How to Lose a Niall in Ten Days

Quoting Philosophical Speakers

1. Don't quote Dr. Phil or anyone else that is associated with therapy sessions.

"So you're agreeing to this? You get him to dump you in ten days." Adriana said.

"I shook my hand on it, didn't I?" I asked sarcastically. Any extra time spent in their presence was unneeded and actually painful. I had already said that I would win this bet to get the promotion. Tax season was coming up soon and while I would just love to spend my weekend slaving over clients' taxes, I would prefer to be in charge of more pretentious things.

This doesn't mean that I was pretentious, but I certainly was not the person to want to spend hours reading the new tax codes that Congress constantly updated.

Grace scoffed before flicking her fake blonde hair over her shoulder. "Well you have ten days, might as well start now. The only guys you could probably pick up would have to be drunk off their mind."

Well that would have been offensive if I actually cared about their opinion. It would also have mattered to me if the person who said it didn't quote John 3:16 on Sundays yet sprout out every cuss word possible on Monday

I shrugged my shoulder before turning away from them and heading over to the bartender. "Gin and ton, please."

He looked at me and smiled. "You seem like more of a cranberry vodka kind of gal but okay, coming right up."

I rolled my eyes at his somewhat machinist statement. Not all women liked to drink those fruity alcoholic beverages. I could actually hold my liquor.

I looked around at all the possible victims to come while the bartender was mixing my drink. The only promising men were the group of guys who seemed to be having a bachelor party. The groomsmen were always drunk but the possibility of me getting forced to go to a wedding with any of them was scary. Plus they were all celebrating their buddy getting married, commitment was obviously something they didn't mind.

I needed a guy who would run away at the first signs of commitment.

The more the manwhore of a guy, the easier these days would go by.

"Here ya go miss. I put it on those ladies' tab." The bartender said while placing my drink down.

"Which ladies?"

He smiled and quirked his head over to my co-workers who were trying to siddle up next to what seemed like a lawyer. "Them. I assumed they're the reason you needed a drink. Plus they act more posh than my grandmother and she's a Kennedy."

I leaned my head back. "A Kennedy? I suppose she does have a reason to act that way then."

"I suppose." He shrugged. "But she doesn't have any autographs so I don't let her ego get to me."

I took my drink and tilted it to him as if to clink my glass against the one he was washing. "That's the way to go. Don't let it get to you until you can see it."

The bartender in front of me smiled and set the glass down after drying it. "That's how I've been living my life the past twenty-five years. Now as much as I would love to continue talking about the famous relatives of mine, I can see that there is a guy whose been staring at you for the past minute."

"Is he part of the wedding party?"

"Nope. He's the one whose sitting up in the booth in the back. Keeps laughing at the stupid music that the DJ is playing."

Sitting in a booth and knowing the DJ? That seemed like a high-class bachelor. Perfect.

I stood up and thanked the bartender for my drink before starting to walk off to "bump" into this bachelor.