Dating Roulette

by D. Kelly

  Bex motions for me to sit as she stirs her coffee. The waitress who delivered my note to Bex the other day brings me a cup of coffee.

  The waitress pulls out her order pad. “Ready for those chocolate chip pancakes now?”

  “Yes, please,” Bex answers, and I also give the waitress an agreeing nod. When she leaves the table, Bex looks up at me. “You look tired,” she says wearily.

  “So do you.”

  “Always so quick to point out my flaws,” she counters with a slight grin.

  “Just calling ’em like I see ’em.”

  “Tristan, I should explain.” She pauses and takes a deep breath.

  “No, don’t. I rushed to judgment when I had no right. We’re not exclusive, and you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just . . . overprotective when it comes to you.”

  Our pancakes arrive quickly, delivered by Rudy himself. “For my favorite lovebirds on one of my favorite days. The two of you give me hope for the future. Your breakfast is on the house this morning.” He tilts his head up to the ceiling after putting our plates down. “Happy Birthday, Mary. Thanks for the sign.”

  Bex opens her mouth to argue, and I give her a slight shake of the head. “Thank you, Rudy, and Happy Birthday, Mary.”

  “Happy Birthday, Mary,” Bex adds, and Rudy remains smiling as he walks away.

  We eat mostly in silence, and it’s the most uncomfortable situation I’ve ever been in with her.

  “Bex, why did you submit your resume for the CFO job yesterday?” I ask.

  “Going there already?” She reaches down for her purse and then stands.

  “You’re just walking out on me?”

  She leans down and kisses the top of my head. Her apricot fragrance wraps around me. “You know what they say about leaving them wanting more? Show up for our date, and I’ll answer you.”

  “What date?”

  “You’ll see. Finish your coffee, Tris. It will all become clear.”

  Once Bex exits the diner, our waitress brings me a notebook. “The two of you are so sweet, always leaving each other love notes.”

  When I open it, there is a letter tucked into the book with a note that says, “read me first.”

  Dear Tristan,

  The past few days have been an awakening. Not necessarily a pleasant one, at times, but I think a much-needed one all the same.

  The first thing I want to address is your broken promise. We agreed to seven dates. In fact, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who insisted on all seven being completed.

  Due to the circumstances, I’m giving you a pass. This breakfast was officially date seven. Maybe it wasn’t the best date on record, but we were both here, we had a meal, and exchanged a few words (I’m only leaving these papers if this actually happened). Consider your obligation fulfilled.

  In your dating notes, you mentioned wanting to know why our dates went from being focused on me to being focused on you. It’s no secret I’ve been on a lot of dates. When you proposed dating me and allowing me to choose what I wanted to do, I felt special. Your attention to detail is astounding, and you seemed genuinely happy when I was happy. I wanted to know what that felt like.

  Addictive, that’s what. All the ridiculous and sappy things my mom told me over the years finally made sense. How she would say making my dad a plate or a drink would bring her joy. Or letting him watch his favorite show while she sat next to him and read a book. I could understand it in such a broader context because making you happy brings me joy, Tristan. You’ve been making women happy in your relationships for years. It’s probably why you’re so good at the details, but this was my first try and hopefully not my last.

  Ten years ago, we became best friends, and I hope that never changes. Now we need to discuss the elephant in the room—Finn. Believe it or not, I think under different circumstances you and he could have been friends. In our lifetime, there are going to be more Finns and more Marias. They’ll look different and have different names, but undoubtedly, there will be people in our lives who will find us attractive. They’ll flirt and encroach on our space because not everyone respects boundaries.

  The good part about it is that we don’t have to let them upset our balance. Our bond is stronger than a fleeting attraction. Even while drunk, you were the only one I talked about. We’re solid—at least I hope we are. You have to let go of the past. Your parents’ history can’t define our future. You can’t let it dictate if you believe in someone or not. And I have to abide by the same rules. I can’t keep comparing everything to the rare and incredible bond my parents have. It isn’t fair to me, and it’s not fair to anyone I may have a future with. Dating roulette is officially over.

  I’m going to try and date like a normal person from here on out. No expectations, no automatic strikes against anyone, and no more trial period with rules on intimacy or anything else. It’s time I grow up and become deserving of my soul mate.

  However, since you are the last contestant of dating roulette, it’s imperative I ask you a question. You’re the person who has made it the farthest, and I’d be honored if you’d like to go on another date with me tonight. We can call it date eight or a new beginning, as long as you answer the following question correctly.

  My best friend, Tristan Xavier Jacobs, is the most important person in my life. If you’re going to date me, you have to accept him. Is that something you can do?

  If the answer to this question is yes, please come to our/my apartment this evening at seven p.m. sharp. I’ll be wearing your favorite dress, and you should wear whatever makes you happy. Fair warning: the theme this evening is romance. If this isn’t the direction you want our relationship to go in, please text me to decline the invitation. But if you want this as much as I do, please come home. I miss you, Tris.

  All my love,

  Bexley

  Once I finish her letter, I flip through page after page of her dating notes. These are not at all what I expected, but they’re everything I could’ve hoped for. I’m not sure why it surprises me. Bexley is nothing short of amazing. I was a fool for leaving and for worrying about Finn. Her love for me shines through on each page. It’s time to make this right once and for all.

  After smoothing down the skirt of Tristan’s favorite dress, I slip on my heels. He hasn’t texted me, but I’m still worried he may not come tonight. I waited in the parking lot for about fifteen minutes before pulling away. He never came out, and I hope that means he was busy reading my words to him.

  Our breakfast was awkward and uncomfortable. It wasn’t the seventh date I’d had in mind for us, but in a way, I think it was fitting. My dating habits were out of control, and Tristan should’ve never been a part of the vicious cycle. I was so concerned about finding perfection that I never realized it was staring me in the face the entire time. Tristan should’ve been the exception to the rule, and in a way, he was, but I hope after tonight, he will be for sure.

  The two of us royally screwed things up, but losing Tristan even for a short period made me realize how lucky I am to have him in my world. If things had gone differently at Rudy’s, I had another version of the letter to give him. One that put emphasis on our friendship and let him off the hook for any romantic future. I went there prepared for either outcome, but my emotions got the best of me when I went to my car—I cried tears of joy that we might still have a chance.

  The timer on the oven dings, and I hurry into the kitchen to take the lasagna out. It’s one of the few things I make well from scratch, and it’s also Tristan’s favorite. I’ve already made a salad, and I have some garlic rolls in the warmer. It’s nearly seven, and I check my phone for the millionth time. Still no text. I hope that means he’s coming. He wouldn’t wait till the last possible second, would he?

  I’m a nervous wreck, pacing around the kitchen. At five after, I’m about to pop open a bottle of wine. Maybe he isn’t coming after all.

  I’m so consumed by my thoughts I jump wh
en the doorbell rings. It better not be Adam.

  I look out the peephole to find Tristan, and when I open the door, he flashes me a heartwarming smile.

  I motion for him to come inside. “Why are you ringing the doorbell? This is your apartment too . . . isn’t it?”

  He’s carrying a vase full of tulips and has a bottle of wine precariously tucked under his arm. He leans in and kisses me on the cheek. He looks edible in his slacks, button-up shirt, and tie.

  “These are for you.” Tris passes me the flowers and pulls the wine free for a more secure hold.

  “Thank you.” I look at him expectantly, waiting for his answer.

  “It’s our apartment, but I would like to talk about that later. I rang the bell so we could start this date off on the right foot. A proper greeting at the beginning of a date sets a good first impression.”

  Butterflies take flight deep in my stomach. “Is that the direction we’re going in? First-date territory?”

  “Are you always so excitable on a date?” He flashes me a grin that shows off his sexy dimple. All right, he can tease me . . . for now.

  After making room for the flowers on our entry table, we make our way into the kitchen. He goes to work opening the wine while I plate our dinners.

  He sniffs the air and inhales deeply. “This looks and smells incredible, Bex. You must have cooked all day.”

  “It’s fine; I wanted to. Now can you answer my question?” My answers are abrupt, but he takes them in stride.

  He pulls out my chair as if we’re in a restaurant and kisses the top of my head. “You’re always so impatient.”

  “Can you blame me? The past few days have been rough.”

  “For me too. You were right; we focused too much on the dates and not enough on what matters. I want to change that.”

  The wine he brought is incredible, and when I hum my appreciation, his eyes light up. Damn, I’ve missed him. “How do we change it?”

  “For starters, we communicate. How about we eat and then move this conversation into the living room?”

  “Okay.” It’s a guarantee he’s not going to eat and run. He devours his food quickly, and I’m eager to serve him seconds. “Have you been eating?”

  “Hotel food for the most part. It’s been decent but nothing like this. Thank you for cooking.”

  Between the wine and the smoldering gaze he’s giving me, I’m a bit flushed. “You’re welcome.” I push my plate away, completely stuffed, and I nurse my wine while he finishes. “Thank you for reading my notes and for coming tonight. I wasn’t sure . . . well, it doesn’t matter because you’re here.”

  He wipes his mouth and carries our plates to the sink. Tristan grabs the bottle of wine and his glass, and I follow his lead. Once we’re settled on the couch together, my butterflies are back. They’re a combination of nerves and excitement.

  “When I left, I was in a dark place. Leaving was good for me because it gave me time to think. One of the things I’m worried about is living together and dating.” He follows his confession with a gulp of wine.

  I’m shocked. “Why?”

  Tristan reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “It seems to me the dating experience is important to you. I want you to have space and also be able to get excited about seeing your boyfriend. Have the ability to prepare for dates without me in your space.”

  He is so overthinking this. “We lived apart in college, Tris. I’ve been there and done that. Not long-term with someone but enough to know what I’d be missing or not. We’ve lived together for almost five years now, and I’m happy.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Were you happy the past few days?” I ask. He hesitates and then shakes his head. “Me either. I was more miserable than I’ve ever been. I’m not above begging you to stay. I didn’t realize it was possible to miss someone as much as I missed you. The lack of communication killed me. We’ve been apart before, but we’ve never lost communication.” I put my wine on the table, and he tucks me into his side.

  “I’m sorry, Bex.”

  “Me too. I want this with you. I know what my life feels like with you and without you. With you, is so much better.”

  He traces my lips with his fingers and looks down at me. “Angel, why did you send your resume to my office?”

  “Kiss me, and I’ll tell you.”

  He lowers his mouth to mine, and I wrap my arm around his neck. I part my lips and sigh into his mouth as our kiss intensifies. We take our time, exploring each other with careful precision.

  Tristan pulls back, and I exhale softly. I need him now more than ever.

  “Why, Bex?” he asks.

  “On Thursday, I was freaking out. The first place I went was to your office. I walked through and saw everyone hard at work on the games. Something clicked; I saw everything in a new light. Your employees are happy, Tris, and your office flows in a way most people are never fortunate enough to experience in their workplace. Then I got upstairs to the murals.”

  “You and those murals.” A grin kicks up at the corner of his mouth.

  “They’re my favorite because each one of them comes from here.” I place my hand over his heart and feel the rapid thudding of his heartbeat. “You create worlds in your mind where people lose themselves. In a way, your office is like that too. You want the best for everyone, and you take care of your people.”

  I reach for my wine, needing a sip before continuing. “I like my job, and I love the building and its perks.”

  “I’m just another numbers geek there. My boss only knows my name because I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am. I’m one of the few who goes above and beyond, which is why he asked me to show Finn around—I’m dependable.” I pause to gauge his reaction to my mentioning Finn so soon. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem bothered. “With your company, I’d feel a part of something greater. But also, it would give me greater purpose because I would be building something for someone I love. While you were gone, I felt lost. I don’t know if this is going to work between us or not, but if I’m losing you, if you’re moving out, I need to be able to recoup my time with you. What better way than to help you continue building something great?”

  He takes my glass away and puts it next to his. “Did you just admit you love me?”

  My cheeks heat. “Yes. I know you saw it in my notes this morning but are too gentlemanly to bring it up. It’s all I’ve wanted to tell you since you left, but you deserve so much more than for me to say it during an argument.”

  “Disagreement,” he corrects.

  I kick off my shoes and hike up my skirt so I can straddle him. Once I’m settled in his lap, I cup his cheeks in my hands and lay my heart on the line. “I love you, Tristan. I’ve loved you for ten years, but over the past few months, my heart opened wider for you. I’m not sure I understood it, but it’s why I seized the opportunity to flirt with you the night of your pizza delivery incident.”

  “I think I understand.” He runs his hands through my hair, and I sigh contentedly.

  “Do you? I’m in this pretty deep, Mr. Jacobs. Especially after the uncertainty of the past few days. I may easily become a stage-five clinger.”

  Tris pulls me close and pecks me on the lips. “Will you still go to scary amusement parks with me?”

  “If you’ll protect me and buy me a funnel cake.”

  “Would you leave me if I wore tasseled loafers?” His eyes sparkle mischievously.

  “Never, but I might make fun of you and take you shopping to point out a more appropriate footwear choice.”

  “Will you still work for me if I admit I love you, too?”

  My breath catches as my heart skips a beat. “Until the end of time.”

  “Do you think we’re moving too fast?”

  Our eyes lock, and I shake my head. “I think this has been the slowest coupling in history. Everyone else saw what we were too afraid to admit to ourselves.”

  “Did
you wear my favorite dress because you love me?”

  As I slip my fingers through his curls, I shake my head again as I lower my lips to his ear. “I wore your favorite dress because I want you to peel it off me before you fuck me.”

  He groans, and I feel his hardness beneath me. “Your room or mine?” His hands wrap around my ass as he stands, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

  “Yours. We need to make new memories in there because that’s where I slept while you were gone. You are back, Tris, right?”

  He stops next to his bed, and I slide down every hard plane of his body before my feet hit the ground. “I’m never leaving you again. In fact, I might just put your desk in my office, and we can share.”

  “We’d never get any work done. Wait . . . does that mean I have the job?”

  Tris runs his thumb over my tiny developing wrinkle. “Was there ever a question? Even if I was angry, I’m not stupid. You’re the best thing for my company, Bex, and for me.”

  “Does your insurance cover plastic surgery? You’re giving me a complex about this wrinkle.”

  He throws back his head and laughs. “Fuck, you’re adorable, and for the record, so is this wrinkle.” His lips brush over my problem area, and my heart melts. “This tiny little spot on your head is one of my favorite parts of you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s your thinking crease. When you’re considering something important or trying to work out something in your head, it appears. Almost like your brain is working so hard it needs a little more space. It gives me insight into what is important to you. Don’t ever change it.”

  “Hmm, we’ll see.”

  “You’re perfect just as you are. I can’t wait to one day see the crow’s feet that will appear here.” His fingers trace along the sides of my eye. “Or the laugh lines that will embed themselves here.” He moves them down along the side of my nose and mouth. “Other men might see them as imperfections but not me. I’m going to see them as a life well lived.”