Amber turned to Harold, a stern look on her face. “Half-Blood Prince. You?” Her tone implied she was ready for a duel—or a quidditch match.
“Order of the Phoenix, but Half-Blood is my second favorite.” Harold was just as serious.
“Thank goodness. I can’t be friends with someone who thinks Azkaban is the best.”
“True, but you can’t have the rest of the series without the foundation of Azkaban.”
And they were off, ladies and gentlemen. For the next twenty minutes, Amber and Harold immersed themselves in the world of Harry Potter. Kat and I stayed mute. In fact, I was in awe. The two nerds didn’t notice anyone or anything going on around them. Even when the bar erupted into cheers when David Ortiz hit a homer, they didn’t stop talking. All that mattered was Harry Potter.
The waitress came by and Amber took a breather from Pottermania to order a glass of water. The poor girl must have been parched. Kat and I ordered another round: mint julep for her, and a beer for me. Harold ordered a Coke. He hadn’t touched his whiskey. Why he had ordered that again perplexed me. He had hated it at the gay bar. Thank goodness his date hadn’t ordered an alcoholic drink or poor Harold would have had to try his best to choke down the firewater.
“How do you feel about Neil Gaiman?”
It was only a matter of time before Harold introduced the subject. I had hoped he’d ride the Potter bus a tad longer, build a little more rapport before he hit his make-or-break topic.
Amber tapped her fork on the table. “I tried reading American Gods, but I couldn’t get into it.”
Mayday! Mayday!
Kat’s fingers dug into my thigh again. Both of us stifled gasps, our mouths open. I sensed Samantha knew trouble was brewing; I don’t know how. I could just feel her observing and praying.
Harold was the only one who remained calm. “I see.” He sipped his Coke, which the waitress had just set down. “That is one of the tougher ones to get into if you’re not used to his writing. Have you read Neverwhere?”
“Neverwhere… never even heard of it.”
I’m pretty sure Amber didn’t mean it as a joke. Her face flushed, and her eyes filled with panic.
Harold thought the joke was hysterical. “Never even heard of it…that’s a good one.” Harold guffawed, dabbing his eyes with his sleeve.
I really hoped the sweater wasn’t cashmere. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Harold was acting somewhat cool; maybe even a little flirtatious.
He pushed the wrapped book across the table to Amber. “I got you this. I’m not saying you have to love it, but if you want us to be friends, you have to give it a chance.”
Did I say he was being flirtatious? Now he was giving her an ultimatum—on the first date.
Oh, Harold. I love you man, but sometimes you are too much.
“Really?” Amber raised her eyebrows. Picking up the gift, she hesitated a minute before quickly tearing off the paper.
“Ha! I had a feeling.”
Harold remained silent.
Kat and I stared at the poor girl.
Amber stayed calm. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll read this, but you have to read my favorite book.”
“Which is?” asked Mr. Debonair.
“Pride and Prejudice.”
“The chick book!” Harold’s voice cracked, bringing a rush of color to his face.
“Yup! The chick book.” Amber nodded confidently.
I liked her style. The first few moments of the date had been awkward, but once she settled in, Amber had shown herself to be self-assured, playful, and nerdy. For the first time, I was starting to appreciate Kat’s efforts in finding Harold a date. I owed her an apology. I smiled, relishing that thought of thanking her later this evening maybe with a kiss or more.
“Oh, all right. But I’m not buying it. I bet I can find a free copy for my Kindle.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to endanger your machismo.” Amber batted her eyelids at him.
Machismo and Harold: who would have ever put those two words together?
The waitress returned and we decided to start with a bucket of peel-n-eat shrimp. Not my preferred food choice for a first date—there isn’t a neat way to eat them—but the two of them dug in as soon as the bucket hit the table. Gotta love nerds. They’ll go crazy about books, but table manners don’t matter.
While she ate, I took a moment to study Amber. Blue eyes sparkled behind black-framed glasses, which she was forever pushing higher up on her nose. Her skirt and baggy sweater screamed nerdy librarian. I didn’t know much about paralegals, but I assumed she had to dress like that for work, or maybe she had changed and this really was her date attire.
Either way, it was perfect for Harold. I bet he’s had a million wet dreams about a nerdy librarian.
Kat eased them into a conversation about movies, and it didn’t take long for the nerds to launch into Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. Luckily, Kat and I had seen the movies so we could join the conversation this time.
Before I knew it, the night was drawing to a close. I think Kat realized it was time to call it good while things were still on the up and up. Amber decided to call for a cab, and Harold offered to share it with her and split the fare. I was so proud I wanted to hug him. The lovebirds left, still jabbering on, this time about the Harry Potter films.
Samantha and her friend showed up as soon as Harold and Amber had left.
“So, that seemed to go well.” Samantha sat down opposite me.
Her friend, a skinny brunette, sat opposite Kat. Besides being way too skinny for my liking, the woman was attractive. I wondered if she were gay. Was this the ex?
Apparently, Kat wondered the same thing. “Are you two on a date as well?” Her tone was playfully snarky.
I almost choked on my beer.
“You don’t mess around do you, Kat.” Samantha looked to her friend. “Cori, Kat, I would like you to meet my friend, Lucy.”
I shook Lucy’s hand. “Pleasure, Lucy. You’ll have to forgive Kat. She loves to play matchmaker. If you aren’t careful, she’ll try to set you two up.”
Lucy looked like a tax attorney. My first thought when I saw her was, “I bet she could add one hundred and twenty-seven digits together without using a calculator.” Not once did I try to imagine her naked. Yes, I did that with most people.
Lucy’s smile showed there were no hard feelings. “Too late, Kat. Been there, done that.” Lucy wore little makeup and her clothes looked expensive, especially her jeans.
Kat tilted her head, obviously not understanding.
“We broke up recently and decided we’re better at the friend thing than the girlfriend thing,” explained Samantha. She took a sip of her beer, casually lowering her eyes. “It seems I’m always better at the friend bit.” She stared directly at me, and I wondered what she was implying. Then Samantha looked back at Lucy, and I suddenly realized… she was still in love with her ex.
Thank goodness Kat was distracted and didn’t notice. Lucy gave Sam a quick glance, and then asked Kat, “So you set up the date tonight?”
“I sure did.” Kat’s face lit up. “And he may have another date on Sunday.”
I was in the midst of raising my glass to my lips, but when I heard that I set my drink down heavily. “What? Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” Kat turned to eye me.
“He seems to really like this girl, and vice versa. Call this a success, Kat. No need to muddy the waters.”
“Muddy the waters. Harold hasn’t been on enough dates to know what he likes and what he doesn’t. I don’t want him to settle,” she defended herself.
“Settle? No offense, but he’s no Don Juan. And this girl was cute and perfect for him. It wouldn’t be like he was settling.” I sipped my drink, wondering how to proceed. “I know you; once you start a project like this, you don’t know how to stop. Please, stop.”
Kat crossed her arms. The mood at the table fell.
“Hey now, if you need to help someone, help me. I haven’t had a first date in years.” Lucy giggled. “The last one before Sam was such a disaster that I can’t even count it…so that makes it even longer.”
Kat perked up in her seat. “Really? What type of women do you like?”
Samantha piped up, “Like me, but not so career-driven.”
Lucy slapped her arm playfully. “Oh, stop. It wasn’t your career. It was …” Flames shot across Lucy’s cheeks as she realized she probably shouldn’t reveal the problem in their relationship to two strangers.
“Was what?” asked Samantha, who obviously didn’t know the real reason or wanted to confirm her suspicions.
Lucy leaned over and whispered in her ear.
It was Samantha’s turn to blush. She slapped Lucy’s thigh, somewhat hard. “I can’t believe you!”
I so wanted to know. One look at Kat informed me she’d get the answer out of Lucy eventually.
Samantha feigned hurt. She stood. “I’m going to the bathroom.” As she left, she mussed Lucy’s hair, letting her know she wasn’t upset.
Once Sam had disappeared into the crowd, I studied her ex. Lucy put out zero sexual vibes. In fact, if I hadn’t known she had slept with Samantha, I would put money on her being a virgin. “Asexual” was the word that sprang to mind.
It didn’t mean she wasn’t attractive. Her face was pleasant, her smile sweet. She wore glasses, somewhat cooler glasses than I would have thought she’d wear. I wondered if Sam picked them out for her. Lucy’s figure didn’t shout look at me, but it suggested she stayed in shape and took care of herself. She smelled of rose petals—not a scent that attracted me. It made me think of a sweet old grandmother who liked to bake cake for afternoon tea. That was it. Lucy gave off a grandmother vibe.
Kat got right to business. “Lucy, do you have a Match.com account?”
“What? Online dating? No way.” She pushed her chair away from the table.
“Oh, come on. That’s how I found a girl for Harold. It’s the twenty-first century. Loosen up. One in four relationships start online these days.”
“Twenty-five percent! No way,” I said a little too loudly.
“I’m telling you. It’s the truth.” Kat placed a hand on her heart like a schoolgirl reciting the pledge of allegiance.
“One in four …” Lucy sounded impressed by the stat. She looked like the type who loved stats. “I still don’t know, Kat. I don’t have time to check my profile and stuff.”
“No worries. You can help me set up the profile and then I’ll take care of it.”
“What do you mean, you’ll take care of it? Didn’t Harold chat with Amber before this date?” I pinned her with a look.
“Harold! Are you kidding? No it was all me.” She ignored my disgust.
“Katharine, that’s deceitful—and dangerous.” I didn’t back down. “You have to let Harold take over now.”
“Oh, Cori, stop acting so stuffy. I just acted like his secretary—there was no deceit.” She threw me a glare meant to silence me. “So, Lucy, when can we start?”
“Start what?” Samantha returned and took her seat.
“Kat’s going to help me set up a Match.com account and find a date.” Lucy’s hesitation was gone. The stats had won her over completely.
“Really? Online dating?” Samantha looked to Lucy, and then to me, shocked by the direction of the conversation.
“Oh, you’re a stick-in-the-mud like Cori.” Kat grabbed her purse from the back of her chair and pulled out her cell phone. “What’s your number, Lucy?”
While they worked out the details, Samantha studied my face. I was having a hard time reading what she was trying to communicate to me.
“What about you, Samantha?” Kat held her phone, waiting for Sam’s digits.
“I’m not looking for anyone.”
“Are you sure? I’m good at this.” Kat looked like a child waiting to open a present.
“Kat, I think you might be addicted. You should see your face.” I put my hand on hers and lowered the phone.
Kat giggled drunkenly. “I may be a little addicted, but it’s for a good cause. I like seeing people happy and in a relationship.” She made direct eye contact with Samantha as she uttered the last word.
Desperate to save Sam from Kat’s clutches, I asked, “Did you and Harold go shopping today? He looked nice.”
The mention of shopping caught her attention, just as I knew it would. “Yes! You should have seen the outfit he wanted to wear.” She rolled her eyes and waved a hand dramatically in the air. “His mother and I took one look at him and decided the only thing to do was to buy him some new clothes.”
“Did you just get the one outfit?” I dreaded hearing the answer. Samantha seemed to catch my meaning.
“No, we picked out a few things. His mother was so excited about his date that she let Harold use her credit card.”
I let out a silent sigh of relief.
Chapter Seven
The sun shone, the grass was a vibrant green, the fans were merry, and the smell of popcorn and Fenway Franks hung in the air. It was a glorious day for a baseball game, and I was delighted to be at the Red Sox game with my father. In the third inning, standing in line for more beer, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to find Samantha smirking at me.
“There you are. I thought you went to the other beer line.” She casually popped into the line next to me. The line was twenty deep, and Ortiz was up to bat soon. I bet she didn’t want to miss it, so she’d pretended we were together to avoid going to the back of the line. Lucy stood right next to her, looking uncomfortable about jumping ahead of all the drunk fans.
Some of the guys behind us grumbled. Wanting to squash any bickering, I said, “Sorry. I hopped in this line because it was closer to the bathroom. Glad you found me. You can help me carry the beer back to Dad.”
It did the job. The two dudes right behind us settled down and turned their attention to their buddy, who had just spilled the beer he had left. It was only the third inning, but the guy was completely sloshed. I doubted he’d make it to the seventh-inning stretch.
We ordered two beers each and headed back to my section.
“Where are your seats?” I asked, confused as to why they were following me.
“A few rows up from you. I didn’t see you until you made your beer run.” Samantha did her best not to drop her beers when a couple of kids ran past, bumping her arm. “Kids today,” Sam grumbled. “They need to learn some respect.”
A person we assumed was their mother gave Sam a snarky look and bumped her arm again vigorously—and intentionally.
I opened my mouth to say something, but Lucy shook her head and hurried us along so we wouldn’t miss Ortiz.
“Ah, that was sweet, though.” Samantha flashed me a flirtatious smile that drew a rush of color to my face.
Thank goodness Lucy had stopped me, or I would have made a bigger ass out of myself. If the woman had turned around and challenged me, I’m pretty sure I would have dropped my beers and run screaming like a girl in the opposite direction. Confrontation was not my thing, even growing up around my mom.
“Mind if we sit with you guys until we get kicked out of the seats. You are so much closer.”
Dad nodded his consent.
“Oh you can see the bullpen from here.” Samantha gestured to her left. “Right on!” She sat down next to me.
I handed my father his beer, and asked. “What did I miss?”
He grunted in disgust. “Ground out.”
I wanted to chuckle. My father was many things, but verbose was not one of them.
Samantha pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the field. “Updating my Facebook and Twitter status,” she explained,
Really? I didn’t pin her as a social media person. I’d never bothered to get an account with either—weren’t they both just for high school kids?
“Holy shit!” she exclaimed.
I turned to her to see if everything was okay. Several other fans turned in their chairs, too, wondering whether there was a fire or whether Ben Affleck was standing nearby or something.
Samantha whispered, “Sorry!” and covered her mouth. Leaning closer, she whispered, “Harold just tweeted that Mr. Darcy is an ass.”
I wasn’t sure what shocked me more: that Samantha followed Harold’s tweets, or that Harold had a Twitter account.
“He must really like that girl.” I leaned closer, so we wouldn’t annoy anyone around us. Most people didn’t care if you talked at the game, as long as you were polite about it.
“The one from last night?”
I gave her the duh look. How many girls did Harold have in his life?
“Sorry. Stupid question.” She sipped her beer.
“Amber said she’d read Neverwhere if Harold read Pride and Prejudice. I didn’t think he would. Maybe the zombie version. Can you tell if he’s reading the zombie version?”
“I’m a little surprised you know about the zombie version.” Samantha tapped the keypad on her phone.
“Why’s that?” I didn’t attempt to hide my confusion.
“You seem a little too straight-laced for that.”
“Seriously. I don’t just read ‘literature.’” I made quote marks in the air.
“What are you reading right now?”
“Your phone.”
She smiled at my wit. “Ha! Nice try.”
“This isn’t a fair question. I’m teaching two British lit courses, so of course I’m reading a classic. And to answer your question: Middlemarch by George Eliot.”
“Okay, what books did you read this summer?”
I thought back. The only book I had read for fun was massive. “The Way of Kings.”
“Sanderson.” She looked astonished. “Have you read his Mistborn series?”
I shook my head.
“You need to read them. They’re fantastic.” Sam nudged my arm enthusiastically.
I tapped her phone. “Has Harold said anything about the date?”
Confessions From A Coffee Shop Page 11