Jennifer Whatley – Love Event 1

It was finally time.

Jennifer’s heart-container of love was now full. Ready to be made real.

But the event… It was already giving me hives.

First of all, I had to wait until Saturday evening to get this one done.

And it was in the… ugh, the local dive bar.

Appropriately named “Hamfist”.

The door groaned when I pushed it open.

The place looked like it had given up years ago but hadn’t noticed. Lights the color of old urine buzzed overhead, stuttering every few seconds. The walls were smeared with fingerprints of smoke, grease, and regret.

A handful of regulars sat scattered like debris, hunched over their drinks, barely breathing, barely existing.

I envied their indifference.

…This is the kind of place Jennifer frequented?

I wasn’t much into firewater myself. Weed was more than enough to calm my nerves now and then. But it seemed like Jennifer did have the tendency to go out to bars or clubbing.

The outgoing goth type? Guess she never read the manual.

It really was a small place. No place to hide.

Yet… I saw no Jennifer.

Shit. Did something go wrong? Last time it was just me and Jennifer at the store. This time it was a bunch of sad losers with no beauty in sight.

Unless she was in the bathroom?

Damn, can’t really go check there.

But I couldn’t keep standing around like this. Someone who wasn’t a regular was really starting to stand out like a sore thumb.

I sighed, dragged myself to the counter, and dropped onto a stool. The vinyl split under me, yellow foam poking through. The only other guy nearby was already halfway gone, his forehead seconds from the rim of his glass.

The bartender, gruff and unsmiling, looked me over like I was one more problem in his evening.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, his tone flat with annoyance.

“Beer,” I muttered, too cornered to come up with anything else.

He didn’t bother asking what kind. Just yanked a handle, filled a glass with something amber and anonymous, and slid it across the counter. Transaction over.

I drank. Not fast, not slow. Just enough to look occupied.

Fifteen minutes slipped past, the pint only half gone, my reflection wobbling in the foam.

Then the door creaked again.

I glanced up.

It was her.

Jennifer moved through the haze of the bar like she owned a different gravity. Dark clothes, heavy boots, eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass. Her hair caught what little light the room gave, gleaming black with hints of violet. A spiked choker clung to her throat like a warning sign.

She carried herself loose, careless, like she had already measured the room and found it unworthy.

She didn’t see me. Of course she didn’t.

Jennifer slid onto the stool beside mine. She set down her bag, drummed her fingers on the counter, and gave the bartender a look that said she was here often enough not to need words.

She looked annoyed. Bothered. More than usual.

Like she really needed the shot of medicine her bartender was about to prescribe to her.

It was only after the drink was in front of her, a clear liquid of some kind, that she cared enough to check her surroundings.

First she looked past me… but soon returned for a double-take.

Her eyes lit up, and a smile crept on her sculpted face.

Almost like seeing a sad sack like me had suddenly lifted up her mood. That was a brand new sensation for me.

“Well, well. Mr. Eggs.”

I half-smiled back awkwardly at my new nickname and nodded.

Oh fuck. Was it my turn to speak?

Did the app expect me to finally say something so cool and charismatic that I’d capture this gothic doll’s heart? Surely not?

Or… Was it better if I just stayed quiet?

While I pondered that, it seemed that I had already made my choice.

“This is about the last place I thought I’d see someone like you,” she continued, swirling the drink in her hand. “Honestly, I got the vibe you go out only once per month. The kind who only leaves the house when the fridge is empty and the hunger pains get unbearable.”

She… wasn’t wrong.

“That… or you’ve stopped visiting my store.” Her lips curled into a sly grin. “You’re not cheating on me with that trashy K-Mart down the street, are you?” She gave my arm a playful shove.

Flirting. She was flirting again.

With me.

Say something cool. Something clever. Don’t screw this up.

“Uh, yeah, but it was a mistake. That place had… crabs.”

Her eyes narrowed. No laugh. Just a long, flat stare.

My forehead prickled with sweat. “You know, crabs, like… in the freezer section. For sale. And your store doesn’t really have—”

“We do have crabs,” she cut in, dead serious. “Crab cakes. Bottom shelf, freezer aisle. Haven’t you looked?”

My stomach dropped. The joke was dead on arrival, and now I was fumbling in the corpse. “I—well—maybe I missed them, I’m sorry—”

Her poker face cracked, and she burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink.

“Relax, man! Jesus. I’ve never met anyone more wound up in my life. I got your dumb joke. It wasn’t even that bad. But your delivery?” She held up two fingers. “One, maybe two out of ten. You need to grow some confidence.”

“Oh, right,” I said, trying to laugh along a bit.

This woman was so out of my league. I kept forgetting that I was here because of the app, and it felt like this magical meeting could break apart any moment now.

She eyed me for a moment, before reaching a conclusion of some kind.

“Alright, mr. Eggs. Let’s hear it.”

“Hear… what?”

“Your name, dumbass. Unless you prefer being called mr. Eggs?”

Oh boy. This was it.

I couldn’t be anonymous any longer. She’d find out all she could about me.

Hell, she might even appear behind my doorstep if she was secretly crazy or something.

…Would that be so bad, though?

Apparently, I once again pondered the question too long.

She rolled her eyes and let out a long, exaggerated grunt. “Ugh. Fine.”

Then she shifted on the stool, straightening her back like she was trying out a different personality. Hands rested neatly on her knees, a mock-polished smile plastered on her face.

“Hi! I’m Jennifer! And you are…?” Her voice shot up, high and singsong, dripping with mock enthusiasm.

She was performing—making fun of the whole ridiculous ritual of introductions, as if she were above it, above every social rule, every expectation the world tried to shove down people’s throats.

But… I’d have to play along.

It was the normal, social thing to do.

There was no way of getting out of this one.

Only real way to push this relationship further.

Unless…

Well, I could, technically…

Try out the limits of the app?

I still didn’t know if it was even possible the “fail” these events. And what would even happen if I did so?

Did I need to play along the “script” that the app was clearly handing me, or did I have wiggle-room?

It was something I had been thinking since the last event.

If I did everything the way the app expected me to do, wasn’t I just a controlled puppet myself?

Even though it pained me, I decided I had to find out. And better do it sooner than later.

The mock-smile was slowly vanishing from her face, as she was getting frustrated waiting for me to divulge my name.

I took a deep breath.

“None… of your business,” I said, with more confidence than I thought my voice could handle.

Jennifer was speechless.

This was clearly not how she had planned on things going.

My hands were so sweaty now. I could barely grip my glass.

My phone didn’t buzz, which I took as a good sign.

No sudden notifications of “Event failed!” or something, I guess.

But something had shifted. Jennifer wasn’t continuing, she just stared at me, not sure what the fuck kind of game I was playing.

Her eyes narrowed, and they were scoping me with more furious intensity then they ever had before.

The pressure got to me. I quickly finished the last of my drink, got up and left the bar.

I didn’t even look back, but I’m sure Jennifer’s eyes were burning a hole into the back of my head.

Once I was a few blocks away from the joint, I finally checked my phone.

LOVE 1 EVENT COMPLETED!

Jennifer is completely enthralled by your mystery. She will spend a lot more time thinking about you.

Alright, I was almost sure of it now.

I could take these events in different directions as well.

Thereby training the woman… in whatever way I wanted?

And so far…

I wasn’t even sure if it was possible to fail an event.