by Karli James
I honestly had no clue what to say. This isn’t how I expected this to go. And so damn quick—a damn birthday candle that was lit and didn’t even making it through “happy” before some kid came along and spit on the damn thing, effectively ruining wishes and cake. I mean seriously, who fucks with cake? I love cake.
I thought we would banter; we had been bantering. Only now I almost feel insulted and ashamed, like somehow, I’ve let him down because I wanted to…look nice? Because I cared about that? Like most girls would. Who the hell does he think he is? I’m about to scoot out of here, thankful I didn’t waste any more time on this jackhole.
“Hey Jude…I appreciate you asking me to come out tonight. It was a good idea, because now we know the truth. I hope you find everything you’re looking for. I’m clearly not it. Enjoy your beer and have a great night.”
I gather my things as he stares at me in semi stunned silence, turn around and walk out the door. I’m sliding my arms into my coat as I head for my car when I hear footsteps behind me. I move faster, just trying to get into my car in case it’s some weirdo, or asshole, or rapist, or …oh. Jude. Jude’s here. He’s got a grip on my elbow and turns me around, studying my face.
“That’s it? You’re walking away, just like that?”
“I saw the disappointment on your face, Jude. I won’t be a disappointment for anyone. I won’t apologize for having girly tendencies, because newsflash, I’m a girl. I won’t be a choice B. I won’t be second place. I won’t feel badly for being myself, ever. I saw. Your. Face.” My teeth are clenched and inside I’m wondering how I went from elation to intense anger oh so quickly. My heart is thumping; little angry bunnies just hopping all around inside my chest.
“Kara, now hold up—" I thrust my hand up to stop him.
“No Jude. It’s okay. This was…what? A few weeks of chatting before we did this? Not much time lost or wasted to realize that what you’re looking for isn’t me.” Regret passes through his eyes, and maybe a bit of panic? I can’t tell. I’m too angry. I’ve been someone’s disappointment before, and I won’t do it again.
“Wait! Let’s at least be friends.” Is he serious right now? I don’t even know how to respond.
“You’re a prick.” Oh look. Figured it out.
“What? How am I prick? Because I suggested we be friends? What’s wrong with friends? Let’s talk this out, I realize how all this seems, and I misspoke and it hurt you, and I’m sorry, but seriously I like you. I enjoy talking to you. You’re funny. You don’t take my shit, and I…I would like to genuinely be friends with you.” He actually looks like he’s gagging on those words. His expression is off, and I can’t figure out what’s going on inside his head.
I find myself caught between wanting to cry, die of embarrassment, and totally losing my shit on this guy. What happened? He’s been chatting and flirting and then he sees me, and…oh. He saw me. That’s what happened. I sigh a really big sigh and I pat his shoulder.
“Look, Jude. I’ve been down this road before. For one, you don’t need to placate me. I get it, I really do. For two, no. Now please move so I can get in my car and go home and forget this night ever happened. Thanks for the tanker. Bye, bye now.” He’s staring at me in total confusion. He doesn’t understand why I don’t want to be his friend. He doesn’t get how he’s just hurt me by reducing this down to friendship; when a guy suggests friendship it’s for one of two reasons: Either A) He doesn’t actually want commitment; he just wants inside your pants and would like a friends with benefits arrangement. Or 2) He’s met you, and doesn’t find you attractive enough – either physically, or personality-wise, or both. I know, because I’ve been on the receiving end of those situations more than once.
Honestly, he probably still is a nice guy who made a regrettable statement, as well as a total “cringe” face, and he can’t help that he thought he was getting someone else; someone apparently PERFECT. But I can’t un-see that reaction. I don’t know, maybe since I’m not built to the what’s considered the hottie standard, he decided I wasn’t worth more than previously mentioned friend options. I don’t consider myself unattractive. However, I’m short. I’m thick. I have curves. I’m cute, and packaged right, and fun, and funny. And FUCK him. I may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but that’s okay, because I will be someone’s cup of tea. Someday.
I drive home in silence. No radio. Just my thoughts and a few tears and wishing I could have at least finished that beer. This whole thing turned to shit in a flash. I can hear my phone beep and I groan. Please don’t let it be a new douchebag. I think I’m just going to delete my profile for a while. I don’t want to do this torture anymore. Dating. Is. Bullshit.
I pull into the driveway, park and pull out my phone. I had a new message from Jude. Great. Awesome. Same douchebag. I don’t want to read it. I’ll make him wait.
Yep. I made him wait until I got all the way into my house and back into my pajama bottoms.
TheJProject: I apologize for offending you tonight. That was never my intention. I honestly…shit Kara, I don’t know what went wrong exactly, or what you think you ‘get’, about this situation, but I can promise you, you’re probably wrong. Yes, I was reacted poorly, but whatever you think I’m feeling, I can guarantee I’m feeling the opposite. Are you sure you wont’ consider a friendship?
I sit on this for a minute—really pondering if I should even respond to this dense asshole. Who am I kidding? I can’t ever resist responding.
Kara0717: What went wrong is you holding me at some standard I can’t live up to, and just FYI – most girls wouldn’t be able to. Because most girls…well they share a lot of things in common with…most girls. Secondly, I don’t need any more friends. I have enough—pretty sure you do as well. In fact, didn’t we talk about this already? So, go talk to one of them about shooting hoops, or tossing the football, or well anything you guys do with your balls. I’m not your emotional support person. I’m not your friend. I’m not your anything. Have a good life Jude. Good night.
TheJProject: Your ability to cut someone from your life so savagely would be admirable, if it wasn’t me that you’re cutting out. However, I’m sorry tonight went to shit. I’m sorry I was a dick and reacted poorly, and for the things I said when I wasn’t using all of my brain. However, I promise you, again, that whatever you think you know—you don’t. I like you. I like our talks. I wouldn’t want to lose that.
He’s such a back pedaling liar. I’m not playing this game. This time…this ONE glorious time in my life, I’m really not going to respond. He fucked it up. And I’m out. I go into the dating app, delete my profile and call it quits on that whole process. If I’m supposed to be with someone, I will find them the old-fashioned way. At a bar. While shitfaced. Not giving any fucks.
Chapter 3
Jude
Who the hell is this girl? No seriously. SOMEONE EXPLAIN THIS WOMAN TO ME! What is wrong with suggesting friendship? She acted like I slapped her grandmother when I said it. Yes. I realize she saw the emotion on my face and the heard the snark in my comment about not being like most girls, but damn it…I really don’t want her to be like most girls. I want her to not give any fucks about what other people think about her appearance. At the same time, after my asshole mind slowed down, I realized, of course she wanted to look good. She wanted to feel confident. She was meeting a man she was interested in. She’s totally normal and I was a douchey douchcanoe, and I can’t even explain why or what came over me. What did come over me? I wish I could take back everything I said, and whatever look I must have shown on my face, but I can’t. It’s too late now, she saw my reaction, and she heard my dick mouth.
Fuuuuck. This girl has me completely turned upside down. She walked into that bar like a five-foot strawberry blonde stick of dynamite. She was fire. Hot. Pure curvy fucking goodness strutting toward me and sliding her beautiful ass into that chair like ice cream dripping down the sides of a sugar cone. My mind had raced while I tried to keep my face stoic. I didn�
��t want to outwardly respond to how beautiful I thought she was; the way her shirt hugged every last curve and sunk into her soft sides where her waist nipped in. When I caught her at the car and I realized how badly I had made her feel with that one look, and those careless words, I simply reacted with the first thing I could think of; I suggested to be friends. It was a desperate attempt to keep her in my life in some fashion, and yet somehow, I further insulted her. Somehow, she knows some fucking truth? What truth? She’s cray-cray. And I’m an idiot. The end.
Have I mentioned her lips? Her plump lips that curve generously? Pink and shiny from when she nervously licked them – a little tell I was able to observe without her realizing. Her eyes were hazel, with green and golden rings that collided. Oh, oh! She had freckles..FRECKLES, across the bridge of her nose and I thought I might die then and there because, freckles. She hadn’t put make up on, and if she did it was so natural, I couldn’t tell.
Her gaze exposed my insides to things I’ve never felt before. The way my heart kept a steady thump reminding me of how alive I was; how hot she made my blood with just one look and arched brow. When a woman can arch a brow at you, even if they’re pissed, it’s a turn on. A sexy as haaallll turn on. Throw you over my shoulder and spank you kind of turn on.
Hearing her voice calling me a bossy fuck got me hard under the table. She meant it in a joking way – giving me shit for bossing her about and telling her to move out of the doorway. But all I could think about was her lips forming that word with my hands on her in a very not just friends way. My body reacted to her body the minute she stepped into that damn pub. I knew sending her that message would throw her off balance and I needed that leg up. I needed that little bit of honesty in the falter of her step, just to even the playing field.
And what does any of this matter now? Kara just exed me out of her life so fast you’d think she was getting a refund. Like if she could just cash out and get some change back, she’d feel a helluva lot better about the entire process. I’m at a loss. I don’t even have her phone number. She’s deleted her profile. She’s clearly fed up and I was the straw who broke the camel’s back. I did that to her. I made her delete her profile. I hurt her in some capacity, and damn if this isn’t going to tie me up in knots for a hot minute. That woman is badass and somehow, I made her feel less. I made her feel like choice B. Second place. SECOND PLACE? How could I have let her walk away feeling that bullshit?
Look. I’m gonna find that woman. I’m gonna marry that woman. No, I’m serious. I’m going to. Those lips. Those hips. I. Fucking. Do. She may not know it yet, but it’s happening. I mean yes, I did suggest friendship, and I would do it again if it meant keeping her by my side long enough to make her realize that the friend-zone is the actual last place on earth I want to reside with her. If friendship brought me an opportunity to apologize, grovel, touch her in completely platonic ways, hold her like she’s the last woman I’ll ever hold, and eventually low-key express my slightly more than friendship feelings, insane attraction and immediate need for her in my life, then of course I would toss that ridiculous idea out there. Because I have some damn feels about her. I realize how insane this all sounds – we’ve talked for a week. We’ve met and fought once. However, I know in my gut this woman is meant to be in my life and I will find a way to see her again. I need to make things right, swoop in, woo the hell out of her, and then ya know, marry the shit out of her. No. Big. Deal.
I went onto Facebook and plugged her name in. Umm…is she kidding with this? No social media? Who isn’t on Facebook? Instagram? Snapchat? None of it. Can’t find her. Is she CIA? What the…how did I not realize this before? This woman is nonexistent on the internet at this point, and I honestly don’t even know how that’s possible in 2019. And then I remembered she told me she was a mixologist for a bar…a bar I can’t even remember the name of, dammit. We had a whole big debate about mixologist versus bartender. Apparently, there are differences and apparently, she makes really good money entertaining the drunken masses. I need to find where she told me the name of that bar. Her profile might be gone, but I still have all our chats and emails. Tomorrow. I will research this tomorrow. I’m so damn tired right now and honestly, I might need to sleep on all my ridiculous emotions. Maybe I’ll wake up sane tomorrow. Should I really be feeling all of this toward her, already? Probably not. But I don’t think sleep is going to convince me otherwise.
I woke up the next morning ready to slap the absolute shit out of myself. Problem was, I couldn’t. As predicted, I didn’t feel differently about Kara. I felt insane, but still totally right. If that makes sense. No? I understand, but try to keep up.
I flip open my laptop for an easier scroll down memory lane, stopping once I find the conversation about her job. Guys, she didn’t tell me the name of that bar. Fuck. Me.
I could have sworn she told me, but I guess…she’s smart? Being safe online. WHATEVER. I have nothing. Absolutely nothing. No resources to find her. I fling myself backward against the couch dramatically; draping my arm across my eyes and consider finding a doctor that would be willing to castrate me because clearly, I do not deserve my balls. What have I done? I am completely intrigued with this curvy goddess with the messy bun and all I want to do is put my lips on hers and tell her what an ass I am, but love me anyway because I will do anything for you. Forever. Only maybe less intense than that to start off with because…too soon. Dating is hard. I hate dating. I don’t understand dating. Only I’m not even dating her at this point. I’m not anything with her at this point. We aren’t anything. I think I lost the girl. The One. If she’s the one though, she’ll come back right? Isn’t that how it works? If she’s really the fucking one then we’ll meet again, in some capacity, at some point in time, and my world will be rocked.
This is the drivel I’m spewing to myself as I repeatedly check my phone for messages; as if she’s going to suddenly appear with a “Just kidding! Let’s hang!” message and make all my Kara dreams come true.
I scroll through Facebook when a text pops up from my sister.
Nina: Hey dick breath, I haven’t seen you in all the years. Brunch?
She’s exceptionally classy. I’ve taught her well.
Jude: I could use some waffles.
Nina: Oh no, what happened?
Jude: Why does something have had to happen for me to want waffles?
Nina: That’s your go to ‘I’m sad’ meal. You order way too many, you add way too many toppings, and then you go home in a diabetic coma and sleep for three days.
Accurate. Can’t even lie. But I fucking love waffles and they love me.
Jude: I’ll go light on the toppings this time.
Nina: You have to tell me what’s going on. Meet me in thirty at Ruth’s.
Jude: 10-4
Nina: Ass
Also, accurate.
Thirty minutes later I’m walking into Ruth’s Diner, heading back toward the corner table which is my sister’s choice spot. Of course, she’s already there adding enough cream and sugar to her coffee to have me twisting my lips to the side before commenting.
“And you give me shit about my toppings? Is there any coffee to go with that sugary cream you ordered?” Nina, with her mussed up blonde hair and shining blue eyes looks at me balefully. I won this round.
“Hi assface. Glad you could make it. Stop giving me shit about my coffee cup of gladness and I won’t utter a single word about the twenty-five toppings you order for your waffles. I want to hear about whatever has you ordering your sad dish with a side of boohoos.”
“So many insults today! Dick breath, assface, I wonder…has something or someone crawled up your bum and taken permanent residence?” She narrowed her eyes at me in that dangerous way women do; right before they take a murdery swipe at your heart and level you flat. Reminding you exactly who you are in their world; replaceable. And while she is my sister, I suppose that with her having been a bit of a tomboy my whole life, chasing after me and my best friend Liam, she coul
d actually replace my brotherly stance in her life with his. Although lately…well, maybe not.
“I’m choosing to ignore that comment because you’re my brother, and therefore I’m obligated to care about you more than other people. But don’t let it happen again. Now spill. Tell me. I can see it in your eyes that you’ve got a thing happening and you’re also deflecting which tells me this thing is serious.” Well, isn’t she just so astute?
“It’s a woman.” Nina cocks her head at me, scrutinizing my expression.
“Since when has a woman got you tied up like a pretzel?”
“Since this woman is AHFUCKINGMAZING, and I was a royal dick breath as you would say. I mean severely cocked it up, and not in a fun way.” She scrunched her nose.
“Ew. But go on.” I chuckled lightly while I debated about how much I wanted to reveal. Nina is my truest confidant. It’s true, I have Liam and he’s the perfect guy’s guy. He’s also a bit of a manwhore, and while I do not judge his prowling ways, he’s also not the person I talk to first about my serious romantic ventures. Whereas Liam is still fine with casual hook-ups, or whatever kind of opportunity struts his way, I try to invest my time in people I have a connection with.
Kara and I, we have a connection and I let one stray thought process cover my features and our potential relationship like a sopping wet blanket.
“Nina, this girl…she’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before. I barely know her, honestly. I met her online. Remember The J Project? Anyway, the connection we had was instantaneous; the witty banter, the flirting, the sarcasm—I’m telling you this woman would go head to head with you in the sarcastic war against me. She’s brilliant, beautiful. The kind of beautiful though where you can just tell she doesn’t see it, or get it, or believe it. You know what I mean? She doesn’t fit the mold. She’s got more curves than angles and her hair was up in this messy knot when I met her. Nina. She. Has. Freckles.” Nina gasped, she knows my adoration of freckles. “Her mouth is full-lipped and when she smiles it’s absolutely the best thing I’ve ever seen.”