6. Dutton
Dutton
I t turns out that missing that seminar was a big deal, at least to all the other people in my major. When I logged onto the forum last night and asked for a recap, you’d think I was looking for help burying a body. I made one very polite appeal, but the comments were brutal.
CenterOfTheUniverse : I missed today’s meeting. Any chance someone could share their notes or meet at the library to help me catch up?
TaliaMeansBusiness : Apparently, some people don’t know what the word mandatory means…
DogDaddy : Wow…you really are living up to your name, aren’t you?
BruceB67 : Let me get this straight…the rest of us attended a two-hour seminar, and you want the notes?
CenterOfTheUniverse : Yeah, I do. I can make a copy of them or whatever. And my handle is a joke because my best friend thinks he’s funny.
TaliaMeansBusiness : Pretty sure you’re the joke, dude. And you’re not copying my work. Good luck…(you’re gonna need it.)
DogDadd y: There’s another session for the evening class on Tuesday at six. You could try that.
CenterOfTheUniverse : I’ve got a conflict, so I can’t go. That’s why I need the notes.
DogDaddy : Just trying to help. Sounds like you have a lot of conflicts, dude. They run these seminars next semester, too, so maybe your schedule is more compatible with those?
CenterOfTheUniverse : Nope.
CenterOfTheUniverse : Seriously. I’m desperate.
CurlUpandDye : I can help. I’ll DM you.
Based on the username, I’m pretty sure I’m meeting up with a serial killer, but I can’t worry about that now.
I seriously need those notes, so I’ll have to take my chances.
Besides, my own username really is a joke.
This is what happens when your best friend guesses all your passwords.
And yeah, I probably could change it, but I’m a damn good center. The best, actually, so why hide it?
CurlUpAndDye has a busy schedule, so when she said she could meet, but it would have to be at the downtown location of Drip, I wasn’t dumb enough to argue.
She’s the one doing me a favor, after all, and I’m grateful.
My dad’s appointment went better than expected yesterday.
He was diagnosed with Post-Concussion Syndrome, which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like.
I know my mom is relieved, because there’s an end in sight for all his symptoms. The doctor said he should start feeling better in the next few weeks, which is good because my dad keeps asking when he can get back to work at the dealership.
There’s no way he could work even half days with the way he’s been feeling lately.
Between the dizzy spells and the confusion, it’s just not safe for him to work right now, but according to the doc, we’re at the peak right now, and it’s only going to get better from here. That’s a huge relief.
With two minutes left to spare, I step into Drip.
It looks similar to the campus location, but it’s not nearly as crowded.
I take a look around, as if someone’s going to hold up a sign that says I’m CurlUpAndDye.
I never asked for a description, and I never gave one, either, which probably wasn’t smart.
I figure I’ll glance around one more time and then check the app to see if she messaged me.
My eyes scan the booths, the high top tables, and the stools at the end of the coffee bar.
There are a couple of older guys at a table near the window playing chess, and there’s a man in glasses wrangling two toddlers into a booth toward the back of the shop.
A woman with curly blonde hair and a big red backpack is sitting at the counter.
That’s probably who I’m meeting, so I head in that direction, but my eyes snag on something and my brain short-circuits.
No fucking way. I blink just to clear my field of vision, but nothing has changed.
There’s no way in hell I deserve this gift from the universe, but I’m sure as shit going to take it.
My diner beauty is seated at a table on the far side of the coffee shop. With that long red hair and those curves for fucking days, it’s got to be her. Without a second thought, I pull out my phone and tap on the WolfChat app, then scroll until I find my conversation with CurlUpAndDye.
CenterofTheUniverse : Sorry, I’m gonna be a little late.
Is it a dick move? Probably. But I’ve been kicking myself for not approaching her at the diner all those months ago, and I felt like shit when I couldn’t track her down and check on her Saturday night. Some angel from way up high is giving me a third chance, and I’m not fucking it up.
“Mind if I sit here?” I ask, striding over to her table. She looks up at me, and my heart stutters. Fuck me, she’s pretty. Her lips curl into a smile as she looks around the nearly empty shop.
“I’m actually meeting someone, but he’s not here yet,” she says.
I probably stare for a second too long, but her eyes are a brilliant shade of green, and they draw me in. They’ve got flecks of gold in them, and I’m a hundred percent sure I’ve never given anyone’s eye color this much thought before.
“His loss,” I say, sliding into the seat and stowing my bag on the empty table next to us.
Her cheeks are pink as she returns her attention back to her laptop.
I’m not a curious man by nature. I truly don’t give a shit what other people are doing or thinking, but for some reason, I’m dying to know what she’s working on.
Is it a paper for class? Is she catching up on her favorite show? Or shopping for lingerie?
Because I’d be happy to lend a helping hand with any of that.
My flirting skills are rusty because, well, I don’t think I’ve ever used them before.
I’m a decent looking guy, if you like dark hair, blue eyes, and bad attitudes.
All the time I spend at the gym and on the ice pays off, so I’ve never really had to work for female attention.
When I think about the girlfriends I’ve had, they either approached me or we were introduced through mutual friends, meaning Blue set me up with his latest crush’s best friend.
I’m not quite sure how to pursue the goddess in front of me, but how hard can flirting really be?
“So, do you come here often?” I ask, cringing as the words leave my mouth and I realize that flirting is probably easy for people with basic social skills. Too bad I’m not a member of that club.
She laughs softly. “This is my second time here this week, and it’s only Tuesday, so I guess I do come here often.”
Silence settles between us, so of course, I clear my throat and open my big mouth again. “So, uh…what’s good here?” Jesus. Apparently, I have the flirtatious style of a middle-aged creeper from some 70s cop show.
She bites her lip and looks at me, but it’s not calculated at all. “It depends on what you like,” she says, taking a sip of some frothy drink with a mountain of whipped cream on top.
I take my coffee black, so there was really no point to my question, anyway.
I nod thoughtfully as my mind races to come up with something witty to say.
Who the hell am I kidding right now? I’m not like Blue.
I’m not charming. “Ok, look,” I say, snagging this beauty’s attention once more.
“I’m just gonna lay it out there. You’re gorgeous. Want to go out sometime?”
She blushes furiously, then looks at me with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Believe me when I tell you there’s not a comedic bone in my body. I’m completely serious. We should hang out. Maybe go for coffee.”
“We’re in a coffee shop right now,” she says, a smile playing on her full lips.
“Fantastic. Is this our first date?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Absolutely not. You don’t even know my name. How can it be a date if we haven’t been introduced? Besides, I’m waiting for someone.”
“Yeah, some dick for brains who didn’t show yet,” I say, fully aware that I’m basically doing the same thing to CurlUpAndDye right now, but there is a difference. My meet up is for a class. If I were dating this woman, there’s no way I’d make her wait.
“Well, he’s coming soon, and I don’t want you scaring him off. You scowl a lot,” she says, reaching for her coffee once again.
Shit. I was trying to smile. I guess Blue’s right about one thing. I look like some kind of deranged animal when I smile. I’ll have to work on that. “When’s he getting here?” I ask.
She bites her lip and scrolls through her phone. “Soon, I think. He didn’t really say. He just messaged a few minutes ago to say he was going to be a little late.”
“Sounds like a real asshole,” I say, then immediately realize that those words sound eerily familiar. “Can I take a look?” I ask, holding my hand out for her phone.
She passes it over, and I glance at the messages. “Oh, shit,” I say, unable to contain my laughter.
“What?” she asks, sounding anxious.
“I have good news and bad news,” I tell her, sliding the phone back across the small wooden table.
Her brow furrows. “What is it? Do you know him?”
“I do,” I admit. “And the bad news is, this guy really is an asshole.”
Her face falls, and her shoulders slump. “Great. Just what I need. So, what’s the good news?”
“He’s already here,” I answer.
Her green eyes dart around the coffee shop, then turn back to me in confusion.
“Nice to meet you, CurlUpAndDye,” I say, extending my hand toward her. “I’m CenterOfTheUniverse.”
She stares at me, her mouth hanging open. “But that makes no sense. Why did you say you were running late?”
“Because I got here and saw you. You’re beautiful, and I got distracted.” I decide against telling her about spotting her in the diner last spring and asking about the party last week. That revelation would demote me from Awkward Flirt to Creepy Weirdo.