Chapter 11
I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I let Liam’s words sink in.
This is why I don’t date. I have no idea what people wear on dates.
Jade told me to wear a dress, and this is the only winter-appropriate dress I own.
Plus, I thought it looked pretty. I thought the deep red of the dress brought out the slight red hue in my dark brown hair.
I thought the curls I spent hours trying to perfect would pull away from the risque neckline of this dress.
Not that it’s actually risque, it’s just showing more cleavage than I’m usually comfortable showing, but I thought, why not?
I haven’t been on a date in over a year and a half.
I don’t know why I agreed to go on a date with someone she set me up with while she was gone, though. I could have done all this next weekend when she was here to help me.
I knew I should have just gone with the black slacks, cream turtleneck, and brown ankle boots I had laid out on my bed, I think to myself, as I run my sweaty hands down the front of my thighs. Or better yet, I should have just told Jade I wasn’t going on a date.
I look up, trying to keep the tears in, so Liam doesn’t have any more ammunition to make fun of me.
It’s bad enough that every time I just think about maybe putting myself out there, of going on a date or even just talking to a guy, I’m brought back to eighteen-year-old me who threw herself at Liam, of all people, and suffered the rejection of a lifetime.
Since then, I have a crippling fear of being harshly rejected all over again.
And because, to this day, no man even comes close to Liam, my subconscious tells me.
No, I answer right back. Liam holds no power over me anymore.
Then why am I, once again, standing here, holding back tears at the cruel words he hurled at me?
I shake my head as I turn around to make my way back to my bedroom. I know I promised Jade I’d wear a dress, but I just can’t at this point. It’s already going to be awkward enough; I might as well just be comfortable.
“Where are you going?” Liam asks, as I walk by him, still sitting on the couch with Gigi. I ignore him, close my bedroom door behind me, and lean against it.
I will not cry. I will not cry, I chant to myself.
Why is it that this man can make me feel like complete shit.
My pity party ends when my phone beeps, telling me I have a text.
I pull it out of the black purse I have hanging off my shoulder.
Right away, I see that I not only have a text from an unknown number, but also that it’s six forty in the evening, meaning I only have five minutes to change my outfit.
Unknown:
Hi Sloane, it’s Kyle. I got your number from Jade. I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to make our date tonight. I just can’t see myself dating a girl who’s taller than me. I hope you understand.
Are you fucking kidding me? I push off my bedroom door with a huff as I stomp my foot with zero care in the world that Liam can probably hear me.
He’s going to love hearing that my date blew me off five minutes before he was supposed to pick me because I’m one inch taller than him!
Seriously, what did I do in a past life?
I’d love to say Kyle is the worst, but there’s a reason I haven’t been on a date in over eighteen months.
After what happened with Liam, there was Keith.
I met Keith my freshman year of university.
He was two years ahead of me, but had recently changed his major so he was taking first year classes.
We went on a grand total of five dates. Only, on the fifth date, his wife showed up. Enough said about Keith.
After Keith, there was Jesse. Thankfully, we only went on one date. Unfortunately, Jesse couldn’t understand how buying me Wendy’s didn’t mean I was going to sleep with him.
After Jesse, there was Riley. Let’s just say, I’m never dating a guy younger than me ever again.
I met Riley when I was in my first year of my master’s degree and he was in his second year of his bachelor’s degree.
I went on three too many dates with him.
He had to ask his mom permission for everything, and I mean everything.
On our last date, he called her to ask her if he liked mushrooms. Like, what the hell?
“Are you okay in there, Sloane? Gigi and I are getting a little worried; we can hear you stomping around,” Liam says with a knock on the door, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.
Ripping open the door, I come face to face with him on his crutches and Gigi sitting beside him on the floor, the traitor. “I’m fine. Turns out I’m not going on a date tonight,” I tell him as I go to close the door, but his crutch stops me.
“Perfect. Put on some sweats and come join me in the living room. My pizza should be here any minute and I’ll queue up Madagascar on Netflix,” he says, before turning around and hobbling back to the living room, Gigi right on his heels. With an eye roll, I close the door behind him.
I drop down on my bed, debating if I should take Liam up on his offer or just hibernate in my room until I hear him go to bed. My internal battle doesn’t last long, though, as my stomach starts growling at the sound of the doorbell ringing, announcing that Liam’s pizza is here.
I yank my sweater dress over my head with a huff, dropping it to the floor without a second look, as if it’s at fault for another dud of a date.
I walk away from the offending garment and make my way to my closet to put on an old crewneck sweatshirt and leggings, grabbing a scrunchy off my dresser to throw my curled hair into a messy bun on top of my head.
My last stop before joining Liam on the couch is the bathroom.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I wonder why I even put this much effort into a blind date.
I spent a good forty-five minutes drawing on the perfect winged eyeliner, yet here I am, scrubbing it off with a makeup wipe without even having left the house.
Never again. Jade has officially lost the privilege of setting me up on dates.
With a final glance in the mirror, and a deep exhale, I mentally prepare myself to join Liam on the couch, just knowing he’s going to have some wise-ass comment about my failure of a date.
True to his word, he has Madagascar paused on the TV, the lights off, and an entire roll of paper towel on the coffee table by an open box of pizza. He hears me join him, since he presses play on the remote, but he doesn’t say a word.
It was my favorite movie growing up. My dad, Ronan, or Liam would always put it on when I was sick or upset. I’m not gonna lie and say it hasn’t become a guilty pleasure as I’ve gotten older—I’ve watched it more times than I can count—after every exam session, bad date, when I’m missing my mom.
I can’t believe he remembered, I think to myself, turning a little in my seat to look at him.
To really take him in. I haven’t allowed myself to truly see Liam Jones as an adult.
He still looks exactly the same, or the same way he’s always looked to me.
He still has bright but guarded green eyes.
The same barely-there smile that he releases when he thinks no one is looking.
But now he has a few laugh lines, or in his case, frown lines, around his eyes.
His hair is a little shorter, but just as thick and dark as it was when I was a kid.
And like seven years ago, I still want to run my fingers through it.
“Are you done staring at me?” Liam asks without looking at me, making me blush at being caught.
“I wasn’t staring,” I answer, turning my attention back to the movie.
“Yes, you were,” he says back. “Just ask what you want to ask.” How he knew I wanted to ask him something is beyond me, but I don’t think he would appreciate me asking what happened to him for him to actually be nice to me today.
“Why did you put this movie on?” I ask him.
“Because it’s your favorite,” he answers immediately, not having to think.
“No, it was my favorite.”
“Sloane, it’s your favorite movie,” he says right back with finality.
It is my favorite movie, but he doesn’t need to know that. And he doesn’t need to act like he still knows me. He doesn’t. I’m not a child anymore.
“Sloane, you haven’t changed that much since the last time I saw you,” he continues.
And the punches just keep rolling in today. Please, tell me what I did in a past life!
Turning my body so I’m completely facing him, I cross my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but he beats me to it.
Again, without turning his attention from the TV, I hear him mumble something along the lines of God damn woman under his breath before he starts saying, “You still say you drink your coffee black, but I’ve spotted you putting sugar in it.
You still can’t go to bed without taking a shower, no matter how late it is. ”
Explain to me how people can sleep without showering before?
“In the twenty-four years I’ve known you, I’ve yet to see you wear matching socks,” he continues.
“Grilled cheese is still your favorite meal.” Before I can interject on that one, he turns slightly to me, giving me a look that begs for me to tell him he’s wrong.
“Before you say it isn’t, I’ve seen you eat six grilled cheeses, and I’ve only been here a week and a half. Shall I go on?” He finishes smugly.
Okay, so I haven’t changed that much in the last seven years. Maybe not outwardly, at least. Do I still have the same habits that I did as a kid? Yes, but inside, where it really matters, I am not the same little Liam-obsessed Sloane I was.
So, without saying a word, I turn my attention back to the movie, letting him think he knows me like he did seven years ago.