27 Dates_The St. Patrick's Date

by B. N. Hale

“No,” she said with a smile. “Have you ever had a girlfriend at all?”

  “Three,” he replied. “Two in high school and one in elementary school. But that lasted a few hours, so I’m not sure it counts.”

  “It doesn’t,” she said with a smile.

  “Two then,” he said. “You?”

  “Four,” she said. “Three before Jason, none of which lasted long.”

  “Which was the one that honked from the street?” he asked, his lips twitching in amusement.

  “That would be number two,” she said. “My brothers called him Gassy because he would only buy premium gas for his car.”

  “Sounds like a real winner,” he said.

  “Disney teaches that frogs turn into princes,” she said. “But in my experience most are just frogs.”

  “Did your brothers nickname all your boyfriends?”

  “All,” she said with a sigh. “Even the non-boyfriends.”

  “What was Jason’s nickname?”

  She hesitated. “Nappy.”

  “Why?”

  “They said he was so bland they fell asleep when I talked about him.”

  Reed laughed. “Your brothers sound delightful.”

  “They’re your typical overprotective military brothers,” she said.

  “I would have liked to have a brother,” Reed said, sipping his drink. “I suppose when my sister gets married I’ll have one, but you never know who a sibling is going to end up with.”

  “True,” she said. “My oldest brother has a serious girlfriend and she’s . . . a bit much.”

  “In what way?”

  “Let’s just say she puts makeup on to go to the gym.”

  He laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with girls like that. I wouldn’t take them on a date like this, though.” He swept his hand at the court.

  “What would you do?”

  “Take them to a spa.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  He grinned. “I took a girl to a seaweed wrap, and she was so happy to have a guy willing to go to spas that she thought I loved her. I didn’t, and it didn’t end well.”

  “You know, we never got to talk about our worst dates,” she said. “That was a game I could win.”

  “It was your idea,” he said, pointing his fork at her. “I assumed you’d want to run that game.”

  “Our next date, then,” she said, with a smile. “And I expect you to come prepared.”

  “I’ve had my fair share of dates end poorly,” he said. “Not every girl is what I expect, and not every date can be researched.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t enlist the blondes for this date,” she said.

  “I considered it,” he said. “But I get the impression they’ll turn on me in a heartbeat.”

  “They are nothing if not loyal,” she agreed with a smile.

  He smiled in turn, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “I do have a few ideas that just might persuade them to my side.”

  She laughed. “As we agreed, roommates and friends are fair game.”

  “So what were the other boyfriend’s nicknames?” he asked.

  “Screech and Pirate.”

  “There has to be a story behind those names,” he said, adding ranch to his salad.

  “Screech was skinny and tall,” she said with a sigh. “But his voice hadn’t matured yet, so his voice would crack whenever he got nervous.”

  “And your brother probably made him nervous,” he said.

  “By intention,” she agreed.

  “It’s a brother’s duty to protect his sister from boys that don’t measure up,” he said.

  “So you did the same?” she asked.

  He pulled out a smaller pot from the box, but this one was full of chocolate gold coins. Smiling, he put the pot between them and unwrapped one for himself. She did the same, and as she savored the chocolate he nodded.

  “I preferred more covert methods of protecting my sister.”

  She snorted a laugh, nearly sending chocolate up her nose. “I bet you did!”

  “What about Pirate?” he asked, steering the conversation back to her.

  “He really liked Johnny Depp.”

  “The actor?”

  She nodded. “Really, really liked him. He had posters, stickers, and collectable action figures from the Pirates of Caribbean movies.”

  “Isn’t that a little juvenile?” he asked.

  “We were thirteen,” she admitted. “We were all juvenile.”

  He smiled wryly. “It’s times like these I’m glad I was in the friend zone. It allowed me to hide my awkwardness.”

  “And what awkwardness was that?” she asked, biting her chocolate and blinking her eyes innocently.

  His eyes narrowed. “Oh no,” he said, “I’m not going to tell that easily.”

  “Why not?” she coaxed. “It’s not like anyone is going to overhear.”

  She scooted a bit closer and leaned in like he would share a secret. Reed shook his head, but she remained in place, her expression expectant. Finally he shook his head and pointed his chocolate at her.

  “Those eyes cannot be refused, you know that? They’re like the brightest emeralds.”

  He’d said it in jest, but she heard Jason’s voice. She looked away, her smile evaporating. Noticing the sudden change in her demeanor, he sat silent for a moment. Then he grunted under his breath.

  “Jason?”

  She turned back, her eyebrows pulling together. “How did you know?”

  “Dating is a minefield,” he said. “That particular expression was one of regret. Did he say that about you?”

  Disconcerted by his perceptiveness, she nodded. “He always said my eyes were like liquid emeralds.”

  “On that we can agree,” he said with a faint smile. “Although it’s not your best feature.”

  “What would that be?” she asked, stung. She’d always thought of her eyes as her most striking asset.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, taking a bite. “Your courage.”

  She sat back. “What do you mean?”

  He held her gaze for a moment, his blue eyes piercing into her as if they could read her soul. “I’ve been on a thousand dates,” he said, “and not once has a girl asked me out like you have.”

  She laughed to cover her flush. “I don’t feel courageous.”

  “A recent acquisition?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Then he shook his head. “Or perhaps Jason never saw it.”

  She considered his words, her mind drawn back to their relationship. Jason had always been leading, always stepping in front, always wanting to teach her, to be in charge. She’d fallen into the role of follower but looking back she realized she’d never quite been content. A part of her had resented her place, and when he’d proposed that part had balked.

  “Do you always read your dates so effectively?” she asked.

  “Usually,” he admitted. “But only by necessity. If I couldn’t tell what a girl liked, the dates would fall flat—which they have, on occasion.”

  “Really?”

  His lips twitched. “I’ll save the stories for your game on worst dates.”

  She helped clean up the lunch and retrieved some of the basketballs. He grabbed a stool placed behind the pole and reached up to disconnect the hoop cauldron. Then they loaded everything into the box and walked to the car.

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  “Was it not enough?” he asked.

  She smiled. “It was plenty. I’ll be hard pressed to top it.”

  “I figured you and the blonds had already planned your next strike,” he said, his voice muffled as he loaded the box into the car.

  “Nope,” she said. “We were distracted.”

  “With classes?”

  “No,” she said. “Because a certain guy didn’t call.”

  “Who didn’t . . .” Reed’s eyes widened and he began to laugh. “You thought I would call to ask you out.”

  “I did,” she adm
itted. “But then, I’ve never heard of a creative way to ask a girl out.”

  “Let’s call it an . . . advanced technique,” he said with a smile.

  She folded her arms and leaned against the car. “You realize that most guys these days ask a girl out via text.”

  “That’s not very respectful,” he said, unlocking her door and opening it for her. “Or do you like being asked out by a text?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s almost as bad as breaking up over text.”

  He shut the door and walked around, but his door jammed. He bumped it with his hip and then pulled it open. A moment later they were leaving the park behind. As they pulled back onto the main road he gestured to her.

  “The way a guy asks a girl reflects how he will treat her on the date.”

  “You sound like my grandfather,” she said.

  “I learned it from my grandfather,” he said with a smile. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  “So now I have to ask you in a creative way?”

  “Of course not,” he said, and threw her a sly smile. “You can always concede defeat.”

  “Never,” she said.

  “Good,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to win this competition too early.”

  She stole a glance. His comment was said to tease but she thought she noticed a trace of desire to his tone. She hoped it meant he wanted the competition for more than just the game. Or was that all she was?

  Chapter 6

  They left the hidden park behind and he drove her to her car, but at her request, he turned towards her house instead. She’d noticed there was still dried paint on her clothes and did not want to transfer any to her car.

  “I’d rather clean up,” she said. “One of my roommates will help me get my car.”

  He obliged, and drove her home. When they reached the driveway he exited and opened the door for her. She stood and spotted three faces plastered against the window pane and jerked her hand, signaling them away. Reed smiled as he noticed the motion.

  “They want to know about your date.”

  “They wanted to come to the color war,” she said.

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t think it was appropriate to bring my roommates onto the date. Ember would grill you like a CIA operative.”

  He laughed. “One of these days we should set up a group date.”

  As they walked towards the porch she raised an eyebrow. “I got the impression you didn’t do group dates.”

  “I prefer single dates now,” he said, “but most of my early attempts were in pairs or larger. It’s easier to keep the conversation going.”

  They reached the porch and she turned to him. He smiled and opened his arms, drawing her into an embrace. They were mostly dry but she could feel his body against her, and smiled at the contact before pulling away.

  “I’m lucky to have you as my date,” he said.

  “See you soon,” she replied with a laugh.

  He grinned and walked away, but she waited until he’d pulled back onto the street. Then she turned to the door, which swung open before she could turn the handle. She found herself facing all three of the blondes.

  “How was the war?” Ember asked.

  “Colorful,” she said, gesturing to the lingering stains on her clothing.

  “You should come in,” Marta said in a rush. “I’m sure you want to get cleaned up.”

  “Don’t you want to hear about my date?” she asked.

  Brittney shook her head. “After you get cleaned up.”

  Kate paused in the process of removing her shoes, her eyes drifting between her roommates. She’d expected them to pounce the moment she walked in the door, but now they seemed reluctant to hear about the date. Ember shifted her feet impatiently, making Kate suspicious.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Just go to your room,” Marta said. “Please?”

  Confused, Kate walked to her room and swung the door open—and froze in shock. Her room was covered in Saint Patrick’s Day decorations. Green candy littered the floor, leprechauns hung from the walls, and shamrocks spun on string.

  “Did you do this?” she asked.

  “Nope,” Ember said, all but bouncing on her feet as she pointed to the card on the bed.

  She picked up the card and opened it to reveal a simple note.

  I’m lucky to have you as my date.

  Until next time.

  Reed

  “Reed did this?” she asked, turning to her roommates and holding up the card. “When?”

  “Just after you left,” Ember burst. “He knocked on the door and asked if he could decorate your room.”

  “What if my room was dirty?” Kate asked.

  Marta scoffed. “You know it never is.”

  “I can’t believe you betrayed me,” Kate said, but she could not restrain her smile.

  “He was so cute,” Britney said, clearly relieved that she wasn’t mad. “He wanted to leave a note for after the date—before you even started. What kind of guy does that?”

  “I can’t believe how fast he set it up,” Ember said. “He must really like you.”

  Kate smiled and looked down at the card. In the sea of green she read it again, the very words he’d said on the porch—knowing exactly what she was about to find. It was thoughtful, clever, inventive, and surprising. But she couldn’t be sure if it was still the game, or if he felt for her what she felt for him. With the power to ask now in her hands, she knew only one thing for certain.

  She was going to find out.

  Excerpt from Volume 4

  “You’re fidgeting again,” Jackson said.

  Reed sighed. “Sorry.”

  He was sitting in the living room, ostensibly doing homework. Jackson and his girlfriend sat at the kitchen table, Shelby helping Jackson with his trig homework. With an effort Reed put the pencil down so he wouldn’t keep tapping his book.

  “You should call Kate,” Shelby said.

  “It’s not like that,” he said.

  “But it can be,” she said.

  “Shelby’s right,” Jackson said. “This whole week you’ve been fidgeting like a squirrel on speed.”

  “That’s not true,” Reed protested.

  Jackson stabbed a finger at him. “Yesterday it took you an hour to eat dinner.”

  “It wasn’t that long.”

  “It’s called fast food for a reason,” Jackson said.

  Reed began gathering his books. “I need to get to class.”

  “When will you admit you like her?” Shelby asked.

  Reed stuffed books into his bag. “You know my rules.”

  “Rules change,” Shelby said. “Or did you think you’d do this dating game forever.”

  “I’ll see you guys later,” Reed said, and walked to the door.

  Foregoing the jacket, he stepped outside and strode to his car. He climbed into the seat but for a moment just stared at the wheel. Was Shelby right? Did he like Kate that much? He grimaced as another name came to mind.

  Aura.

  Burying the memories before they could resurface, he jammed the keys into the ignition and turned. Then he backed out of the driveway and made his way to Main Street. Distracted, he nearly hit the curb, and he forced himself to slow down.

  It was Thursday morning and traffic was light. Their house was just a few blocks from campus, close enough to bike or walk on the frequent occasions when his Camry decided to take a day off. The belt squealed as he turned into the parking lot next to the psychology building and turned the car off. Then he reached for his bag, but his hand stopped when he noticed a splash of paint on the seat.

  A soft smile spread on his face and he reached out to touch the paint. The color war had been one of his favorite activities, but he couldn’t tell what he’d enjoyed more, the day . . . or the date.

  He leaned back in his seat with a sigh, wondering if he should end things with Kate before they got more serious. He’d plan
ned their first date like any other, yet never expected such attraction. Her beauty, her intelligence, her subtle courage, all commanded attention.

  Leaving his car behind, he trudged to the building and made his way to class. He was early, and only one other student sat in the front row. Taking his usual seat in the middle, Reed pulled out his notebook and pencil and then stared at the map of the brain hanging from the front wall.

  The room was large and sloped to the professor’s desk at the base. A white board and a projector screen dominated the front wall, while the other walls contained posters of brain hemispheres and chemistry diagrams.

  After sixty seconds he noticed the other student glancing his way, a look of irritation on her face. Then he realized he was taping his pencil again, the sound reverberating throughout the silent room.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  The girl grunted and returned her attention to her book. Another classmate came in, and then another. Reed nodded to the one he knew but kept his attention on the white board at the front of the room. He glanced at the clock, but only five minutes had passed.

  After going on so many dates he’d grown accustomed to letting go, even if he liked the girl. He’d been attracted to some of the girls he’d taken out, but he’d always been able to stifle that attraction—for all except Kate.

  What about her was so vexing? What about her demanded attention? If he could find the answer, perhaps he could suppress the desire. Once he did that, he could enjoy their challenge for what it was, a game.

  But was that what he wanted?

  He stared at the white board without seeing it, his thoughts on Kate’s smile after the color war. Brighter than the colors plastered across her skin, it had conveyed excitement and mischief, a unique sense of adventure.

  He imagined ending the dating game, of simply calling Kate and saying he was done. His inability to give an explanation would leave her hurt, but it would be done, and he would never see her again . . .

  The very thought caused him to grimace, the prospect of never seeing Kate—let alone hurting her—drawing the scowl to his lips. He’d known the competition would be dangerous, but never considered just how dangerous. Perhaps the question wasn’t if he should retreat from Kate, but if he could.