Chapter Eight
Eight
The next morning I sat at my desk and responded to blog comments while Mia and Kitty gnawed on strawberry Pop-Tarts and watched TV.
It didn’t take too long, seeing as I only had about thirty regular readers.
Once I finished with comments on my “Kiss a Stranger” post, I clicked over to read the comments beneath my post about the skinny-dipping incident.
XxSeaSunStylexx: Jo, take it from me, you do NOT want to hook up with your neighbor. Go find that handsome stranger from the bar!
XOJo: @XxSeaSunStylexx You’re right about one thing: I won’t be hooking up with my neighbor. But I won’t be hooking up with Hot Guy from the Bar, either. Sorry, ladies!
Something I hadn’t mentioned on the blog? That the men in these two incidents were the same guy, who was also my coworker.
UnicornStew: Why choose one, when you can have both?
Nina, of course. Why she felt the need to comment on the blog, let alone read it, was beyond me. My reply?
XOJo: @UnicornStew Why choose one when I can have none?
I shut my laptop with a sigh. Though I’d been blogging for almost a year now, I didn’t promote the blog on social media or have a newsletter.
I didn’t even have a Facebook or Instagram account, which Nina said was ridiculous.
She’d installed the apps on my phone and had logged into her accounts on it.
Why? I had no idea. But it came in handy for stalking guests.
I didn’t hate social media, and I wasn’t even an introvert, but I’d always kept my circle small and my feelings private.
The only people I kept in contact with were the people I already talked to.
Writing on a public forum was different, though.
Starting the blog had been a way to force myself out of my comfort zone and make my life into something worth documenting.
I’d never imagined anyone would actually read it.
What would my thirty regular followers—not including Nina—think if they saw me now?
Hunched over my computer desk, reality TV blaring, my living room cluttered with Mia’s and Kitty’s dirty clothes.
What did I want from blogging anyway? I’d never thought about what would happen once my thirtieth birthday came and went.
I went to the kitchen and grabbed the last Pop-Tart before plopping down on the couch between Mia and Kitty.
All yesterday I’d thought about texting Alex to say I’d changed my mind about carpooling, but he didn’t know I had his number, and I wasn’t about to waltz over to his condo and bail on him in person.
Anything I said now would make it seem like I was trying to avoid him (which I was), but I also didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
If he knew I was avoiding him, then he’d want to know why, and he might conclude that the very fact I was avoiding him was evidence I had some sort of attraction to him (which I didn’t, beyond a natural pheromonal attraction, probably because he smelled so good).
So really, the best course of action was to continue with the plan: both the carpooling and the not being attracted to him.
“Jo, chill out.” Mia nudged my leg with her foot.
I set my feet firmly on the tile, not realizing I’d been bouncing my legs up and down.
Kitty set down one of my father’s poetry books and gave me a sidelong glance. “Are you on cocaine?”
I nearly spit out my Pop-Tart. “What? Why would I be on cocaine? Why do you even know about cocaine?”
Kitty shrugged. “I had to do a project on Robert Louis Stevenson this year. Wanna know how he wrote Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in six days? Cocaine. That’s how.”
“Well, I’m not on drugs. But I am worried about what you’re learning in school.”
“Then why are you acting all weird?”
“I’m not acting weird.” I took another bite of my Pop-Tart, and crumbs rained down on my shirt. “Probably too much caffeine and sugar. Do you know how awful these are for you? You shouldn’t be eating them.”
“I thought there was no such thing as too much caffeine,” Mia said. “And don’t blame the Pop-Tarts on us. You’re the one who bought them. Seriously, you eat like a fifth grader. It’s concerning.”
I eyed the time on my phone—8:40 a.m. I looked out the window into the parking lot.
Alex’s minivan (yes, the guy drove a minivan, and for some reason I’d agreed to ride to work in it) was in its usual spot.
I turned back to the TV. The girls were watching a baking competition about long-distance couples who’d never met having to cook in their significant other’s kitchen before meeting them IRL for the first time.
It was amusing, but I had too many questions rolling around in my mind to focus on it.
Was Alex the kind of guy who believed you were only on time if you were early?
Or was he more of an I’m five minutes away but actually haven’t left my house yet person?
What were we supposed to talk about during the twenty-minute drive to the marina?
Did he listen to podcasts? Was he a silent driver? Would he want to talk?
So maybe caffeine and sugar weren’t my problem. Maybe I was nervous. But it wasn’t because of any attraction I might or might not have felt toward him.
“So what are you girls up to today?” I asked, trying to direct my thoughts elsewhere.
“Kitty and I are throwing a kegger in the activities room with Belva and Old Gary,” Mia said, her expression unnervingly serious.
“You said we’d be planning the decorations for the movie marathon!” Kitty exclaimed.
Mia rolled her eyes. “We’re obviously still doing that, dingus. I was just messing with Jo.”
Decorations? I didn’t know there’d be more prep work than picking out which movies we’d watch and buying some popcorn.
“I know you’re teasing me about the kegger, but I still don’t like it.” I took the last bite of my Pop-Tart, and a knock on the door startled the three of us.
I forgot all about the movie marathon at the sight of Alex’s van running in the parking lot with no one in the driver’s seat.
I peeked past the plants on my windowsill, and sure enough, there he was, hands in his pockets as he stood before my condo door.
So Alex was an eight-forty-five-means-eight-forty-five kind of guy.
“Is that Greyson’s dad?” Mia’s eyes widened. “Is he picking you up for work?” She grabbed me by the shoulders. “Is that why you’ve been a total weirdo all morning?”
“Don’t,” I said.
Kitty looked between the two of us. “Why would she be weird about that?”
I tugged myself from Mia’s grasp and slipped on my shoes, getting as much distance between me and the girls as possible.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Mia stretched her legs out on the couch, filling the space I’d left between her and Kitty.
Kitty shoved her sister’s feet away. “Isn’t what obvious?”
“You know what they say, Jo. First comes carpooling, then comes marriage, then comes—”
“Shh! What if he hears you?” How had I suddenly found myself in the middle of a CW teen drama?
“Jo likes Greyson’s dad?” Kitty’s eyes widened. She turned around on the couch and gawked at Alex through the window.
“No. I do not like Alex. Not in the way you’re suggesting, anyway.”
Mia smirked. “Then why do you care what he hears?”
I sighed, exasperated. This was very like Mia, who, even as a kid, was clear-eyed and perceptive. Not that she was right about everything, because she wasn’t. But she always knew exactly what buttons to push—enough to get you annoyed but not angry.
“We’re coworkers, and I don’t want him thinking I like him because it could make things weird. We’re just saving money and lowering our carbon footprint.”
Mia nodded seriously. “The couple that cuts emissions together stays together.”
“You’re going to make me late!” I snatched up my purse and keys. “Don’t say anything.”
“Hi,” Alex said, his face lighting up into a smile when I opened the door.
“Hi.” There was that annoying fluttering in my chest again.
Pheromonal chest fluttering, of course. Because he smelled good.
Not that I could smell him right now. “Sorry I took so long. I didn’t hear you.
” I hoped I sounded like a normal human being, and not an almost thirty-year-old who had just been bullied by two teenage girls.
“You have a nice door. I don’t mind standing outside it. You ready?”
“Yup.” I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. Mia and Kitty’s laughter floated through the window.
“Sounds like a party in there.”
“You have no idea.” I followed him to the van, feeling like a girl being picked up for a date in the aforementioned CW teen drama.
Though girls in CW teen dramas probably didn’t get picked up for dates in minivans.
I watched Alex as he walked ahead of me.
He wore a variation of the same outfit he always did: a white tee and slim-fit chef pants.
But there was something different about him today.
The hair, I realized as he got into the driver’s seat.
His tousled waves were pushed off his forehead, slightly neater than usual.
They wouldn’t be that way for long, though.
His hair had a habit of getting progressively messier as he cooked.
By the end of the day he’d look like he’d been standing in tropical storm–force winds.
“You didn’t have to come to the door.”
Alex shrugged. “I didn’t want to honk, and I don’t have your number yet.”
“Right. I can put it in your phone.” The last thing I needed was him seeing I already had his, especially since the contact name was still Hot Guy from the Bar.
We got into the van, and I was relieved to hear the sounds of unfamiliar electropop. So he was a music person. That would lessen the pressure to fill the silence.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He took a stainless steel tumbler from the cup holder between us and passed it to me. “Extra cream, extra sugar, right? I think that’s how you make it on the boat.”
I took the coffee from him. Its warmth spread up my hands and through my arms. “Yeah, thanks.”