Worst Date Ever

by J. S. Cooper

  “I can see I’ve got you thinking.” Jack smiled. “I like that.”

  “What? You like that I think, or are you like that—”

  “Oh, my gosh. Isabella, really? Sorry.”

  I gave him a little smile. “So let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk more about you.”

  “You keep saying that. You love to deflect.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just interesting.”

  “Well, I am interesting, or did you think I was not going to be interesting?”

  “Let’s just say you’re a little bit more interesting than I thought,” he nodded. “I don’t know that …” he paused. “Well, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t matter what?”

  “I don’t know. This is kind of an interesting first date, if you know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I mean, it’s not great, is it?”

  “Excuse me. Are you saying I’m a bad first date?”

  “Um, honey, let’s just say this is not the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

  “Oh, really? You’ve been on better dates than with me?”

  “Yeah, definitely. In fact, I would even go as far as to say that almost all of the dates I’ve been on in my life have been better than this.”

  “Wow, how rude!”

  “What? I thought you women like honest men.”

  “You’re not being honest. You’re being—”

  “What, I’m a pig because I told you you’re a bad first date?”

  “You know what? You’re a bad first date.”

  “It’s funny, though, don’t you think?”

  “What’s funny?”

  “It’s funny how you haven’t left, even though you think I’m such a horrible guy.”

  “I’m here for the meal.”

  “Oh, so you’re one of those girls, are you?”

  “One of what girls?”

  “You’re one of those girls that goes on dates to get free dinners.”

  “Oh hell, no. I’m not one of those women. How dare you?” I glared at him, daggers shooting from my eyes.

  “I dare because to me it doesn’t even seem like you wanted to come on this date. You’re acting like you’re here against your will. You seem surly and—”

  “Surly? Are you kidding me? You did not just use surly to describe me, did you?”

  “I mean, I could also say ‘sexy,’ but I feel like you would pull my hair out if I said that.”

  That took me aback a little. “What … what made you think that?”

  “Okay, you’re sexy, and that’s the only reason why I’m still sitting at this table. How do you like that?”

  My jaw dropped. I didn’t know what to say. I mean, I couldn’t tell him off for what he just said, because then he’d be right. But the only reason he was still here was because I was sexy? Did he mean that my personality was bad and it was my looks that had him here?

  That was the first time anyone had ever said anything like that to me. I normally assumed my personality was much better than my looks. Not that I was ugly, but I was no Cindy Crawford or Elle Macpherson or Claudia Schiffer or Kendall Jenner—and I hated Kendall Jenner, but she had a nice body, nothing like mine. I would need to go on a million more diets and lose a million more pounds and work out a million more hours before I was even half close to looking like Kendall Jenner.

  “ … Thanks?”

  Chapter Six

  “Thanks?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Are you one of those women that doesn’t need a man?” The smug entitled look on his face made me want to slap him.

  “Are you one of those men that doesn’t know how to give an orgasm?” I snapped back. I hated how amused he looked.

  “Oh, I’ve given plenty of orgasms.” He smirked. “Is that your problem?”

  “What?” Ignore the urge to wipe that smile off of his face, Isabella, I lectured myself internally as I stared at his handsome face. He seemed like the sort of jerk who’d get off on me putting my hands on him.

  “Are you acting like Miss Havisham because you’ve never been pleasured properly before?”

  “Are you acting like Austin Powers because you’re an … idiot?” I finished weakly.

  “That’s the best come-back you have?” This time he did start laughing, running his long fingers through his golden blonde hair. I hated the fact that this man was so handsome. It should be illegal to be that handsome—and that much of an ass.

  “Anything more complicated would have gone over your head.” I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

  “Well, isn’t this just the best first date ever?” He grabbed his wine and took a large chug. “I bet I can guess why you’re single.”

  “I bet I can guess why you are too.” I let my eyes drift downwards and back up to his eyes. “Pity.” I gave him my most dazzling smile and sat back, feeling proud of myself.

  I should have known it wouldn’t last very long.

  “You’re very mouthy for someone who was begging me to go out tonight.”

  “Excuse me? Begging you?”

  “Or giving me an ultimatum, anyway.”

  “Say what?” What had Abby done? Was I going to have to commit homicide? I was too pretty to go to jail for murdering my best friend.

  “‘I have to meet you right away …’” He raised his voice in a high-pitched falsetto. “‘I don’t want anyone else to get you before I meet you.’”

  I pressed my lips together. It was official. I was going to have to kill Abby. What the hell had she been thinking? She’d made me out to be a desperado. And just because I hadn’t had sex or a boyfriend in well over a year didn’t mean I was desperate. “I was … joking.”

  “You were joking? Riiight.” Jack nodded his head as if he didn’t believe me at all. “And were you also joking about the fact that you …” He paused. “I guess we’ll see.”

  “What?” I leaned forward. “What did I say?” What else had Abby told him?

  “You can’t even remember? What, do you have amnesia or something?”

  “No, I don’t have amnesia,” I snapped at him. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be trying to impress me, you’re not doing such a hot job.”

  “I could say the same thing, girlie.”

  “Don’t call me girlie.”

  “Sorry. I could say the same thing, woman.” He shrugged. “Oh, thank God.”

  “What?” I said, and then I saw the waiter was approaching us with our meals. Oh, well. I guess that meant it was too late for me to leave, but I was going to enjoy the heck out of this prime rib and roast potatoes, and then I was going to get out of here.

  “Waiter?” I said as he put our plates down.

  “Yes ma’am?”

  “Can you bring us another bottle of wine, please?” I smiled and then looked over at Jack. I wasn’t even going to ask his permission. “In fact, why not bring two? I think we’re going to need them.”

  “Two, ma’am? At the same time?” He looked at me with a hesitant expression, and then he looked over at Jack.

  “I’m not sure why you’re looking at him, but yes, I said two bottles. Thank you.”

  “And you can go ahead and bring me a beer as well,” Jack said with a smooth drawl. I could hear a hint of amusement in his voice, and I looked at him through narrowed eyes. Did he think this was funny?

  “Yes sir, sure. I will be right back. Same wine, ma’am?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “And sir, what beer would you like?”

  “Why don’t you surprise me?” Jack sat back. “Actually, bring me your beer with your highest alcoholic content.”

  “Okay, sir. I will check with the bartender.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Enjoy your meals.”

  “I’m sure we will.” I sat back and waited for Jack to say something, but instead, he picked up his wineglass and held it towards me.<
br />
  “Bon appétit.” He raised his glass.

  I grabbed my wineglass and clinked his. “Bon appétit.”

  I couldn’t believe we were acting as if everything were fine when we had just been arguing seconds before. This was the weirdest first date ever. In fact, I would go so far as to say the worst first date ever. In fact, the worst date I’d ever been on in my life.

  It wasn’t all his fault. I knew that I had a bit of an attitude, and he was right: I hadn’t really wanted to come on this date. But his opening comments had been off-putting, and so far, the rest of the date wasn’t going swimmingly. If not for the fact that I was hungry, annoyed, and just couldn’t care less, I would’ve left a long time ago.

  But Abby was going to get it from me, though I wasn’t sure I was even going to have time to talk to her unless she was up when I got home. I was supposed to go out of town the next day. I was going to a family retreat with my gay BFF, Lucas, and I was going to need all my energy for that one. But I would think about that later.

  “So, Isabella?”

  “Yes, Jack?” I cut into my prime rib and took a bite, almost moaning out loud. It was sumptuous. The best steak I’d ever had in my life. I cut into the roast potato and dipped it into the gravy, and I thought I was going to have an orgasm then and there. Potatoes had never tasted so good, and these were some sort of herb roasted potatoes. They were salty and garlicky, and I could taste a hint of rosemary. Oh, my gosh. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. But then I blinked and saw Jack sitting there in front of me.

  “So, who are your favorite artists?” he asked me with a small smile. “Remember, we’re starting over? We can’t just have a horrible date for the entire time, can we?”

  “I mean, we started over, and it already sucking again.”

  “Wow, I’ve never been told that I suck as a first date.”

  “Well, I’m an honest sort of woman, so I tell you how it is.”

  “Oh, well.” He chuckled. “I do appreciate honesty in a woman.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  “You know the sort of women I don’t like?”

  “No, who?”

  “Gold diggers.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. I didn’t want to be judgmental, but Jack didn’t really look like he had much gold to be digging. His watch looked cheaper than mine. The leather strap was worn and cracked. His shirt looked like it came from Walmart, and that was being nice. Not that there was anything wrong with Walmart, but a distinguished businessman didn’t buy shirts at Walmart. I couldn’t remember what his shoes or his trousers looked like, but … I shrugged. And his haircut? It looked like he hadn’t had his hair cut in a long time, or maybe he was going to one of those stores where you paid $10 a cut.

  Not that I was judging him for it. I was a broke-ass myself, but let’s be real. I wanted to start laughing. I loved how men always started talking about gold diggers as if they had two pots to piss in. It was always the poorest guys that were worried about gold diggers. Don’t worry, I’m not after your $100, bro.

  I kept my mouth shut, though.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “What? I’m not laughing.”

  “But you have a smirk on your face.”

  “No, I don’t. Don’t worry, though, I’m not a gold digger by any means, and I certainly wouldn’t be digging for gold with someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?”

  I had no idea why he looked impressed, but I shrugged. “Why are you giving me that expression?”

  “I’m curious what you mean by ‘someone like me.’”

  “I mean someone who is so absolutely, ridiculously, obnoxiously annoying.”

  “I’m ridiculously, obnoxiously annoying, am I?” He chuckled some more, and then picked up his glass of wine again. “Okay. And you consider yourself a prize?”

  “Yeah. I’m a trophy. I’m like the trophy.”

  “So you consider yourself a trophy-wife sort of person?”

  “I didn’t say that.” I shook my head vehemently. “I would never be a trophy wife!”

  “Yep, I can see that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean you don’t seem to have the temperament to be a trophy wife.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I mean most trophy wives are beautiful. And yes, you’re beautiful,” he added quickly. “But your personality? Meh.”

  “My personality is meh?”

  “Would you prefer me to lie and say your personality is winning?”

  “Whatever. I think my personality is winning, actually, and I’ve never had any guys complain, so there.”

  “And that’s why you’re still single. Because you’re beautiful and you have a winning personality.”

  “Well, you’re no prize yourself, mister. I mean, you’re handsome, but your personality sucks.”

  “So you do think I’m handsome?” He grinned like he’d just won the first prize at the Kentucky Derby.

  “Why do you look like the Cheshire Cat right now?”

  “Are you saying that I have a wide smile? Are you saying I have perfect white teeth? Are you just saying that I look like a cat? A purple cat, in fact?”

  “Well obviously you don’t look like a purple cat, but—” I stopped myself. “Ugh, I don’t know why we’re going back and forth like this. We don’t even know each other. You’d think we were long-lost enemies from high school or something.”

  “I know, right? Did you have a lot of them?”

  “Did I have a lot of what?”

  “Enemies in high school.”

  “No, why?”

  “You sure? You just seem like you’d be the sort of woman that did.”

  “And you wonder why I think you’re an obnoxious asshole.”

  “Yeah, but you obviously think I’m hot, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “That’s not true. Maybe I was just hungry.”

  “So if I was fugly, you’d still be here?”

  I shot him a glare. He was correct, of course. If he’d been truly ugly, I would’ve left the moment I saw him. “I mean, I don’t know about that. I just …”

  “You just what? Let’s be honest with each other. You think I’m hot. I think you’re hot. Obviously, our personalities don’t mesh. I don’t really know what all that crap you were talking about online was, but obviously, you have some sort of alter ego. Maybe you’re one of those girls who likes to flirt online, but in person you’re shy. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But obviously we’re both here for different reasons.”

  “And what would that reason be?” I stared at him. I couldn’t believe what he was saying, but I was intrigued.

  “Because we probably both want to get to know each other just a little bit better.” He winked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You think I forgot what you said?”

  “What did I say?”

  He lowered his voice. “You think I forgot that you told me how horny you are?”

  “I what?”

  Oh, I was definitely going to kill Abby. I didn’t care if I went to jail for life. I didn’t care if I got the death penalty. She was dead. How dare she tell the man I hadn’t had sex in ages!

  His mouth curled in disdain. “What, were you drunk the night you told me? Regretting it?”

  “I just think that my personal life is my business, and, uh …”

  “And what? So you’re not interested in getting to know me carnally?”

  “You did not just say that.”

  “What if I did? You didn’t answer my question. Are you deflecting again? Am I making you uncomfortable? Or am I making you just even hornier right now talking about it?” He leaned forward. “Are your panties wet, Isabella?”

  “Oh no, you did not just ask me if my panties are wet.” I grabbed my glass of wine and drained it. He poured some more into the glass. “That is not the sort of thing you ask someone on a first date.”

 
“I think we’ve established that this is a crappy first date and there’s unlikely to be a second one,” he said. “So I think I’m okay asking whatever I want, don’t you?”

  I just stared at him, flabbergasted. I had no idea how to answer that because he was correct. There was definitely not going to be a second date. I couldn’t stand him. I literally couldn’t stand him. The smug look on his face was infuriating, but I couldn’t lie to myself. He was very attractive, and he was right. My panties were wet. I was somehow turned on by this absolute ridiculousness, and I couldn’t lie to myself. “So what are you suggesting?” I said softly, leaning forward.

  “Well, what would you like me to suggest?”

  “I wouldn’t like you to suggest anything.” I shook my head. “It’s not like …”

  “Come back to my place tonight,” he whispered.

  “What? Are you joking?”

  “Come back to my place, just tonight. We do whatever you want to do, nothing more. Shit, you can slap me if you want to. I know you’d like that.”

  “Huh?” What was he talking about?

  “I’m open to whatever you want to do, but it’s just one night. We never have to see each other again. We don’t have to exchange phone numbers. I bet we can both get out our frustrations on each other tonight.”

  “So you want me to go to your apartment to bang? Really? Is that what you’re saying to me?”

  “Well, I didn’t quite say it in those words, and I don’t think I’d be so crude, but yes. I would like to bang you, Isabella not-Rosselini.”

  I was in two minds. Part of me wanted to get up and leave, but something in me wanted to stay. I wanted to fuck the shit out of this man and not care about it. I didn’t feel self-conscious with him at all. Maybe it was because I knew I was never going to see him again. Maybe it was because I didn’t want anything from him and didn’t feel the need to make a good impression.