait for an answer. She pulled Samantha by the arm back up to the bar. “Hey, Nikki,” she called to the bartender. “Two beers.”

As the bartender put the drinks down in front of them, a throaty voice invaded from behind.

“Those are on me, Nikki. Put ‘em on my tab.”

Before Samantha could utter her rebuttal, Levina swung around with a gleam in her eye and said, “Well, thank you, stranger. To what do we owe this friendly gesture?”

Never taking her eyes off Samantha, she answered, “I can’t stand to see a pretty girl dry.” She took an assertive sip of her drink. “You ladies have a good night,” she added, then slowly strode to the other end of the bar.

“Oh, my God!” Levina bubbled, “She was totally flirting with you! You should go for her! She could be just what you need right now!”

Samantha rolled her eyes and glared at her best friend, wondering how they could be so close when they were so completely different. “Not in a million years, Levina. Not in a million years.”