The Two-Night One-Night Stand

by Ryan Ringbloom

  “I’m Holly.” I’m sure he already knows my name, but I give the proper introduction anyway. “I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.” Hazel eyes behind a pair of dark-rimmed glasses lock on to mine, searching. I wait for him to say something, he doesn’t, so I keep talking. “Blind dates, yikes, right?” I make a strained face for emphasis; his stare stays expressionless. “I know your sister told me, but my mind is blank. What do you do in real life for a living?”

  He turns his head toward the guys he had been standing with, and his hand runs uneasily through his tousled brown hair. “In real life?” He turns back to face me. “I don’t understand.”

  “In real life, like obviously you’re not a doctor, that’s just your costume.” I swipe a hand down over my slutty attire and laugh. “Just like I’m not a real nurse. So, what do you do?”

  “I-I,” he stammers and again glances back at his friends. “No, I’m not a doctor.”

  Oh, God. This is bad. He doesn’t want to be here. Either that or he can already tell in this thirty-second interaction that I’m not his type. My stomach drops with a tinge of disappointment. I’m gonna let him off the hook and then I’m gonna kill Jayne.

  “Listen, Nick, it’s okay if you’re not interested. You have no obligation to stay here. Your sister just thought we’d hit it off and she’s my friend and she kind of pressed the issue so I said yes. She probably did the same thing to you. Fix ups are the worst, I totally get it. We can just tell her we tried, it was fun, but not a match.” I reach down and tug at the zipper of my costume, trying desperately to yank it up for some coverage. I feel like an ass. I knew I wasn’t ready to jump back into the dating world, although if I was ready, this guy would have certainly been fun to jump on… I mean with.

  “Can you excuse me for two seconds?” He hitches his thumb toward his friends. “I just need to talk to, um, someone real quick.” He stands from the table, straightening up to at least six foot two. “Don’t leave. Stay here. I just, I”—more stammers—“I’ll be right back.”

  My buzz mellows as I watch him walk away. First he keeps me waiting and now he’s already walking away, and I have no idea if he is really going to come back or not. What should I do? Salvage the last shred of my dignity and make a quick exit, or wait here at the slight chance he means it when he says he’ll be right back?

  He peeks back over his shoulder and runs a nervous hand through his thick hair again. A grin that makes my heart do a tumble tugs at the corners of his full, sexy lips. And I know my answer.

  Dignity, it’s gonna be a long night.

  PATRICK AND KENT stand eagerly at the bar, waiting to hear what I have to say.

  “She thinks I’m someone else. Some guy named Nick,” I inform them. “She thinks I’m a blind date set up by her friend.”

  “Why does she think you’re him?” Patrick asks.

  “I’m gathering from what she said that he’s supposed to be dressed up as a doctor. She saw my scrubs and must have assumed I was him.”

  Kent chuckles. “Well, it looks like he didn’t show up. His loss is your gain.”

  “No, I can’t do that. I gotta tell her I’m not the guy she’s been waiting for.” I glance back at the table. Do I really have to tell her? The girl is gorgeous. Her bubbly voice is intoxicating and the soft curves of her body are enough to make me want to legally change my name to Nick.

  Patrick nudges me and nods. I follow his eyes across the bar to a short guy in a white lab coat with an old-fashioned reflector strapped around his head. “Free breast exams!” he bellows to the crowd around him. Without permission, he reaches out and squeezes the breast of a nearby witch.

  She playfully swats him away with her broom but her face shows her genuine disgust at what he’s just done. “Cut it out, Nick,” she squeals.

  “You think that’s the right guy?” Patrick raises his brows.

  The real guy is an asshole. Bad news for her, good news for me. But then how do I play this? Tell her the truth and hope she still picks hanging with me over Dr. Douche? I don’t like to rush decisions, but I don’t have the luxury of taking my time to figure out what I should do. I look to my older brothers for an answer.

  “Get your ass back over there!” Kent hollers, punching my bicep and causing me to stumble.

  Patrick confirms the sentiment but in a much kinder way. “Go, you’ll be doing her a favor keeping that guy away from her. And who knows, you might just hit it off.”

  My heart rate accelerates as a wave of nerves come crashing to the surface. I have a ton more questions to ask them but I’ve got to move fast before her real date finds his way over to her. An opportunity like this is one I can’t afford to blow. I fill my lungs with the stale bar air. “Wish me luck,” I say over my shoulder before making my way back over to the beautiful clueless girl I just met.

  ’Cause I am certainly going to need it.

  THE TWO FRIENDS he’s with seem a lot older than he is. My leg twitches nervously under the table as I chance a glance in his direction, still waiting to see if he’s actually going to come back. I grab a lip gloss from my purse and let my brown hair drop forward to inconspicuously reapply a fresh coat. Butterflies take flight in my stomach when I look back up and see him walking toward the table. I cram the tube in my purse and sit up tall, a freshly glossed smile on my lips to welcome him.

  “Do you want to maybe, go somewhere else? Somewhere less loud and crazy?” he asks, taking me by surprise. According to Jayne, meeting at this bar was his idea. It’s his favorite place. But I personally can’t stand crowded places like this, never mind the fact that tonight it’s packed wall to wall with zombies, vampires, and girls in slutty costumes. I adjust the bows on my thigh highs, tugging them up. Glass houses, Holly.

  “I would love to go somewhere else. I’ve been here for two hours.”

  “Two hours?” His face falls. “You’ve been waiting here two hours?”

  “Uh, yeah, Jayne said you wanted to meet at seven.” He looks down at his watch and frowns. By now I know it has to be close to nine thirty. “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m just sorry that you waited here for so long. I didn’t know….” He trails off, looking down at his feet.

  His apology makes me blush. “I’m sure Jayne just messed up the time, or maybe I did.” It was possible; my brain had been scattered ever since accepting a new position with LazerShark. The one bright spot in my life lately was landing my dream job doing social media for a renowned company with A-list clientele.

  The sound of a bottle shattering causes both of our heads to snap toward the bar. A girl in a French maid costume squeals and lifts a bloody finger up to her trembling lips.

  “Oh shit, I think she needs stitches!” a mummy clutching two bottles of beer exclaims. The girl continues to suck her finger. Her shoulders bob in dramatic sobs.

  “Excuse me for a minute.” My pretend-doctor date squeezes his way through the crowd to the injured maid. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but whatever it is, he convinces her to show him her wound. He lifts her finger and inspects it before digging his hand into his chest pocket. My nose crinkles in disbelief as he tears open a small packet and appears to disinfect her bleeding finger, then wraps it up in a Band-Aid. A smile creeps back onto her mascara filled face. She reaches her arms up to give my heroic date a hug. Weird. Very weird.

  “You bring actual props with you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him when he returns. “That’s some Halloween costume.”

  “It was just a Band-Aid. Most people carry Band-Aids with them. Don’t they?”

  “No. Not really. And how do you know she doesn’t need stitches?”

  “It was just a small cut.” He shrugs.

  “But what was that packet thing? Why do you have that?”

  He breathes out a chuckle, ignoring my question, and places his arm behind my back. “Shall we?”

  It’s probably still the effects of the alcohol, but my spine tingles from his touch making me quick
ly forget about the mystery packet and the injured maid.

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  I don’t know where we’re going but I do know I’m sure excited to get there.

  I KEEP AN eye on Dr. Douche until we make it safely outside. Lucky for me, he is still busy looking for unsuspecting patients and not his date.

  The balminess of the crowded bar makes the chilly night air seem all the more cold. Holly’s arms cross over her chest and tiny goose bumps pucker the skin of her exposed arms. Luck is once again on my side, because my car is parked right out front. I slip out my keys, press down on the button, and the alarm chirps, unlocking the doors. I grab my coat off the passenger seat to offer the chilly nurse.

  “Here.” I open the coat up to her. Her small cold frame wriggles into my large warm coat, and it swallows her up. “Are you hungry?” I ask, hoping she’ll say yes. There’s an Italian restaurant within walking distance and I would love some one-on-one time tucked away in a quiet little booth getting to know her. Plus, after a hectic day I could definitely use some sustenance in my empty stomach.

  “I could eat,” she says. “There’s this great little pizza place right around the corner from here,”

  “Romeo’s,” we both say at the same time.

  “You know it?” I ask.

  “I know it well. I go there all the time.” She beams. Is it possible I’ve seen her there before? No. Her pretty face is definitely one I’d remember. “They have the best Marsala pizza. Have you tried it?”

  I hate mushrooms, but I lie and tell her, “Yes. I love the Marsala pizza.” An incredible smile lifts her glossy pink lips and she moves in closer as we start to walk toward the restaurant. Definitely worth the small fib.

  We reach the quaint little Italian place, I swing the glass door open and hold it for her. As she breezes past me, I breathe in the delicate scent of vanilla. Here’s hoping that some of that sweet scent seeps its way into the wool of my coat.

  “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure about being set up, but now I’m kinda glad your sister talked us into this.”

  I gulp at the reminder still weighing this chance encounter down. Now that we’re out of the craziness of the packed bar, I need to tell her. Right now. Tell her how this has all been a misunderstanding. Maybe she’ll even laugh. Or maybe there’s a chance she won’t? Regardless, I can’t go on letting her think I’m someone else. I open my mouth and shut it without uttering a word. Dammit, what if I tell her and she leaves?

  Psst, Matty, you hear me? An incoming telepathic message. Dude, you can’t risk it. You know that as well as I do.

  Uh-oh. I shake my head, disregarding the little voice coming from below my waist. Holly and I step up to the glass-enclosed counter. She orders a slice of Marsala pizza; of course I’m obligated to order it as well. Now I’m stuck eating mushrooms. Proof that lying is not the way to go. All the more reason to tell her now and get it over with.

  She’s wearing thigh highs and I know you saw those tits spilling right out of her tight little dress. Don’t even pretend you’re not aching to tear that uniform off of her and do nasty things. It’s been a loooooong time, Matty.

  Not that long. I give in, going against my better judgment, and acknowledge the voice.

  Seventeen months, six days, eleven hours, and forty-three minutes.

  Really? Has it been that long? Fuck. That really is a long time.

  Yes, it is. Listen to me, Matty. You cannot tell her.

  It’s getting hard to ignore my outspoken dick and his valid points as to why I should keep up this charade. But I need to. I shake my head and tune out the inner voice of my horny peen. I’m not that kind of guy. Time to rip off this sticky Band-Aid and just tell her.

  We take a booth in the back corner and Holly shimmies out of my coat.

  Boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Peen sounds the alarm.

  I ignore Peen. My eyes drop down to the front of her uniform. Boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Shit, no I don’t.

  “Are you okay?” Holly startles me out of my twisted battle with the conscienceless wonder in my pants. I drag my eyes away from her cleavage and back up to her blushing face. “This costume is ridiculous, isn’t it?” She drops her head, toying with the zipper, trying to bring it up. “I shouldn’t have gone for such a stupid costume. I mean, you didn’t. You’re wearing actual scrubs. I should have done that. This probably looks awful.”

  “No, it looks great.” I respond just a little too fast and try to recover. “Lots of nurses have big, um….” My attempt at recovering fails miserably. Words to finish the sentence fly through my head; they’re all wrong and now the unfinished sentence just lingers between us, causing an awkward silence. I think I hear Peen laugh at me. This is his fault. I blame him for hoarding most of the blood supply, leaving my brain depleted. Thankfully, two plates of hot, mushroomy pizza are placed before us. I flick off a few mushrooms and cram the slice into my mouth, hoping a little nourishment will help me get my head on straight. “So, what do you do for a living?” I ask, switching topics.

  Her cell phone vibrates on the table. She reaches for it and frowns. “This is actually my boss right now. Do you mind if I step outside and take this?”

  “Go right ahead.” I stand up from the booth when she does; it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, but comes across a little corny. She sweeps the hair from her face and giggles at my chivalry. I hold my breath but can’t help but smile watching her as she walks to the front door and holds it open for the customer on their way in. I’m midexhale until I realize who the customer is. My mouth drops as my sister-in-law Robin enters and spots me. She waves her hand, coming toward me. Oh shit.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be out with Kent and Patrick?” she asks, and looks down at my plate. “Are those mushrooms?”

  “Change of plans,” I answer her in a hurried voice, staring at the door. “I’m out with a girl but I’m not Matthew and I don’t know you.”

  “Huh?” She looks over her shoulder, scanning the pizza place. “What is this? What’s going on? Is this some weird joke?”

  “No.”

  “Matthew, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I keep my eyes on the window for any signs of Holly. I don’t want to have to explain who Robin is. Not before telling Holly the actual truth. “Please, just….” I motion with my head for my sweet sister-in-law, who I am surely confusing the shit out of, to walk away. “I’ll explain tomorrow, I swear,” I whisper through clenched teeth.

  Robin shrugs, rolls her eyes, and walks away mumbling. I owe her one heck of an explanation and apology. And I will give them to her, just not right now.

  I sink back in my seat. Christ that was close. My nerves are shot. Perhaps I was wrong suggesting we leave the bar, because right now a drink would certainly hit the spot.

  Holly returns a few minutes later, after Robin has thankfully picked up her pizza and left. “I hope you’re okay with this.” She slides a bottle of wine out from a brown paper bag. “I ran in to the liquor store next door. I know this place has a BYOB policy. They’ll uncork it for us and bring out some glasses if we just ask. What do you think?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Incredible. She damn near just read my mind. This girl keeps getting better and better. Wine is perfect. Just what I need. I’ll have a glass, loosen up, and then I can tell her about the little costume mix-up. I just need to find the right time.

  JAYNE’S BROTHER DRAINS his glass of wine. His broad shoulders finally relax, along with the rest of him. I knew it was just nerves and nothing a glass or two of wine wouldn’t fix. Fix-ups are never easy, and I had the slight advantage of calming my nerves with the two shots I took before meeting him. When my boss called, it was the perfect excuse to sneak out to the liquor store and grab us a bottle.

  With the small talk out of the way, we move on to more personal discussions and it’s a refreshing surprise when he actually lets me take the lead and shows an interest in my life. Instead of just telling
him what I do, I go into more depth, discussing why I love my new job and how I get to interact with people all over the world on a daily basis. When we discuss family, he lets me gush on and on about my two nieces. He grins and nods at my silly statements about Disney princesses, Monster High, and of course, Barbie, almost like he knows what I’m talking about.

  “I happened to get my hands on this ultrarare glitter Shopkin.” I stop myself. Okay, enough, I’ve crossed the realm of girly items over to a toy no man in his twenties would know anything about.

  “Where the hell did you find the ultrarare glitter Shopkin?” he asks, his brows coming together with a shocked expression of someone who not only understands the value of this item but genuinely has an interest in where I found it. “I’ve searched everywhere online,” he says, bringing the conversation to an uneasy halt.

  He’s searched everywhere online? Is that what he just said? I pick up my wine for a long gulp and try to process this. Gulp. Nope. I can’t. “You have?” I know Jayne doesn’t have any kids. Is it possible that she left out some details about her brother? “Do you have kids?” I ask.

  He shakes his head no. His hand reaches up and covers his mouth. I get a sense of panic from the wide eyes looking back at me. My heart sinks ever so slightly. Shit. Is he like a Brony or some weird-ass crap like that? An adult man with an obsession for little kid toys? He stares into his wine glass then takes a big sip. “A guy at work, his kid collects them, that’s how I know about the whole Shopkin phenom.”

  I sit back in the booth and unpin the little white cap from my hair, deciding if I find that answer okay or not. I shake my hair out and gaze at the man across from me before deeming it an acceptable response. But maybe that’s just because so far he’s endearing, intellectual, and not to mention, hot as hell! Honestly, I don’t even think I give a shit if he is a Brony.