Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Six months later…
Elias
“I’m going to kill you.” It’s not exactly the heartwarming greeting one might expect to have in store for their one and only sister, but in my defense, she deserves that and much worse for putting me in my current predicament.
I pace back and forth on the street, warily eyeing the imposing high-rise on my left. Going in there isn’t something I’m looking forward to at all, and I wouldn’t have to if it weren’t for Aspen. She’s the one who got me into this mess.
“Why? Why did you do this? What the hell made you think this was a good idea in any possible universe?” I ask.
“For such a reasonable person, you do have a flair for the dramatics,” she says, sounding very much not guilty at all.
Dishes clank in the background, and every now and then a shout rings out.
I can easily picture Aspen right now, striding around the kitchen, hands moving at the speed of light, getting prep done for dinner service.
She owns a tiny restaurant, only eight seats and a five-course menu. She offers two sittings every evening and a lunch service on Sunday and does it all herself because my sister is the literal definition of a control freak.
“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” I say vehemently.
“It’s a date, baby brother. Calm down.”
“A date I did not want or ask for!” I pace some more and rub my forehead.
“Then don’t go,” she says, like it’s just that easy.
“I can’t just not go. I have to go.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I let out a long sigh. “The problem is I’m not good with confrontation, and because of you I have to go in there and tell some random dude I’m not going to hook up with him.”
She’s quiet for a bit. “I thought you said you were standing him up.”
My mouth drops open with indignation. “I can’t just not show up without any explanation. It’s impolite.”
People have done that to me plenty of times. It feels like crap.
Aspen starts to laugh. “Let me get this straight, you’re going to go in there and stand him up in person?”
“It’s the polite thing to do. I’ll just explain the situation to him, and he’ll understand. He’ll probably feel sorry for me once he hears my sister is meddling with my sex life behind my back.”
“Sure,” she says. She thinks a bit before she says, “Yeah. Sure.”
Her tone gives me pause.
“He will understand,” I say. “Right?”
She laughs again. “How am I supposed to know that?”
“You’re the one who set this up, ergo you know him.”
She doesn’t say a single word. I stop pacing.
“You do know him?” I ask.
“In a sense.”
“This is a yes or no question.”
“I guess you can say I technically know him as well as anybody can technically know anybody they’ve technically never actually met.”
“Aspen,” I whisper-shout.
“Technically,” she repeats with emphasis.
“Are you trying to set me up with a complete stranger?”
“No,” she scoffs. “I’m not trying to set you up. I’m trying to get you laid. He’s going to be an uncomplicated hookup. I just vetted him for you. We’ve been chatting for a while now. He seems very nice.”
“You’ve been chatting? Oh my God, this is the direct opposite of a hookup.” My hesitation is quickly morphing into outrage.
“On the app,” she says cheerfully. “Mom likes him a lot.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. When did Mom get involved in this?”
“Creating a profile for you was her idea.”
“What?” I snap so loudly a passing woman jumps and sends me an annoyed look. “Sorry,” I call after her. “Sorry. So sorry.”
“Hon, it’s time to move on from Chris,” Aspen says.
“I have moved on,” I argue.
“Then how come you never go out with anybody? Because I’ve seen you shoot people down plenty of times by now. That guy at the bar on Friday was all but flashing you to get you to go out with him.”
“I don’t want to go out with anybody.”
“You totally do, you just need to get out of the break-up rut. So go meet with this guy and have some mind-blowing sex. You need a rebound. I just nudged you in the right direction.”
“I’m not going to—you know what? No,” I say. “Don’t even try to distract me. What app?”
“The Heart2Heart app. They’ve got a great track record. It’s where connections are made. You remember Steve?”
I blink. “Steve?”
“Steve Coleman. He met his husband through the H2H app. I went to their wedding. It was incredibly romantic. They had live ballerinas as statues at the entrance.”
“Better than dead ballerinas, I suppose,” I mutter.
“And Taylor Bennet played the violin when they walked down the aisle,” Aspen says dreamily. “He’s famous. Maybe you can get his number, and he can play at your wedding too?”
“Oh my God, you’re useless.”
“All I’m saying is it could be you.” Aspen snaps out of her daydream about extravagant gay wedding ceremonies.
“Asp, what exactly did you arrange with this dude? Because you keep mixing up a date and a hookup.”
“I mean, see how it goes. Be spontaneous.”
“No. That’s not how it works. People have expectations. They either want to date or fuck, so which is it?”
She takes a long pause to think it over. “You know, there was this brief connections section too on the app, but it felt sort of impersonal.”
“I wish I were an only child.”
“Hey! Mom was there, too.”
“And an orphan,” I say morosely.
“Yeah, well, that’s not how the chips fell, so you make the best out of this situation and go on this date.”
“Absolutely not.” I scoff. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
“What principle is that?”
“If I go, it encourages you. You’ll start to think you were right. That you’re allowed to meddle in my life. And you’re not. I have to nip this in the bud right now.”
“No! He really likes you!” she says. “Give him a chance.”
That gives me another pause. “What do you mean he really likes me, Aspen?”
She’s quiet for a long, long time before she finally says, “Mom and I have been sort of pretending to be you?”
“Jesus Christ, Asp.” I let out a deep sigh. “You’re giving me a migraine.”
“Just give him a chance. I’m telling you, he’s into you.”
“He’s into you and Mom. He doesn’t know me,” I say, enunciating every word very clearly. I glance at my watch. “I’ve gotta go. I’m already late, and I want to get this over with now that I feel sorry for him for getting sucked into the insanity that is you and Mom. Otherwise, I’ll chicken out.”
“Fine. Be that way. Love you.”
“You made me into this.” I try to resist until she hangs up, but she doesn’t, so eventually I mutter a quick “Love you, too” and drop the call.
I immediately wish I was still talking to Aspen, because not speaking to her means I actually have to go inside and get this over with. I have to dump a guy I’ve never met before we can ever even speak.
He doesn’t know it, but I’m doing him a favor.
I’m a terrible date. I don’t know how to flirt, I don’t know how to talk to people, so there’ll be long, awkward silences between us.
If I ever happen to stumble on a topic that interests me, it’s guaranteed to bore the shit out of other people.
I’m a socially anxious nerd who’s terrible with people and who tends to ramble when truly uncomfortable.
And if, by some miracle, whoever tries to date me can get past the first awkward dates hurdle, I’m sorry to say that being in a relationship with me is no picnic either.
I’m a workaholic who doesn’t know how to say no, so sooner or later (spoiler alert, it’s never later) I will make whoever I’m dating feel horribly neglected.
And you’re boring.
Boring.
Boring.
Boring.
Oh, did I already mention I’m messed up from a breakup where my boyfriend of two years cheated on me in our bed, so now I distrust everybody?
In conclusion, dating me is a chore with little to no reward.
I rub my fingers over my forehead and blow out a breath.
Let’s do this.
Let’s save this poor soul from me.
The restaurant is on the rooftop and has a view of the river.
It’s a really nice place. I’m about ninety percent sure it was Aspen’s choice.
She knows all about fine dining, whereas I’m happy with whatever.
I enjoy good food as much as anybody else, but I almost never have the time to go to a nice restaurant.
The hostess greets me and starts to direct me to my table, but I wave her off and ask her to point me in the right direction because I’m planning to be in and out, and I don’t need an audience to what I’m about to do.
I get confused in about three seconds, which means I’m left glancing around, trying to figure out which poor soul here has done enough damage in a past life to be punished by having to deal with me in this one.
Based on Aspen’s description, I’m looking for “a gentleman in his mid-thirties, dark hair, dark eyes, tall, kind of a giant.”
There are people with dark hair all over the place. Am I just supposed to walk around and get in their face to figure out the eye color?
After a few awkward minutes, I’ve eliminated most people and am left with two guys.
One facing me, the other not. I should just pick one of them and hope for the best, but instead, I freeze, unable to move at the prospect of having to dump a stranger and it turning out to be the wrong stranger, and then having to go again.
But then the guy facing me looks up. He tilts his head to the side and sends me a slow smile while he leans back with his elbow on the back of the chair, and takes a slow sip of whatever is sloshing around in that glass of his.
He reeks of overconfidence, but his eyes are trained on me, so I guess he’s the one.
I make my way toward his table. He looks very nice.
He’s even put on a suit. I wouldn’t call him a giant, though.
If anything, he’s a bit scrawny. Then again, people lie on dating sites all the time.
God knows what Aspen and Mom said about me on my profile because there are a bunch of things my mother thinks are cute about me that are actually embarrassing as fuck.
I can picture her telling this stranger about how I was once attacked by a peacock.