WP

Y/N should have known a blind date set up by her friends was a bad idea. She just didn’t think it would be this bad. The guy is attractive, technically. He’s also been talking about himself for the last forty minutes, asked her what she “brings to the table,” and somehow worked his crypto portfolio into the conversation three separate times. So, yeah. She’s leaving. She waits until he gets distracted, grabs her purse, and makes a very quiet exit through the hotel lobby. Unfortunately, she makes it exactly as far as the elevator. The doors open. She steps inside. Then looks up. Seven men are already there. She knows those faces. Oh. Oh no. For a few painfully long seconds, nobody says anything. Then one of them glances at her, then toward the lobby, where her date is still looking around for her. “You running from someone?” Y/N exhales. “Unfortunately.” The elevator doors close. Someone laughs. And just like that, the worst blind date of Y/N’s life becomes the strangest night of it. She figures she’ll never see them again. She’s wrong. Very, very wrong.