by Emily Mayer
Janie burst through the door without even bothering to knock. “That dress is killer!”
“I could have been naked!” I shielded my cleavage with my hands for absolutely no reason. “But yes, it’s a really good dress.”
Janie swatted at my hands. “Don’t hide that light under a bushel, let it shine! What are we doing about your hair?”
I reached up instinctively to smooth down the flyaways. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
Forty minutes later, my hair had been styled by Janie, my makeup had been touched up, and I was standing outside of Arthur’s trying to force myself through the door. I was a seven-layer bar of nerves covered in emerald-green icing. Nerves on nerves on nerves.
“It’s just a date, Lennon, you can do this,” I reassured myself, wiping an alarming amount of moisture from my hands onto my dress. “Bad idea! Shoot.”
I waved the bottom of my dress back and forth, trying to create enough air circulation to dry the small wet smudges left behind on the fabric.
“Lennon?”
The sound of my name had me spinning around mid-swish. I turned around fully, mortification very evident on my face and neck, and faced the man who so closely resembled the pictures on his profile.
“Patrick?” I stuck my arm out so fast for a handshake that I ended up almost punching him in the chest. Off to a good start. “Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you. That feels weird to say since we’ve been talking for a month now.”
He smiled and slipped his hand into mine. “It does, but it’s nice to be able to talk face to face. I hope you’re hungry.”
Patrick released my hand and opened the door for me. I stepped into the restaurant and tried my best to look more “happy to be here” and less “deer in the headlights.”
“I actually skipped lunch today too.” I paused as Patrick gave his name to the server. “My friend Paige—I think I’ve mentioned her before—told me Arthur’s has the best bread.”
“It’s really amazing. They bake all their bread here, so it’s always fresh and warm.” Patrick smiled at me, seeming completely at ease.
I was so focused on staying calm and not tripping over my feet that I literally noticed absolutely nothing about the restaurant by the time we reached the table. I could not have answered the question if someone asked me what color the walls were. The host pulled my chair out for me and I slid into it with all the grace of a drunk hippopotamus. I picked up the menu and gave it a quick glance. According to the research I had done on dating etiquette, I should select something that could be easily cut into smaller pieces and wasn’t messy. Chicken wings were a definite no. Pasta fell into an ambiguous territory that made me think it would be wise to avoid if possible.
“Do you recommend anything?” I asked Patrick, glancing up from the menu.
He really did look just like his pictures, except it seemed he’d spent extra time styling his blond waves, and he had shaved the light beard covering his face in most of his pictures, revealing a strong jawline with the hint of a cleft in his chin. He was taller than me by a few inches, and lean but not thin, like maybe he went to the gym once or twice a week. He definitely didn’t have Sebastian’s—I pumped the mental brakes on that train of thought.
“I’ve had the pork chops and the sea bass, both of which were really good. I don’t think you can go wrong here, though.” He smiled at me over his menu and I made a valiant attempt to meet his gaze. “I should probably try something new, but I’m going to go with the pork chops.”
“Why mess with a good thing?” I offered. I was so nervous that nothing sounded good and I was a little worried that I might actually end up barfing.
“Exactly.” He nodded. “I try to be really adventurous but sometimes it’s good to stick with something you know you’ll like.”
I placed the menu in front of me, giving him my full attention. “What’s the most adventurous thing you’ve eaten?”
He didn’t miss a beat before responding. “Odorigui.”
“You ate live seafood?” I couldn’t keep the horror out of my voice.
“Yeah, I had live ice gobies when I was in Japan. The whole thing was really awful.” He shivered at the memory. “I would not recommend it.”
I tried to shift the conversation to less disgusting territory. “What made you travel to Japan? I’ve always wanted to visit but haven’t gotten the chance.”
“I actually minored in Japanese. I was there as part of an immersion program for a semester. It was an awesome experience.”
“Wow, that’s amazing! I regret not spending a semester abroad when I was in college,” I admitted, just before the waiter returned to take our orders.
The conversation flowed so easily for the rest of the meal that I didn’t once feel the urge to pull out the index card with my list of potential topics. It was like catching up with an old friend you haven’t seen in a while. Dinner turned into dessert and then into a drink, and I was almost disappointed it was over as we walked in companionable silence to my car.
“This is me,” I said, coming to a stop next to my car. We stared at each other silently, Patrick with his hands in his pockets and me shifting my weight from foot to foot. This was the most awkward part of the date since meeting outside the restaurant, and my mind was scrambling for a way to break the silence.
“God, I’m terrible at this.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I had a really nice time.”
I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I had a really nice time too, and for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job.”
“I’m glad you think so, because I’d very much like to see you again.”
“I’d like that too,” I responded, as I pressed the unlock button on my key fob.
Patrick shifted forward, one hand coming out of a pocket to open my door. I stepped forward to avoid getting hit by the door and effectively caged myself in—not that I felt threatened, just a little nervous about the physical closeness. Patrick’s eyes searched my face before drifting to my mouth. His head dipped down and I closed my eyes reflexively. I felt the soft press of his lips against mine and I fought the urge to stiffen in response. It had been a long time since I’d had a first kiss. His lips moved across mine, and I relaxed into his touch as his other hand found my hip. Our lips met once, twice and again before he broke the kiss and smiled down at me.
“Let me know you make it home okay,” he said, helping me into the car.
I nodded mutely.
“Have a good night, Lennon.”
He shut the door and stood back. I fumbled with my keys for a second and robotically fastened my seat belt. I gave a small wave and pulled away, sneaking one last glance at him standing on the curb, watching me drive off.
I drove silently for a couple of minutes, trying to turn off my brain. It wanted to analyze every second of that kiss.
“Stop trying to ruin this for me!” I yelled at my brain and turned the radio up, trying to drown out my internal monologue “I’m just going to enjoy the fact that I had a good first kiss and an even better first date with a really nice guy.”
I had a feeling I was going to have to relive the whole thing with Paige, Kay, and Janie later anyway. I drove home feeling a little weird but also pretty dang proud of myself. Tonight, I, Lennon June Walker, made dating my biotch.
28.
I rode the good-date high for most of the next few days. I woke up Saturday morning to find a sweet text from Patrick telling me again what a good time he’d had. Just as I had anticipated, Paige knocked on my door around eleven and dragged me to brunch, where she made me go over every second of the date. I didn’t think I’d ever had post-date brunch with a girlfriend and I kind of loved it. Also, mimosas.
Patrick and I exchanged texts the rest of the weekend, and I was genuinely disappointed that he was going to be out of town next weekend for a bachelor party. He was leaving Tuesday, so we wouldn’t have a chance to squeeze in another date before he left. We did make te
ntative plans for the following week, but now that I had flexed the old dating muscles, I was ready to go.
As someone who is highly motivated by food, the promise of a food truck festival on Wednesday kept me going through all the disasters of a still-exploding engine and some very concerned meetings with higher-ups at the beginning of the week. Spatium had arranged for a bunch of food trucks to set up in the little green space outside the building, which was usually filled with picnic tables and a few hammocks for people who wanted to spend their lunch breaks outside. I had been watching them transform the space all week to accommodate the food trucks, so by the time Wednesday rolled around, I was more than ready to get my stress-eat on. I even remembered to grab my tennis shoes on my way out the door this morning—the shoes that had been in the exact same spot by the door since my soccer lesson with Sebastian.
As soon as the clock on my computer flashed the magic numbers 1-2, I was reaching for the shoes I had stashed under my desk and slipping off my flats. I snapped a picture of my sneaker-clad feet and sent it to Sebastian.
Me: It’s food truck festival Wednesday and I came prepared! This is the first time these bad boys have seen any action since our game. I like my odds of winning at a food truck festival better than my odds of beating you at football.
I was about to slip my phone into my bag when a strange guilty feeling made me pull it back out and send a similar message to Patrick. I knew it was silly to feel guilty about sending a text to Sebastian and not Patrick. We were just friends. I never felt guilty about sending a text to Paige or Kay. The only difference between them and Sebastian was that Sebastian just happened to have a penis and these veins in his forearms that did things to me.
“Hey, what the hell!’ Janie yelled, throwing open the door to my office and almost causing me to throw my phone at her head.
“Geez, Janie! You almost gave me a heart attack!”
“You’ve been harassing me all week about this food truck festival and you’re the one who’s running late? I skipped breakfast to prepare for this, and I think I should warn you that I’m straight up hangry.”
“Sorry!” I scrambled out of my chair and grabbed my purse, slightly afraid of upsetting a hangry Janie. “I had to send a message really quick.”
I turned off my light and jogged down the hall after Janie, who was already halfway to the elevator. We made our way out of the building, and both paused to take in the glorious sight of three tidy rows of food trucks occupying the green space.
“If heaven had a smell, it would be fried food,” Janie said on a dreamy sigh. She wasn’t wrong.
“I think I can actually feel my salivary glands kicking into gear.” I tore my gaze from the trucks and asked, “Are we sticking with our original plan to get the lay of the land before we make any decisions?”
“Yes, definitely,” Janie nodded, making her way toward the first row of trucks. “Maybe they’ll have samples a la Costco?”
We wandered down each row, reading menus and creepily eyeballing other people’s selections before making our own choices. Janie went with what looked like just a gigantic pile of shaved meats from Off-Beat Street Meat, and I chose a gourmet grilled cheese sandwich from Cut the Cheese—in large part because they had tater tots as a side. A girl can always be swayed by a good potato.
Are you sure that’s a Rueben?” I asked as we sat at a picnic table tucked under one of the tents that had been erected for the event. “It just looks like weird meats on a plate.”
“You just worry about you.” Janie gave me a look that made me clamp my mouth shut. Note to self: Hangry Janie was kind of terrifying.
A series of dings coming from the general direction of my purse had me doing a one-handed dive for my phone. No way was I putting down a tot to check my messages.
Patrick: Good luck and Godspeed! I am seriously considering switching careers so I can work for Spatium.
I smiled and then moved to the next message.
Sebastian: That’s one field I wouldn’t want to face you on. Keep me updated on your progress.
He attached a picture of himself sitting in an ice bath, and I zoomed in trying to catch a peek of absolutely any part of his skin visible between cubes.
“What’s with the goofy smile you’re rocking over there?”
I looked up from my phone to see Janie looking significantly less scary, with an empty plate in front of her.
“Oh—uh, I was just reading some texts from Patrick and Sebastian.”
I took a quick picture of my plate and sent it to Sebastian with a “Round 1 goes to Lennon” caption.
“Girl, go on with your bad self!” Janie said right before a burp escaped. “I’m kind of disgusted with myself for that, but also kind of proud.”
“I’m pretty proud of you myself. I honestly didn’t think you could handle that much meat.”
Janie threw her head back and laughed. “Speaking of handling meat, look at you juggling men. The professional athlete, the suave engineer—which one will she choose?”
“I am not juggling men!” I launched a tot at her, and she managed to catch it with her mouth. “Sebastian is just a friend.”
“Yeah, mmmkay. Do you smile like a horny little clown when you read my texts too?”
“I do not smile like a horny little clown at his texts!” I said defensively.
“You’re right. Sometimes you make these lovesick puppy eyes and sigh dreamily while you try to get a glimpse of that dick in an ice bath—which, by the way, is not the best setting for a dick pic.” She held up her hand, moving her thumb and pointer finger closer together.
“How am I friends with such a pervert? You seemed like such a nice girl when we met.”
“Lies. I come as advertised. Speaking of come—” I groaned but Janie was not deterred. “I think you should take both vehicles for a test drive before you make a purchase.”
When I didn’t respond, she felt the need to clarify. “I’m talking about sex.”
I rolled my eyes at her.
“I’m not having sex with anyone. Wait, that’s not what I meant. I’m having sex with Patrick.” Janie’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “Ugh, that’s not what I meant either! No one is having any sex. Can we just move on please?”
“Speak for yourself.” She held up her hand, stopping the words of protest before they left my mouth. “I’m going to grant you a temporary reprieve, because I have a full stomach and am feeling generous.”
“You are a wise and benevolent queen,” I said, voice oozing with sarcasm.
“And don’t you forget it, my little peasant. Anywho, I was talking to Will after class last night and he’s trying to organize a big LOTR game night at his house next weekend. I said I’d put out some feelers with my peeps. Would you be interested in going? It should be pretty fun. LARPing optional, obvi.”
“Yes! I’m totally in, and it just so happens, I ordered a new LOTR shirt last month. I’ve been dying to wear it someplace that will appreciate its awesomeness.”
“Perfect! I’ll get you more concrete details once it’s a sure thing. Feel free to invite one of your boy toys. The more the merrier, I always say.”
“I have literally never heard you say that,” I pointed out. “Are you ready for round two?”
Thankfully, Janie was too busy eating the rest of lunch to mention Patrick or Sebastian again, but I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of guilt from earlier. I knew for a fact that I was not dating two people. I didn’t even think I was technically dating one person. Some part of me recognized that the problem was that my heart and my head were not at all on the same page. If I could step through a wardrobe and into a world of magic, I would choose Sebastian—and that was a problem, since I currently did not have access to a magic portal.
Later that evening, I made a quick stop at the grocery store to grab some essentials—ice cream and cat food. Cart filled with a bag of cat food, an assortment of cat treats, and a pint of ice cream for me, I made my way toward the checkout
lines. As usual, the line for the self-checkout was longer than most of the normal lines, so I wandered into the “ten items or less” line and perused the candy lining the shelves. A magazine cover caught my eye and I yanked it out of the slot to get a better look.
I knew that face. The grin, the tattooed forearms. The headline read, in bold letters: Sebastian Kincaid Spotted with Mystery Woman. The pictures were clearly taken from a distance but the images were easy enough to make out. My heart sank. Sebastian was leaning in close to a tall blonde woman whose back was to the camera. The series of photos showed the leaning turn into a hug and then a kiss on the cheek. I absently rubbed the scar on my chest through my dress. The brief blurb under the pictures was speculation about who the blonde could be, and whether this was a new girlfriend or just the flavor of the month for the British playboy.
I placed the magazine back in its spot and turned abruptly, squeezing past the man in the suit behind me and heading directly to the frozen foods aisle, where I added two more pints of ice cream to my cart.
29.
I wanted to pretend like my heart wasn’t even a little bit broken over the pictures, but it felt like those stupid pictures were playing on a highlight reel in my mind the rest of the week. A courier dropped off tickets with VIP access to the game on Saturday, and instead of feeling excited, I kind of felt like crying. I knew I was being an idiot, but I couldn’t make it stop.
Aaron held down the excited front for both of us, though. Kay sent me a picture of him wearing his VIP pass around the shop on Friday afternoon. It was actually pretty adorable. We made plans to meet at the shop Saturday afternoon, and then share a ride to the stadium, since the shop was closer than either of our apartments. He talked about the game non-stop Friday night until even good-natured Lou looked like he was ready to strangle him. I doubted Aaron would be getting any sleep tonight. He reminded me of a kid on Christmas Eve.
I woke up Saturday morning to persistent meowing and cat paws to my face. I cracked open an eye and glared at Boomer. He sat down on the pillow next to me and started licking his paws like he hadn’t just cat-slapped me awake.