Disasters in Dating

by Danielle Allen

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized earnestly.

  His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “I don’t know why I thought you’d do something like that.” I shook my head. “You’ve never done or said anything that would make me believe that you would hurt me, and I’m sorry I said that and then laughed.” I frowned slightly because of the look of confusion that brushed his features. “I’m sorry, Charles.”

  Closing his eyes, his large hands scrubbed his face and then scratched at his five o’clock shadow. When he looked over at me and saw the look on my face, he reached out for me. Standing up, he pulled me to my feet and into him. He placed his hands just below my ears and locked his eyes with mine.

  I searched his gaze to see if our friendship could be salvaged. But instead, a rush of feelings flooded my system—none of which felt friendly.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he started before I could.

  “Stop, stop, stop. This is on me. I fucked up.” Staring into my eyes, he shook his head. “You’re absolutely right. This is our first time meeting… I should’ve never offered you a drink from a bottle that was already opened. I’m sorry.” He let my face go and patted his chest. “That was completely on me.”

  “Look...” I grabbed his hand from his chest. “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not.” He squeezed my hand before letting it go. “I would never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.” He squatted down to grab a couple bottles of water from the basket. “Never.”

  “I know.” My voice was a little softer than normal as I studied him. He seemed off as he pulled containers from the picnic basket. “Hey.” I reached out and touched his shoulder.

  He placed a container of potato salad on the blanket and then stood, grabbing me by the neck again. The ease in which his hands slid across the side of my face, cradling my head was effortless, as if he’d been doing it for years. He stared into my eyes, causing a slight uptick in my heart rate.

  Our faces were close, too close.

  “It feels like I’ve known you for a lot longer than I have,” he began, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. “I don’t usually do this so I didn’t even think about it. But promise me that when you meet these men from SOS or where ever else, you won’t accept anything but bottled water from them.”

  There was a fierce look of determination in his eyes that captivated me. I nodded my response.

  “Promise me,” he growled, not accepting my nonverbal answer.

  His gruff tone didn’t scare me. It created a conflicting mix of desire and surprise with a little bit of swoon thrown in.

  I felt something—and not just the desire that my physical attraction to him caused. The acknowledgment of this tug at my heart caused my voice to falter. “I promise.”

  His eyes dropped to my lips and lingered for a beat too long before snapping backup. Blinking rapidly, he dropped his hands from me and took a step backward.

  I could tell he felt what I’d felt. It was entirely too strong for him to have not felt it, too.

  “Did I ever tell you my first name?” Charles asked as he gestured for me to take a seat.

  I paused mid sit and gave him a suspicious look. “Charles…?” I said slowly.

  He shook his head and handed me a paper plate when I finally sat all the way down. “Vincent.”

  “Um… so why…?” I couldn’t even get the whole sentence out because I was so confused. “Are you married? You have a girlfriend? You’re a criminal—nope! Nevermind. Don’t answer that one.” I shook my head. “I do not want to be an accomplice. I don’t know anything. I just want some of this potato salad…to go.”

  He laughed and spooned a roasted potato, bacon, and onion potato salad onto my plate. I’d never seen potato salad made like that before so I was distracted by how delicious it looked. He placed a half of a chicken salad sandwich on my plate and the other half on his.

  I had my bottle of water in one hand and my plate in the other, and I was salivating. I put my water down, but didn’t see a fork. I considered grabbing a potato with my finger because the seasoning looked so good.

  “What kind of potato salad is this?” I looked up to find him staring at me. “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. You just looked…” He smiled. “It’s nice when you can witness someone excited about something new.”

  I felt my face warm. “Is it weird that I’m this hype about potato salad?”

  He handed me a fork and made a face. “Yes.”

  “Oh, well,” I giggled, wiggling my body as I stabbed at a potato. “So, what’s your name? And just so you know, the fact that I don’t know your name and I’m still here is one hundred percent thanks to these potatoes.”

  “Well damn! Do I get any credit? I made the potatoes!”

  I pursed my lips. “You made the potatoes, packaged them with an official label, and put them in this nice ass basket?”

  “I made potatoes before… I’m sure I could make these.” His lip twitched as he tried not to laugh. “All I’m saying is you are basically picking these potatoes over me.”

  “I don’t even know you!” I exclaimed before we both were screaming with laughter.

  “My name is Vincent.”

  “Oh, okay… I can see exactly how you get the nickname Charles from that. Cool,” I playfully ribbed him as I bit into my chicken salad sandwich. I closed my eyes for a second as the heavenly flavors came together in my mouth.

  “It’s good, huh?” His voice broke the silence, ruining my potato salad paradise.

  My eyes popped open. “I know exactly what you’re doing. You lure women in with these delicious treats and candles and your whole order-my-shirt-a-half-size-too-small-to-show-off-the-merchandise look and that smile and those eyes and that…” I had forgotten what my point was momentarily as I ran off the list of things that made him irresistible to me. Coughing, I took a sip of water. “Don’t use food to distract me from the fact that you lied about your name.”

  “I didn’t lie. Most people call me Charles. It’s my last name. When I’m at work, I’m Charles or Lieutenant Charles. When I’m at home, I’m Charles because my father is also Vincent and VJ sounds like I should be working at MTV in the nineties.”

  “Oh… okay then. I’ll believe that answer I suppose. I mean, it sounds legit. And I need a few more potatoes, so you’re off the hook.”

  He laughed. “Had I known you were going to like them so much, I would’ve gotten you a container to take home with you.”

  “A whole container, huh? Aren’t you sweet, Vincent?” I acknowledged both his real name and his faux-kindness as I bit into my sandwich again, glaring at him.

  I like to eat. Sue me.

  “I am. Now are you ready to eat?” He paused before scooping another helping of potato salad onto my plate. He smirked cunningly. “I know I am,” he said wolfishly, staring at the juncture between my thighs.

  I laughed so hard, I couldn’t breathe.

  And just like that, the moment passed and we fell back into our easy rhythm of flirtatious friendship. After what felt like a few minutes of eating, laughing, talking, and joking on and with one another, a loud steady beeping noise snatched us out of our bubble.

  “What is that?” I asked, looking around and trying to rise to my feet, but my legs felt like lead.

  “Shit,” Charles swore before climbing to his feet. He made his way to the edge of the roof. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  The change in his tone—from unbothered to alarmed, set something off in me. “What?” I scrambled to meet him on the ledge. “Who’s here?”

  “Cap is here, and he’s not supposed to be here until…” He pulled out his phone and looked at the time. His bulging eyes made me pull mine out and check for myself.

  “It’s almost eleven? How?” I asked rhetorically. I watched him as he quickly walked back to our picnic area and gathered our trash. “I’m guessing I’m not supposed to be here?”

  “It’s
not that. It’s just that I’m supposed to show Cap the building inspection. I just didn’t think he was coming until the end of his shift.”

  “Oh, no! Let me clean up. You get down there and handle business.”

  He shook his head. “No, no, no… he came early so he can wait. I’ll clean up.”

  “Vincent Charles, go down there and take care of your business.” I gestured around. “It’s blowing out a few candles and folding a blanket, not rocket science.”

  He hesitated, and I narrowed my eyes and pointed to the door.

  “Go! I got this.”

  He scrubbed his face with his hands as he thought about it, and then his cell phone started ringing.

  Dropping a kiss on my forehead, he thanked me and then jogged to the exit.

  Taking my time, I packed everything up in ten minutes. I spent fifteen minutes checking and responding to emails and text messages. When I checked my SOS account, I sighed, annoyed. The very first message was a turn off.

  To: Desiree

  From: Three’s Company

  I heard the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice. Let me and my girlfriend taste you to verify.

  “Nope,” I muttered, deleting the message and then closing the app altogether.

  I made my way down the stairway with the big basket.

  “I almost thought Charles made you up,” a big, booming voice greeted me the moment I opened the door.

  My eyes opened wide as I froze, taken by surprise. Getting over the initial shock, I pushed the door all the way open and entered the main area. A handsome, burly man with salt and pepper hair, dark brown eyes, and a wide smile stood beside Charles. He looked like an aging gangster from an Italian mobster movie: devilishly handsome, smooth, and could end you without a second thought.

  I hope I didn’t get him in trouble.

  “Hi,” I said slowly, unsure as to what was going on.

  “Everything okay?” Charles asked as he approached me, taking the basket from my hands.

  “Yeah…” I stared into his eyes, trying to ask him what was going on.

  Was my presence getting him in trouble? Did he get cursed out or reprimanded because I’m here?

  Unfortunately, we didn’t know each other well enough for him to interpret my nonverbal cues.

  “I told Cap we had a picnic on the roof and you would be down in a minute. But I just got finished showing him the inspection notes and he accused me of lying,” he answered, resting his hand on the small of my back as he brought me over to meet Cap.

  I reached my hand out to shake the older man’s hand. “Hi, I’m Desiree.”

  “Hi, Desiree… I’m Captain John Capasso. But everyone calls me Cap.” He patted the back of my right hand with his left hand.

  “Very nice to meet you, sir.”

  “You too… But let me ask you something. What are your intentions with my right-hand man?”

  “Aside from shaking your right hand, I have no other intentions sir.”

  The belly laugh that erupted from him caught me off guard because even though I was amused, I didn’t even think it was that funny. And I thought I was hilarious.

  “You’re funny and pretty. A little too pretty to be out with the likes of him.” He gestured his head toward Charles. “But you two make a good-looking couple.”

  Not sure how to respond, I tried to contain my smile. “Thank you…?”

  Charles coughed away a laugh. “Cap, it’s not—”

  “Oh!” Cap clapped his hands together before grabbing mine again. “We are having a fundraising event here at the end of the month. Charles told you about it I’m sure.”

  I didn’t look at Charles, but I could feel him looking at me. I didn’t know anything about the fundraising event.

  “The fundraising event?” I stroked my chin and pondered in an over-the-top way. In case it was important and Charles should’ve mentioned it, I didn’t want to get him in trouble. “Mm hmm....”

  “Charles never brings a date to one of these things. Hell, he never brings a woman to the firehouse at all. This is a nice change of pace… He’ll finally have someone on his arm,” Cap overshared, folding his arms over his chest.

  “I haven’t had a chance to officially ask her, Cap. You kind of showed up early and cut the night short,” Charles answered smoothly, deflecting from the new information Cap just spilled.

  “Cap, I don’t think he intended to ask me to this event,” I said, playfully bumping Charles with my hip.

  “What?” Cap scoffed, staring at Charles as if he’d lost his mind. “Are you kidding me? If you don’t ask her, I’m going to ask her myself.”

  I laughed. “I would be honored to accompany you.”

  “Wait a damn minute!” Charles laughed. “I was going to get around to asking. We were just talking about so many other things and then Cap came,” Charles explained playfully before turning to Cap. “You are cancelled as my wingman.” He shook his head. “You are blowing it.”

  “Nope, don’t blame him. You had time to ask me and you chose not to.” I crossed my arms across my chest. “So now, I have a hot date planned with this gentleman right here.”

  “Yeah, she’s already spoken for. You snooze, you lose.” Cap laughed along with me and in a stage whisper added, “Maybe if he can finish showing me the inspection of the roof, he can earn you back!”

  I nodded, stroking my chin. “I think I’ll allow it.”

  Charles grinned, slapping the older man on the back. “Hey, Cap, let me show you the roof…”

  We all howled with laughter.

  Cap had a twinkle in his eye as he looked between us. “It’s been about ten years since I’ve seen you like this…”

  Intrigued, I raised an eyebrow and gave Charles a sidelong glance.

  He looked momentarily horrified as he stared at his captain. When he looked over at me, I felt how uncomfortable he was. The tension was palpable. But as quickly as he noticed that I noticed the look on his face, it was gone. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  SOS: Frequent Flyer Miles

  Name: Miles

  Age: 33

  Relationship Status: Single

  Looking For: A Relationship

  Children: 0

  Occupation: Artist

  Bio: 6’2”

  Bilingual (English/Spanish)

  African American and Dominican

  Producer, songwriter, and street artist

  Chapter 10

  “I really like you,” Jayson whispered into the phone. “I’d like to see you again.”

  I smiled as I deleted the voicemail, but my heart wasn’t in it. After my night with Brian and Charles, I knew that Jayson and I had absolutely no chemistry. He was a nice man, but I wasn’t going to force something that wasn’t there. What I felt with Charles was organic and deep. What I felt with Brian was hot and passionate.

  Speaking of Brian…

  Desiree: I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days… Just wanted to check to see if you were okay.

  Brian: Yeah, I’m okay.

  “Funny running into you here,” Sheila cackled.

  Startled, I quickly flipped my phone so it was facedown. Looking over my shoulder at my coworker’s fake smile, I felt the lava-like heat of contempt she had for me.

  The sound of her voice grated on my nerves during work hours, but outside of the required time I had to spend with her, it was like nails on a chalkboard.

  I swallowed my mouthful of salad and wiped my lips on a napkin. “Sheila.”

  “I’m surprised you’re on this side of town, but I’m not surprised you’re eating your early bird dinner alone,” she remarked cattily.

  I sighed. “Aren’t you tired of always being behind me? Why are you always lurking?”

  “I’m not lurking. I’m waiting for my boyfriend.”

  “Then go wait somewhere else.”

  “It must be tough seeing that my life is so much richer than yours. I have someone who actually wants to be wi
th me”—she gestured to the empty seat across from me— “you come to the hottest new restaurant in town and eat alone. Pathetic! No wonder they keep giving you pity promotions. You don’t have a social life. You don’t have anything but work.”

  I rolled my eyes, not feeding into her bullshit. I didn’t have anything to prove to her. “You live a sad life,” I remarked after taking the last bite of my salad.

  With an indignant look, she said, “I’m sad? Where’s your boyfriend?”

  “Where’s your table?” I snapped, turning in my seat to glare openly at her.

  Instant hate flowed through my veins. That was low, even for her. Although we didn’t get along and she talked shit about me, I’d never heard her allude to Troy in a taunting way. Because almost all my coworkers got to know him over the ten years we were together, they generally remained supportively silent about him—almost as if he didn’t exist. But Sheila wanted to get under my skin.

  And it worked.

  Making eye contact with my waiter, I waved him over. “Listen… I get it. You’re an unhappy person. You’re struggling with work and life in general. You think that constantly coming at me is going to make you feel better about yourself. It won’t. You’re a miserable person and you will continue to be miserable because you are so worried about me and what I’m doing. I don’t give a shit about you. But because you’re miserable, you are obsessed with me. Take that energy and get yourself a personality and a fucking clue. Instead of worrying about me, you really need to worry about yourself.”

  “I’m not worried about you,” Sheila huffed, folding her arms over her chest. “My boyfriend is here anyway.”

  “Okay?” I replied in a mocking tone, before turning my attention to the approaching waiter. I smiled at him. “Hi, could I have my check please? And this woman needs to find a table. She’s hovering around mine for some reason.”

  The waiter turned to look at Sheila. She hesitated for only a second before she made a noise in the back of her throat, turned on her heel, and stormed off. Smiling, I thanked the waiter and then gave him a twenty-dollar bill to cover the salad and tip.