Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
This whole date-pocalypse was starting to feel a little too much like a speed-dating carousel. One that had lost control and refused to stop spinning.
Every time Haleigh thought she could catch her breath, someone new reached out.
On Monday night, there was Connie, Joey’s friend from one of her book clubs. Though the evening started out promising, with a delightfully chatty dinner at a restaurant that exclusively served pizza in cupcake form, things took a drastic turn when they decided to see a movie.
Connie wanted to sit in the front row, which didn’t have reclining chairs to help dampen the steep angle. Haleigh could feel the muscles in her neck cricking before the trailers were done.
Then Haleigh’s date decided to read every subtitle out loud. Like she was an audiobook narrator, putting on her best performance. This action film was not short on subtitles, since 90 percent of it took place in Italy, and a good half of them were fully R-rated.
It was a real experience to watch Connie, with her topknot of black hair and round tan cheeks, scream out, If you touch her I will rip out your fucking heart and feed it to you with her full chest.
That night, when she’d told Jack about the date, he mused that Connie probably didn’t whisper in libraries either.
Haleigh had gasped. “That’s criminal. ”
Three days later, she met Erik, Pépère’s VA nurse, at a nearby brewery.
The place was hosting a “Doggie Date Night” event, where people could bring their dogs and participate in games and small obedience sessions. There were snacks and treats for humans and canines, and a lot of free beer.
Erik was soft-spoken and polite, and he blushed shyly every time Haleigh looked directly at him, bursts of red coloring his pale skin. He was a good half a foot taller than her, with straw-colored hair cut close to his head and coffee-brown eyes.
She tried hard to keep up a string of conversation but Erik seemed to struggle with small talk, and was endlessly distracted by the random dogs that repeatedly ran up to him and gave his knees a small taste.
“This happens all the time,” he said sheepishly, smoothing out his pants after a Havanese puppy had nipped at his calf for a second time.
“Are your knees made of bacon?” Haleigh joked.
Erik smiled for the first time that night. “I don’t think so. Thankfully my ex, Molly, just had cats.”
Their conversation dwindled after that, so Haleigh defaulted to her trusty random facts, which did little but give Erik more opportunities to mention his ex. Over the next ten minutes, she learned that Molly had wanted to visit Australia (a continent wider than the moon), was a dental hygienist (human teeth are the only part of the body that don’t heal), and had put ketchup on strawberries when she was a kid (ketchup was once sold as medicine).
They were sharing a basket of wings, and as Erik cleaned the meat off a second one with his hand, he announced, “These are good,” holding the bone up before dropping it on his tray, “but messy.” He displayed his fingers full of garlic-soy sauce, then wiped them on his legs.
Next, he bit into a hot dog. It was smothered in chili and cheese, and Haleigh could see some of the toppings’ juice dripping down his palm as he angled the bun into his mouth. Chewing, he set it down and, once again, wiped his hands on the navy-blue canvas fabric of his pants, right over his knees.
I think we’ve solved the dog problem, she thought, holding out a napkin.
By Saturday night, the last thing Haleigh wanted to do was go on another bad date, but that didn’t stop Stanton from interrupting her latest job search with a knock on the door.
“Get dressed and look nice,” he declared.
Haleigh made a face as she snapped her laptop closed.
“Your mom called me, begging to help her find someone to reprieve her from bird-gate, so we’re doing this for Christine.”
Haleigh groaned.
“It’s good to keep your options open,” he reminded her, patting the top of her head.
She hated that he was right. Going on the rest of these dates meant she wouldn’t put too much pressure on her and Brian. They’d been texting every day since their dumpling date, and had plans to see each other that weekend. But with Joey’s party looming, and Haleigh’s job prospects no better than they’d been weeks ago, it would be too easy to try to turn her and Brian into something before they were ready, just to feel like Haleigh was accomplishing something.
That was a surefire way to not find her person.
So an hour later, she was pushing through the entrance of the Rose Tavern.
Stanton had assured her that she’d recognize her date and that he’d be waiting for her at the bar. When Haleigh pierced through the thick weekend crowd, she was shocked to see Monday Mike himself sitting on a corner stool, his jacket draped over the one beside him.
Instead of his usual uniform of black T-shirts, he was wearing a crewneck sweater in a deep shade of purple that brought out the green in his hazel eyes.
She sidled up to him and leaned an elbow on the wooden counter. “You’re on the wrong side.”
He dragged his fingers through his mess of brown hair as he smiled up at her. “Trying something new.” He slid his jacket onto his lap and gestured to the now empty stool.
Haleigh eased herself onto it. “Admit it, you live here.”
“I’ve got a cot under the bar.”
She snorted. She didn’t know much about Mike besides that he was a bartender here and a good banter partner. But at least there were no third-wheel birds, no bushes and brambles grabbing for her clothes, and no one was reading the menu out loud.
Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Seriously, why are we meeting here on your night off?”
He shrugged. “The game’s on. The food’s good.”
“A simple man,” she quipped.
He waved over the bartender. “I’ll have another beer, and she’ll have a giant pitcher of ice with a splash of water.”
Haleigh punched him in his (surprisingly solid) arm as she laughed. “I’ll have a hard cider, thank you,” she said.
There were four TVs mounted above the bar and larger ones on each of the walls. Every one was playing the same football game. It was virtually impossible to live in Massachusetts and not be at least mildly aware of sports seasons, so Haleigh knew it was almost Super Bowl time. “What game is this?” she asked.
“Playoffs.” Mike’s eyes drifted toward the nearest screen.
“I thought the Super Bowl teams had already been picked.” Her lack of proper sports terminology earned her a chuckle.
“The Patriots won the AFC, but this game determines the NFC, who they’ll go up against.”
Alphabet soup, all of it. She was glad when Mike put in an order for nachos and she could focus on eating a toppings-laden chip without spilling on herself, rather than whatever was happening on that artificially green field.
Someone scored, and the whole bar cheered, including Mike, who got out of his seat with a loud whoop. Haleigh took a deep gulp of her cider. “Go team,” she mumbled.
Mike caught her halfhearted celebration as he sat back down. “Not into sports, huh?”
She grimaced. “Sorry. But yay for whatever good thing just happened.” She did a little fist pump.
Would it be rude to ask if they could go somewhere else? The dessert bar on the next block? Or a quiet restaurant with no ESPN?
She was trying to figure out the best way to pose this when the crowd erupted into absolute pandemonium. Mike jumped off his stool again, hands in the air, and everyone around them was high-fiving like they’d somehow helped to make the play happen.
In his exuberant movements, Mike smacked Haleigh’s cider with his elbow. The glass flew like it had wings and slammed into her chest, dumping the remaining amber liquid all over her shirt and knocking her salsa-covered chip face down into her lap.
“Oh, shit.” The sound of her surprised grunt broke him out of his celebratory haze. “I’m so sorry.” Leaning over the bar, he snatched up a towel. Immediately, he started cleaning her off, rubbing the rag up and down her chest, then mopping at her inner thighs. She was so surprised that it took a minute for her to react.
Finally, she waved him off, feeling too much like a dirty vehicle at a car wash. All he needed to do was spray her down with some water and soap.
Mike’s tan skin flushed red. “God. I’m so sorry. Again.” He held the towel out to her.
Glancing down at herself, Haleigh didn’t bother to accept it. Her outfit was a lost cause. His frantic “cleaning” had smeared salsa into the thighs of her jeans, and the old fabric from the towel had left a trail of white pills down her chest. Take a photo of her and she could become the poster child of bad dates.
Mike offered soda water, free use of the employee bathroom, a quick walk to his apartment, anything that might allow her to clean up, but Haleigh just wanted to go home. Though she had Mike’s whole attention now, it was for all the wrong reasons.
On her walk back to the apartment, Haleigh pulled out her phone and texted Brian.
Haleigh Berkshire: How do you feel about sports?
Brian Lee: I’d rather play them than watch them.
One red flag avoided.
Haleigh Berkshire: Do you talk during movies?
Brian Lee: Only after pausing them.
Haleigh Berkshire: How do you feel about napkins?
Brian Lee: They’re a good way to keep your hands clean.
Brian Lee: I didn’t realize that hanging out again meant a second questionnaire.
Haleigh laughed. Maybe she should start doing that. Random interrogations before every night out until she was certain there’d be no surprises.
Brian Lee: Did I pass?
Brian Lee: Don’t leave a poor guy hanging on tenderhooks.
Haleigh Berkshire: Tenterhooks.
So far, spelling was Brian’s fatal flaw. Haleigh could work with that.
Haleigh Berkshire: And yes. You are cleared to attend Stanton’s Valentine’s Day thing Friday night.
Brian Lee: I’ll write that down.
Brian Lee: And phew. I already bought him chocolates.
As she entered her building, Haleigh realized that she was more than halfway through her date-pocalypse. Mike had been number seven. Pépère, Joey, and now Mom had exhausted their options, and Haleigh doubted that Stanton planned to send her on a second date unless things with Brian took a bad turn.
That meant Jack was the only one left. Given how insistent he’d been that she include him, she was surprised he was now dragging his feet.
She toggled open another text chain.
Haleigh Berkshire: Are you still planning to set me up?
Jack must have been looking at his phone because his response was immediate.
Jackson Brooks: Why? Did something happen with Brian?
Haleigh Berkshire: No. You’re just the only one left.
Ellipses danced across the screen, then disappeared. It happened again, and again, and again.
Haleigh was back in her room by the time he answered.
Jackson Brooks: Don’t make a choice yet.
Jackson Brooks: Let me have my chance to win.