by Jamie Howard
Even Bryce’s question about my family doesn’t dampen my spirits.
I break off a piece of bread and dunk it in my olive-oil dip. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t really like to talk about my family. Things aren’t great between us and it’s kind of a sore subject. I’d rather not bring down the mood.” I eye the white linen tablecloth as I tell him. Strangely, the pain is only minimal this time, like a paper cut on my heart.
Bryce’s hand slides across the table until he can wrap his fingers around mine. “I guess that means we’re doing pretty good with the mood then, huh?”
I pull my hand back to pick at my bread again. The crust is hard and flakes into tiny crumbs on my plate. “Maybe.” I glance up at him from beneath my lashes, my lips curving in a smile.
Gripping the stem of my wineglass between my fingers, I tilt it up so I can take a quick swallow. This wine is fantastic. It tastes like chocolate and blueberries, with the tiniest hint of coffee.
My eyes shift around the room until they land on another couple, across the room. The girl has her back to me, but the guy almost reminds me of Kyle. Or maybe they’re not all that similar, but he’s been dominating my thoughts so much that I’m seeing him everywhere. My mind whisks up an image of him all spiffed up and out on his date. Maybe they’re holding hands, or even sharing the same side of the booth. Maybe she’s got her hand on his leg and he’s smiling down at her. I tear my eyes away from the random couple before they can feel me staring and zone back in to my conversation with Bryce. But whatever good things were going for me here, they’ve flown out the window.
“—I’m telling you, you never ever want to do that. Take my word on it.”
I flash Bryce a smile, having no idea what he’s talking about. “Alright, I’ll do that.”
Conversation starts to sag on my end, but Bryce has no difficulties holding it up all by himself. I’m not sure he’s even noticed my brain has checked out. I try really, really hard to listen, but my thoughts keep straying back to Kyle. Every once in a while I tune back in long enough to give an intelligible answer, a smile, or a nod. At least when the food comes, there’s less talking because one of our mouths is usually full.
Kyle is ruining my date and he’s not even here.
“What do you think, Haley? You want dessert?” His eyebrows lift up with the question.
“Not tonight. I’m so full.” I rub a hand over my stomach, which is not at all full. In fact I wrapped up most of my dinner because I couldn’t stomach it. Too bad I can’t heat it up in Kyle’s microwave afterward and share it with him. He’ll be too busy … nope.
Declining dessert, Bryce passes over his credit card to the waitress, and a minute later he’s signing on the dotted line. My legs feel a little wobbly when I stand, like someone replaced my bones with jellyfish, and I peek at the empty wine bottle on the table. How many glasses did I have? I’m so going to pay for that in the morning.
Bryce offers me his arm and I take it, tucking my hand through the crook in his elbow. The cool spring air nips at my legs as we walk outside, and Bryce drapes an arm across my shoulders, tucking me closer to his side. The valet brings round his car and before I know it we’re heading home, his headlights cleaving through the night.
We keep up a steady stream of small talk until we pull into my parking lot. Throwing the car into park, he turns so he can look at me. “This was fun.” He shifts a little, his fingers tapping restlessly against his pants. “So, I know this isn’t proper date etiquette. I know I’m supposed to wait three days or something before I tell you that I like you, but I do. Like you that is. And I’d love to do this again sometime, if you’re interested?”
Never in a million years would I have imagined turning down a second date with Bryce after spending weeks trying to hunt him down at Rodeo Jive. And yet, a gentle letdown is exactly what comes out of my mouth.
Chapter 20
Kyle
As far as blind dates go, this one is really not that bad. I mean as long as you discount the fact that there’s absolutely no chemistry whatsoever and we gave up any pretense of this going anywhere about an hour ago. Still, it’s been kinda nice just sitting and chatting with someone for a while.
Kerry’s spoon bounces off the edge of her mug as she swirls it through her coffee. “It’s awful trying to find somewhere affordable to live off-campus, but after failing miserably to find a decent roommate my first two years in the dorms, I gave up.”
“I don’t blame you. My freshman year I got saddled with this kid who used to watch me while I was sleeping. Talk about creepy.” A shudder works its way through me.
“Wow. Well, my last roommate had absolutely no boundaries whatsoever. She had sex right in front of me and everything.” Taking a sip of her coffee, she holds up a finger. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that she used to use my laptop all the time when I was gone because I’m having a serious problem with porn.”
I inhale my latte. “I’m sorry, porn?”
“Picture it: I’m trying to write a paper on the effects of global warming and suddenly there are dicks everywhere. Big dicks, little dicks, hairy dicks—”
“I got it.” I squeeze my eyes together hoping that’ll extinguish the dick parade going on in my brain. “You’ve probably got a Trojan.”
“The condom?”
“No.” I crack up. “The virus.”
Kerry taps a finger on the tip of her nose. “Right. I knew that. So, how do I get rid of it?”
“I mean you could take it to something like Geek Squad, but they’ll overcharge you for it. Or you could ask your new friend very nicely and he might be willing to help you out with it.”
Her eyes light up. “You’d do that?”
“Maybe.” I shrug.
“Man, your brother wasn’t lying about you being a nice guy. I’m actually kind of pissed at myself that I’m not feeling anything for you because you’re pretty fantastic.” She sighs and runs a hand through her long dark hair. “What’ll it take to buy your services? Can I bribe you with a Danish? Maybe a cookie?”
“I might be persuaded with a good cookie.”
She grins and hops off her chair. “Be right back.”
I watch her go, mentally berating myself for comparing everything about her to Haley. She’s not even here but she may as well be with how much I’ve been thinking about her. It’s been a long time coming, but I think I’ve finally made a decision about what I’m going to do—I’m going to tell her, I have to. It’s the only way I can really ask her out with a clean conscience. I hope to hell and back she’ll be able to forgive me.
Just as I think it, my phone starts buzzing in my pocket.
It’s my work phone. Which means either there’s an actual emergency happening at work, or Haley’s ringing the Clark line. I shake my head to myself. It has to be work. There’s no way that my date is lasting longer than hers. That would never happen. An image of her and Bryce together at a restaurant, holding hands, doing more than holding hands brands itself in my brain.
I dig my phone out of my pocket, all the while sending up a silent prayer that the servers haven’t imploded and whatever Mr. March wants can wait until morning.
Turns out, there’s no emergency at all.
Lois: So you know how you mentioned how you keep going on all these bad dates? I think it’s contagious.
Well, that’s unexpected.
Me: Another one? What’s that, four in a row for you?
Lois: Yup. And get this. This date was with that guy I was telling you about, Bryce. The one who accidentally gave me your phone number?
Me: Weren’t you pretty much convinced you were going to have his babies after the first time you met him?
Lois: Wow, someone’s testy tonight.
Me: Sorry. So what happened, he married too? Or maybe he had a really bad sweating problem?
Lois: Nothing like that, thank God. The night was actually pretty perfect. He brought me flowers, took me to a nice resta
urant, the conversation was great. It’s just that … I don’t know. I wasn’t feeling it. Things have changed.
Things have changed? What in the hell does that mean?
I check back on Kerry. She’s heading back with our pastries, so I don’t have a chance to respond even though I’m burning up with curiosity. She spots my phone as she settles back at the table and passes me a warm chocolate-chip cookie. “That the girl you’ve been thinking about all night?”
I choke on a chocolate chip. “What?”
“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” She lifts up one shoulder and nibbles at the edge of her red velvet cupcake.
“How did you … how?”
“Just a feeling. Your mind’s been off somewhere else, and when you’re out on a date with a beautiful woman the only other place your thoughts would really be is on another beautiful woman.”
“Guilty.” I run a hand through my hair.
Kerry screws up her face. “So what are you doing on a date with me when you’d clearly rather be on one with her?”
I suck the chocolaty remnants off my thumb. “It’s a very long, very complicated story.”
“And you’d tell me but you’ve gotta run because you want to finish your conversation with her?”
I bark out a laugh. “Am I really that transparent?”
She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m just an expert at reading guys.” Waving a hand at the door, she gestures toward it. “Go ahead, get out of here.”
We both stand and I give her a quick hug. “This has been the weirdest date I’ve ever been on.”
“Sorry bud, you’re not even close to taking that top spot for me.”
I back away, fingers worrying the edge of my phone. “Give me a call about your laptop; I’ll get it working as good as new.”
She grins and gives me a thumbs-up. “You’ve got it.”
With a wave, I leave and carefully pick my way down the stairs. I slip into my car, start her up, and pull out of the lot. It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to my apartment, but all nine hundred seconds of it are crammed with silent reprimands. It’s not until I’m climbing my stairs and goose bumps are racing up and down my bare arms that I realize I left my jacket at the coffee shop. Fingers crossed Kerry picked it up and I can grab it when I go over to fix her laptop.
I unlock my front door, and I’m already typing a response by the time it shuts behind me.
Me: Sounds like everything was going alright. What changed?
My heart pumps extra hard in my chest, so loud that I can practically hear it. The wait for her response is agonizing, and as the minutes tick by I think maybe she’s not going to answer me at all. Maybe in the twenty or so minutes it took me to get home she fell asleep or something.
Then my phone lights up.
Lois: Do you think attraction is always an immediate thing?
Well, that doesn’t answer my question.
Me: Aesthetically I think it usually is. You see someone and you’re either physically attracted to them or you’re not.
Lois: I don’t mean the physical stuff, or not entirely. I’m talking more about someone you’ve been friends with for a while. I guess I’m worrying whether a guy might develop an attraction if it wasn’t there from the beginning.
I have to sit down. Holy shit. I need to hide my phone and stop answering, right now. This is bad. It’s one thing for her to unload on me about her family, but if she starts talking to me about me? Letting that happen would be awful and pretty unforgivable.
I set my phone on the coffee table, then pick it back up. No, I can’t answer her again. Tossing it back onto the table, I lace my fingers together and set them in my lap.
Another text comes through.
Lois: You should see me. I can’t stop laughing at myself. Imagine it. I’m sitting at this fancy restaurant, having a fabulous time with this guy who, not that long ago, I was pretty crazy about. Like stalk the bar where we met crazy because he gave me the wrong number. You remember. And then there’s this other guy (actually, we work together, I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned him?) and he is literally all I can think about tonight. My whole night was ruined because I’m crazy about this guy who’s out on a date with another girl and I don’t even think he actually likes me!
I should probably breathe, but it feels like someone’s strangling me. Like my windpipe has collapsed in on itself and nothing is getting through. I reread the text twice, three times, a fourth, trying to memorize the words and erase them from my memory at the same time.
I ruined her date.
I’d never have let Brian set me up on that blind date if I hadn’t gotten that damn message from her asking Clark if he wanted to meet. If she had feelings for me, then why would she ask Clark to go with her? Why would she have gone out on a date with Bryce at all? It doesn’t make sense.
And fucking hell, how is it possible that the girl of my dreams telling me she likes me is the worst thing that could possibly happen to me right now? Oh wait, because she’s not actually telling me. At least not that she knows, and I’ve been too much of a coward to get my head out of my ass and tell her what’s been going on so now I’m screwed. I just wanted to be the nice guy who was there for her in whatever way she needed and instead I’ve fucked this up beyond repair.
Thoroughly hating myself, I give in and answer. I mean what does it matter now?
Me: Alright, so Prince Charming no longer has your heart. It happens. What about this other guy? Does he know you’re into him?
Lois: No. At least I don’t think so.
Me: So why don’t you think he’s into you?
Lois: You mean other than the fact that he’s out on a date tonight? We’ve known each other for months and he’s never asked me out. We actually spent the night together, in the same bed, and nothing.
I’m trying to come up with a response when the little bubble pops up again, letting me know she’s sending me another message.
Lois: I know I’ve told you about my ex, but I’m not sure I’ve ever admitted how much damage he did to my self-confidence. We were together for almost three years and I was so sure that we’d be together forever that when I saw him with his ex, I kept making excuses for it. I saw what was happening and I didn’t want to believe it. But in the end I wasn’t enough for him. And honestly, I’m not sure I believe I’m good enough for anyone. I’m not the confident, flashy girl who gets the guys. I’m just me.
My heart feels like someone sliced it open with a steak knife and is bleeding me dry. That’s really what she thinks? Jesus. I wonder what she’d say if she knew just how much I thought I wasn’t good enough for her. I rake my hands through my hair, wanting to tear it out. It’s too late to turn back now.
Slumping down onto the couch, I rest my elbows against my knees as I type out my response.
Me: Guys are really, really stupid sometimes. We’re not always too good at picking up on the signals, so he may just be oblivious to how you’re feeling. As for the rest of it … I’m sorry a guy made you feel that way. It breaks my heart that someone hurt you like that. But believe me when I say you’re more than enough. And I know that might not seem like a whole lot coming from the stranger you text with, but I know you.
Sometimes we’re fucking morons.
Lois: I wish I could reach through the phone and hug you right now.
Lois: Alright, so the guy. What should I do?
I blow out a breath and study the ceiling. What I think she should do, or what I want her to do?
Me: I can’t answer that for you. Only you know whether the guy’s worth taking a risk on.
Lois: You’re absolutely no help, you know that? Some superhero you are.
Lifting up my glasses, I rub the bridge of my nose, laughing at the irony of it. If she only knew how well her nickname fits me. I’ve always been a shoe-in for Clark Kent, a bona fide geek with the glasses, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be anyone’s Superman.
Chapter 21
Haley
&
nbsp; I spray the window with some Windex, swirling the paper towel in time to the music that’s pumping through my headphones. A strand of hair has plastered itself to my forehead with sweat, and my iPod may be getting a little damp as well in its hidden spot in my bra. Swirl left, swirl right. Spritz, spritz, spritz.
Using a forearm to wipe my face, I ditch the Windex and switch to the vacuum. My arm feels like it’s vibrating when I flip it on, and it takes me a good minute to get a rhythm going. I drop down into a squat to maneuver it under the coffee table, and when I pop back up, Tara’s flailing her arms at me like she’s trying to land an airplane.
I yank off my headphones. “What?”
“What. Are. You. Doing?”
“Vacuuming.”
Her eyes narrow and it sounds suspiciously like she just growled at me. “It is seven-thirty in the morning.”
Man, have I really been up for two and a half hours already? I glance around the apartment—the kitchen is gleaming, the throw pillows have never been better fluffed, and the small pile of DVDs on our entertainment center has been neatly alphabetized.
I lock the vacuum in the upright position. “Sorry. Couldn’t sleep.” Hesitating, I bypass the couch and sit on the floor instead. I’m too gross to sit on the clean cushions.
Tara rubs sleep out of her eyes and flips her head upside down to wrap up her hair into a ponytail. Belly-flopping on the couch, she wraps her arm around a pillow. “How late did you get in? I didn’t even hear you.”
“Not late. I think I was home before you were.”
“But why? This was the guy.”
I scrunch my toes in the carpet. “I’m not sure that he is.”
Tara’s eyes had been drifting closed, but at that they pop back open. “What?” Pushing up on her elbows, she slumps into a seated position and rubs her face vigorously. “Okay, I’m awake and listening.”
“It’s Kyle.”
“What’s Kyle?”
I grimace. “I think I might have a small, teensy, tiny crush on him.”
“And by teensy, tiny you obviously mean huge.” She laughs, then catching sight of my expression immediately swallows it. “Alright, so what’s the problem?”