Eight missed calls

Summary

My best friend of eight years, drunk off his ass, blew up my phone with five consecutive calls in the middle of the night.

When I finally called back, he confessed his undying love for me through a series of blubbering sobs and asked if I wanted to be his girlfriend.

I said yes.

The next day, he took me out to lunch and, with a completely straight face, tried to set me up with one of his friends.

“My buddy is rich, handsome, and a little socially awkward. You two would be perfect for each other.”

I squeezed my chopsticks, a slow, cold smile spreading across my face.