by Sara Ney
She winks at me. Gives the server her order first.
“I think I need a beer? And a burger—hold the onion, but add pickles? Cheddar cheese. Mayo on the side, some ranch dressing, and I’ll take the burger medium well.” She hands the kid the menu. “Thanks.”
So, she nixed the onions after all.
I hide a smile, stifling a chuckle and hand over my menu, too. “I’ll have the same.”
HANNAH
“I think everything you do and say is false bravado.”
“I’m sorry—what?”
He shoves a fry in his mouth. “You’re adorable and sexy and all, but you’re basically showboating because you’re a chickenshit.”
Showboating? Chickenshit? “I am not! What makes you say that?”
Another fry goes in his gullet. He chews slowly and I want to strangle him. Oh my god, hurry up and spit the words out!
Instead, he takes his sweet time, taking another fry from the basket and dipping it in ketchup. Poke, poke. “You avoid getting hurt by being funny and making fun of guys, but it’s because deep down inside you’re scared.”
In goes the fry.
“What makes you say that? We just met.”
He grins, still chewing. “I know your type.”
I roll my eyes hard, chewing my fry like a cow chewing on cud, half the end hanging out of my mouth. So classy. “My type?” I add a snort to let him know he doesn’t know shit. “And what type would that be?”
“Don’t get me wrong; I’m not judging you. I’m just going by what I already know—you don’t like putting on a show, but use it as a defense, too. Like, what are you afraid of?” Rex picks up his burger, taking a bite. Licks stray ketchup from the corner of his mouth that squished out of the bun when he bit down.
“That’s stupid. Why would I use honesty as a shield?” Give me a break, that makes no sense. “I’m online because I want a boyfriend, not so I can push guys away.”
Duh.
“Easy.” He takes a napkin from the tabletop and wipes his face, balling it up and throwing it down. “You’re way more aggressive than you have to be—you said yourself you got into an argument on your last date.” He uses air quotes around the word date, and my eyes narrow. “Why is that if you’re trying to meet someone?”
“I…” I pause and twist my lips. My mouth opens, then closes. “He…” was an asshole. A prick. A pompous windbag.
A douchebag.
Plus, he kept trying to hit on me while he was on a date with my roommate, so I was doing him a favor by being a bitch and not kicking him in the nutsack.
You’re welcome, JB, for not sacking you in the balls like you deserved.
“You know, I’m really sweet once you get to know me. And I would do anything for my good friends—anything.”
“But?” He pauses, waiting to take another bite of his food, so he can listen.
“But…it might maybe take a bit before I let you in. Not you, specifically—I meant people. A person.” Shit, I’m fidgeting with the straw in my water glass and release it so I can take a swig of my beer. Maybe that will calm my sudden case of nerves. “Someone I might want to date, I mean.”
Why do I care what this guy thinks? We’re not on a date and he’s not my type.
Like, at all.
I take in his button down shirt—a baby blue dress shirt he has untucked. Dark jeans. Preppy, light leather boat shoes.
Dorky, but cute and kind of adorable. Nerdy Sexy, I once heard someone coin the phrase when she was panting after the dorky teaching assistant in her biology class.
Nerdy is indeed the new sexy. Not that I would call Rex a nerd, exactly—he doesn’t seem like he was the studious type. Probably not a gamer, either. Just…skinny, with a goofy grin. Teeth are a bit too big for his mouth, though his lips are shaped nice. Narrower frame, nothing bulky; he might work out, but probably just runs to stay in shape.
My eyes stray to the small triangle of skin exposed in the open collar of his button down shirt, straining to detect whether or not he has hair on his chest.
I wonder what his body looks like with no clothes on…
Stop it, Hannah.
“Thanks for clarifying.” Rex lifts a fry and almost has it to his mouth before he drops his hand and asks, “Why do you suppose that is? Did something happen to you to make you so…”
“Distrustful?” I avert my gaze, staring at my cheeseburger with a rueful little laugh. “No. I’m just a spaz, that’s all.”
I like my friends, what can I say? Women make me feel comfortable and my good friends are my security blankets. What’s so wrong with that?
The fact that you can’t put yourself out there and make yourself available, that’s what’s wrong with that.
“Oh my god, would you shut up.” I say out loud, to myself, oblivious to the fact Rex is now staring at me like I’ve sprouted two horns, a tail, and whiskers.
“Excuse me?” A fry dangles from his lips.
“Um. Sorry, I was just…” Talking to myself. “I was—that wasn’t. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
Wow, I’m a bigger head case than I thought I was and now he’s going to think I’m crazy.
Excellent. Just what I need.
“You were just telling yourself to shut up.” The good news is there’s an amused expression forming on his face. Not one of disgust. “What were you doing? Having a conversation with yourself?” He’s reached across the table and nabbed my pickle; gnawing on the end of it, chewing slowly as he watches me.
“Yes, if you must know, I was having a conversation with myself.”
Rex doesn’t say anything, just nods. Pops the remainder of the pickle in his mouth.
“Hey—you said I shouldn’t eat anything stinky on a date!” I accuse, narrowing my eyes as he wipes the tips of his pickley fingers on a napkin.
He shrugs. “You said this wasn’t a date.”
Shit. He’s right, I did say that. Several times, as a matter of fact. Because I’m a judgy asshole who thought she wanted someone big and strong and burly—not someone who looks like a twenty-year-old accountant, who plans to go boating on the weekend.
But Rex has been so sweet. Polite. Funny. And that ridiculous smile, with those big, pearly teeth is sure growing on me pretty damn quickly.
“I know what I said, you don’t have to keep reminding me.” I snap a little sharply and cringe at my tone. God, I’m such a head case, I can’t believe he’s sitting here grinning at me like a fool.
He must be a glutton for punishment.
“Will you excuse me?” I start sliding out of the booth, dragging my purse along with me. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
I have to get ahold of Skylar. She’ll tell me what to do—I know Rex is supposed to be teaching me how to behave, but since this concerns him, I doubt he’d be much help. I need a girl for this problem.
“You’re not planning to crawl out the bathroom window, are you?” he jokes, adjusting his dinner plate in front of him.
“No—I’ll be back. Promise.” I stand, righting the hem of my shirt before scuttling off. I stop, spin on my heel and point in his direction. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Oh I wouldn’t dream of it,” he teases with a laugh. “You’d hunt me down and give me a piece of your mind.”
Tempted to say something sarcastic, I clamp down on my jaw, closing my lips. Smile prettily and clutch my purse. Hum in my chest and say, “Very cute. Give me a few, okay?”
“Yup.” He’s already got his face stuffed with hamburger and is well on his way to ignoring me for the food in front of him.
I locate the bathroom; it’s on the opposite side of the room and I will my feet to move there easily—not this wobbly kneed bullshit that’s happening right now for some ungodly reason.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I press a hand to my forehead checking for a fever.
Nothing.
With a hand pressed to my stomach, I shove the bathroom door o
pen and find an empty stall. Pushing through, I hang my purse on the back of the door, fishing my phone out and compose a text to Skylar hoping she’s not too busy to respond.
Me: You there?
Skylar: an entire one minute later: Yup, what’s up?
Me: I’m out with Rex Gunderson and I’m confused.
Skylar: Who???
Me: I don’t have time to explain, but it’s not a date. I mean, we matched on LoveU, but he really isn’t my type. Plus, he basically told me I wasn’t ladylike enough for him and that I needed lessons on how to date.
I’m frantically typing, heart rate pounding.
Skylar: WHAT?? When did this all happen? I’m SO CONFUSED.
Me: This week, but that’s not my point. MY POINT IS, I’m here with him at Mad Dog Jacks and now he’s not as dorky as I thought he was?
Skylar: Wow. You’re too kind to people.
Me: Would you knock it off, this is serious.
Skylar: Wait. Are you sitting there with him NOW??
Me: No, I’m in the bathroom, freaking out. Like, I can’t stay in here all night, I need help.
Skylar: Help with what?
Me: Do I say something to him? Or go out there and act like normal?
Skylar: Normal? Don’t make me laugh.
Me: Stop being a shithead, you know what I mean.
Skylar: I still don’t understand the problem?
Me: OMG Skylar, I ordered onions and pickles on my burger, then said the word fart, I’m pretty sure I insulted him a few times—pretty sure he isn’t interested.
Skylar: And all you’ve done so far is made an ass of yourself?
Me: Yes?
Skylar: So, typical Hannah?
Me: Yes?
Skylar: And he’s still out there? Like he hasn’t walked out?
Me: I’m assuming he’ll be there when I go back to the table; he was stuffing his face when I walked away.
Skylar: That’s a good sign, yeah?
Me: I don’t know; he’s a guy, they like to eat.
Skylar: So what is it about him you didn’t like in the first place?
Me: He’s skinny.
Skylar: Um… okay?
Me: I just never thought I’d want to have sex with a guy who wears a smaller size jean than I do.
Skylar: I don’t know how to reply to that. What else didn’t you like about him?
Me: I mean—his reputation wasn’t the greatest. He was the manager for the wrestling team—Abe probably knows of him—then he made a bet with another teammate about the coach’s daughter and got suspended.
Skylar: Oh, shit!
Me: Yeah. But he’s her best friend now? I think he said he was her baby’s godfather? He calls himself Funcle Rex?
Skylar: What the hell is a Funcle?
Me: A Fun Uncle.
Skylar: That’s hilarious **laughing emoji**
Me: I mean, it’s kind of cute.
Skylar: OMG knock it off. Also what are you still doing in the bathroom.
Me: Peeing.
Skylar: We’ve been texting for over eight minutes. He’s going to think you climbed out the window.
Me: Probably. Maybe I should, I was thinking out loud and told him to shut up.
Skylar: WHAT???
Me: Yeah. I’m a real class act, any guy would be LUCKY to have me **rolling eyes emoji**
Skylar: Stop putting yourself down—just because you haven’t met THE ONE doesn’t mean you have to be so hard on yourself. Any guy would be INSANELY LUCKY to have you Hannah Peterson.
Me: You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.
Skylar: Listen, sometimes you’re the worst. I mean—you’re probably wearing my underwear right now because you were too lazy to do your laundry. You eat all my food and use all my expensive shampoo. I’m NOT just going to compliment you unless I mean it cause sometimes YOU ARE THE WORST.
Me: Stop you’re making me blush.
Skylar: Now stop whining and get back in the game. Go out there and act NORMAL. No mumbling under your breath and talking to yourself while the guy is sitting there, got it?
Me: Rex is the one who’s supposed to be giving me dating advice, not you.
Skylar: Well he’s probably not because he likes you. Why would he try and help you date someone else?
Me: He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t even KNOW me.
Skylar: Then give him a chance to get to know you—and if it doesn’t work out, so what? You come home to me and cry about it later.
Me: Alright. I’ll go back out there and give him a chance.
Skylar: That’s my girl! Love you Hannah Banana
Me: Love you too Sky So Blue <3
4
Hannah
“Thanks for dinner.” We’re in the small parking lot on the side of the building, standing next to what I assume is Rex’s car. “You didn’t have to pay, considering…”
“Considering what?” he asks, waiting for me to finish my sentence. Waiting for me to tell him one more time that this wasn’t a date.
“Considering, um. Considering…” I look him over just then, standing there in his button down shirt—the one that now smells like greasy bar food, and geeky boat shoes, more appropriate for a yachting deck—and my heart does something strange.
It flutters.
Stomach, too, and not from the greasy burger.
I’d popped a mint while I was in the bathroom texting Skylar, foolishly, just in case. Just in case what Hannah? Do you think the guy is going to kiss you?
“Considering we were only here to teach me how to date. I mean, technically I should have paid, then taken the tax deduction. Ha ha.”
Did I seriously just say that? He needs to kiss me so, I’ll shut up; put me out of my damn misery, make it stop.
“You’re cute.” Rex is smiling at me, eyes soft, mouth set in a pleasant line.
He’s cute too, but I don’t have the courage to say it; not even with this beer churning in my belly.
Instead, I say, “Um,” and stare at the ground. So cliché, I should kick at a rock, stuff my hands in my pockets, and call it a night.
Rex glances around the parking lot curiously. “Hannah where’s your car?”
My car? “I don’t have one.”
“Then how’d you get here?”
“I walked.” But it had still been light out and much safer for walking around town, unescorted. Now, the sun has set and only street lights offer security.
“Oh.” Rex pauses, shifting on his heels on the gravel drive. “I can take you home.”
I’m not going to argue with a free ride or more time with him. We had fun tonight, and if I’m not mistaken, we had chemistry. I don’t think I’m the only one who felt it, even though I was humiliating myself the entire night, putting my foot in my mouth.
If I’m not mistaken, Rex likes me.
All evening, instead of being coy, or making a joke, I’m honest—like he told me to act with a guy I was on a date with.
“Sure, okay. I’d love a ride.”
My stomach flips and I place my palm on my abs, quelling my nerves. Whether it’s the alcohol or the greasy bar burger I ate—getting into Rex’s car has me in knots. Strange indeed, since I’m usually so confident.
Awkward, yes. Confident, always.
Confidence, that, according to Rex, is just false bravado and showboating.
Hmph.
The thought has me crossing my arms; warring with myself to be brave in the face of his earlier words. Words that are absolutely true, if I’m being honest with myself.
He’s right. Has been all night.
So what are you going to do about it?
I slide into his car when he unlocks the passenger side and politely opens the door for me. Walks around to the driver’s side and slides in himself. Shoots me a grin as he hits the START button on the dash—ooh la la, fancy!—the radio automatically connecting to the music on his device.
I recognize the song playing; it’s a rem
ix with a mellow backbeat, filling the cab of his sweet ride with a romantic melody. I’m sure it’s unintentional, but regardless, it makes me shiver.
“Cold?” Rex glances over at me as he puts his arm up onto the back of my seat so he can reverse the car and pull out of his spot. There’s something to be said about that gesture; a man with his big hand near the back of your head, close to your body, while operating heavy machinery.
Okay, fine—so it’s a car and not a skid loader or backhoe. But still. It’s a sexy move.