Chapter 16
Chastity
“What are you studying?”I ask Nick, smiling politely at him across the table at the local town diner,
“Economics,” Nick says, frowning. “I told you that in our messages.”
“Oh! Of course, sorry.” I do remember it now that he says it because I am curious what you do with a degree in economics.
“I guess you can’t keep me straight with all the other guys you’re talking to,” Nick says, shaking his head with an I-knew-it look on his face. He lifts his disposable coffee cup to his lips.
That puts me on edge. “Uh, what do you mean?” I flick my finger over the cardboard sleeve on my own coffee cup and shift in my chair.
Nick is reasonably attractive, my age, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Just an average guy. He had given me a friendly smile when we first sat down, but he seems to be getting more and more reserved, which is making me more and more awkward.
“Let’s face it, girls can get any guy they want. They can have sex at any time, date at any time, snap their finger and have a guy dropping on one knee. A lot of girls enjoy that power.”
What the hell is he talking about? I was honest with him that I haven’t been dating. “I have no idea what or why other girls do what they do,” I say, truthfully.
“Are you talking to other guys on the app?”
“Well, yes. But casually. I went out on one date, and it didn’t work out, so that’s why I agreed to meet you.”
“Backup plan?”
I stare at him. Well, isn’t this a fun way to spend my one day off this week? “No. I just happened to match with him first, then you. Are you seriously trying to tell me you aren’t talking to any other girls?”
It’s clear from his expression, and the fact that he doesn’t answer the question, that he is. “So do you share custody of your son with your ex, like fifty-fifty or what?”
The topic shift has me relaxing back into my chair. I no longer have any desire to get to know Nick, and so I don’t really care what he thinks if I slouch. My back hurts from lifting patients. “No. I have full custody.” That’s all Nick needs to know about that.
He makes a face. “I didn’t realize that. I figured you had, like, every other weekend alone, at least.”
I just say, “No.” I glance at my phone, wondering how soon I can justify leaving.
Nick saves me the trouble. After we stare at each other for a second, he glances around the coffeeshop several times.
Then he shocks me by saying, “I think you’re too pretty for me. This isn’t going to work.”
“What?” I have no clue what that is supposed to mean. It certainly doesn’t feel like a compliment.
He’s right. It’s not going to work. But I don’t think my face has anything to do with it.
“Every guy in here has looked at you at least three times, and the one guy by the door literally can’t take his eyes off of you.”
“What?” I say again, astonished, swiveling around. I haven’t noticed anyone looking at me at all. The only men in the coffee shop are a trio of guys in their seventies, two of them playing checkers while the other offers advice and commentary. There’s also a teenager who does glance my way, but he seems to be eyeballing Nick more than me.
I take a full turn to see who is by the front door, and I suck in my breath.
It’s Hank. He has his laptop and a cup of coffee. A half-eaten pastry is on a plate next to his computer. His gaze locks with mine, and he nods his head ever-so-briefly before turning back to his screen.
“That’s a friend of mine,” I tell Nick, turning back toward him. “His sister was my best friend in high school.”
“Ah, a friend. He doesn’t look like a friend.”
Annoyed, I just repeat, “Yes. A friend.”
“Men and women can’t be friends. That’s a fact. Have you had sex with him?”
I feel my jaw drop and my cheeks heat. “That is absolutely none of your business.”
“Which means you have.”
Again, he’s right, but I am furious that he thinks he has any right to ask me that, or that I owe him the truth. “Enjoy the rest of your day.” I shove my chair back and stand up, grabbing my purse.
I’m proud of myself for not sticking around to defend myself. I have nothing to defend myself for, and certainly not to this insecure man-child. I shouldn’t give Nick the Prick the satisfaction of talking to Hank, but I can’t help myself.
Hank gives me a look of concern when I walk past his table. “Chas? You okay?”
That’s all it takes for me to drop into the chair opposite him and blurt out, “That guy was just…a jerk.”
“Wow, don’t hold back,” Hank says, sounding faintly amused. “What did he do? Do I have to go kick his ass?”
“No. He just said I’m too pretty for him because guys look at me.”
“He’s right. Guys do look at you. And you are too pretty for him.”
I sigh, exasperated, especially when I realize I left my coffee at the table. “Shit. I left my coffee over there. That was a seven dollar latte. In Porte French! That seems like a bold price.”
“Here.” He pushes his drink over to me. “Take mine. They went too heavy on the vanilla for my taste. Also, the production costs are still the same, no matter where you live.”
“Thanks for an economics lesson. You should go chat with Nick about it—that’s his major.” I lift his coffee and take a sip. “He said men and women can’t be friends.”
“He’s wrong. Look at us.”
“Exactly!”
Hank chuckles. “Though if the standard to meet is a sexual-tension-free friendship, then I think Nick’s theory may not be that far off the mark.”
Considering I was expecting him to agree with me, not Nick, I reach out and smack his arm. “Hank!”
“What? It’s true,” he protests. “We can’t just say we’ve only ever been friends. I have tasted your?—”
I cut him off. “Oh, my God, be quiet!” I hiss.
Of course, Nick approaches the exit right then. He eyes us both with a knowing glance and sets my coffee down on the table beside me without a word. The door jangles as he exits.
“Did he hear you?” I ask.
“I have no idea. Who cares? You didn’t like him anyway.”
I reach for the coffee Nick left.
Hank puts his hand on mine. “Don’t drink that. He probably put his finger in it or something.”
“What?! Why would he do that?” But I shove the cup away from me and start digging in my purse for hand sanitizer.
“Because he’s jealous. You’re too hot for him, and he knows it. Hell, he said it.”
“I’m not cut out for this,” I say, flustered. I squirt the sanitizer in my palm and rub both hands together vigorously.
Hank is grinning.
“You’re enjoying this,” I accuse. “The horror show of my dating attempts.”
He wipes the grin off his face. “No, I’m not. Sorry. I want you to be happy, Chastity. More than anything.”
My stomach flips. His expression is earnest, his hand stretching out to cover mine. His touch makes me tingle all over, his hand strong, fingers calloused. His gaze feels intense, sincere, caring. More than friends.
I have the sinking feeling that I’m only going to be happy in a relationship if the man staring back at me is Hank.
“I am happy,” I tell him. “Maybe I don’t need to date.”
I mean that. It’s an honest thinking-out-loud emotion.
Unless it’s Hank.
He says, “Maybe you need to not overreact. There’s a guy out there for you. Just have fun with it all. You’re still young.”
And…we’re right back in the friend zone.