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"YES!" Miles McBride, a teammate of Quentin's on the Knicks, rose to his sock-covered feet as the running back on the NFL team he was rooting for caught the ball and the cheers from the audience blasted on Quentin's living room flatscreen. Quentin shook his head and sipped his Corona as his friend continued to celebrate by yelling in between him shoving chips and dip into his mouth.
"You know your team is only up by a few points, right? You're not winning this game." Quentin spoke with a cocky smile as he reclined on his sofa. Miles turned to look down at him, "We still have a whole half to play."
"You mean a whole half to lose," Quentin muttered and he lifted the glass bottle to his lips once more. The game went to commercial just as a dainty knock on his apartment door emitted from the hallway.
Quentin paused and turned his head toward the sound Miles sat back down, grabbed a tortilla chip, and began to scoop some queso onto it, "You expecting someone?"
"Nah. Hold on," Quentin replaced the half-full bottle on a coaster before standing to open it. Two women, one Indian with shoulder-length wavy hair and one Latina with green eyes and light brown hair stood in the hallway, their conversation stopping once he had closed the door behind him.
Quentin raised one eyebrow at the two of them, "Um, can I help you?"
"Yes!" The Indian woman chirped, "I'm Miya and this is Lena, do you have a second to talk to us?"
"I'm not interested in buyin' nothing. Y'all have a good day though," He wrapped one hand around the doorknob and was about to go inside when the taller Indian woman spread both hands, "Wait! We're not salespeople. Just thirty seconds, okay?"
Quentin glanced back inside to ensure the TV was still on commercial then stepped further into the hall, his arms now crossed in curiosity, "What's up?"
"You were stuck on an elevator with our friend, Anjali, a couple of days ago right?" Yesenia inquired.
"Yeah, last week..." Quentin trailed off, "Why?"
"Well, she told us that you asked her out." Lena continued and Quentin spoke, "I mean yeah but she has a boyfriend."
Samiya's eyes bugged out of her head, "She told you that? She's single."
"She had another guy's name on her necklace," Quentin pointed out but Miya waved him off, "Mateo? No, he's-."
"What he is isn't exactly our business to tell," Lena interrupted and sent Miya a sharp look. Through the door, Quentin could hear the NFL announcers and he uncrossed his arms, "Look, ion know what this is about but I'm kinda busy so-."
"I'm gonna cut to the chase then. We need you to go on a date with our friend." Miya said in a matter-of-fact tone, "She's single, very pretty, and has her own place just down the hall."
Quentin's mood shifted from confused to amused and leaned against the door, "Does she know that you're here trying to auction off a date with her?"
"Yeah," Miya replied, "Of course."
Quentin paused for a moment as he glanced back and forth between the two friends, "I can't tell if y'all are bad friends to her or good friends."
"There is one thing. She has a-." Lena began when Miya coughed a little and elbowed her in the ribs, "She has a peanut allergy. This is her favorite restaurant and their phone number for a reservation," Miya passed Quentin a sticky note.
He passed the object an apprehensive look, "Are you sure that she's okay with all this? Because this all seems weird as hell."
"Yeah, it is," Lena conceded, "Well, at least a little but she's been heartbroken over my brother and she's finally ready to come out of it. I know you don't know us or her really but I promise when you get to know Anjali, you'll be glad that you did."
Her tone was sincere despite the queerness of the situation and Quentin did want to get to know Anjali, especially if she was single, as her friends were suggesting.
Miles jeered loudly from inside Quentin's apartment and Miya spoke once more, "We won't bother you anymore. If you decide to do it, she's gonna be there at 8 pm sharp Thursday night. Just... Think about it?"
Then the two women turned and strode back down the hall, conversing quietly amongst themselves. Quentin went back inside his apartment and then plopped back down on the sofa.
"What was that about?" Miles inquired, his eyes still on the tv.
"Um," Quentin snickered, "You know that woman I got caught in the elevator with?"
"Hmm," Miles hummed.
"Her friends just asked me out for her." Quentin lightly shook the sticky note to catch his friend's attention. Miles took the note from him with the hand not covered in tortilla dust, "I've taken Ana here a couple of times. You going?"
"I don't know," Quentin answered, "Like I asked her before and she said no because she had a boyfriend, but now her friends are telling me she lied... Ion know. Shit is weird, I don't have time for weirdos. The way they put it just now... I don't wanna be someone's dating test dummy."
"Maybe you should," Miles suggested and Quentin narrowed his eyes in preparation for what he was going to say.
"You need a test dummy too." Quentin scoffed at Miles' statement, "No, I don't."
"You haven't given anyone a chance in a year," He pointed out.
"Because I've been focused on our team." Miles rolled his eyes at that and Quentin balled his tongue in his mouth for a moment, "You really think I should?"
"Life is short," Miles shrugged, "Shit happens."
Quentin peered down at the note, now placed on the coffee table in front of them, before snatching it off of the wood, "True. Fuck it."
"Exactly," Miles emphasized as he lifted his beer and then held it aloft, "What's the worst that could happen?"
Quentin mentally weighed out the possibilities of going out with an attractive stranger and then clinked the top of his beer with Miles at the lack of them.
