Chapter 3 #2
"You have?" I lick my lips nervously.
"Yeah. I've been thinking about tonight and how much fun we’re going to have."
“I am looking forward to it, as well.”
“I was thinking that you should wear—”
"Hey, can I call you back in a little bit? I am actually working right now."
"I guess." He sounds annoyed. “But don’t leave it too long.”
“Hmm, okay.” I hang up the phone and frown. “I think he was going to tell me what to wear.” I make a face. “That should be romantic, but I’m finding him a bit controlling and annoying.” I let out a long sigh. “I should still go, right?”
“Of course!” Brielle nods enthusiastically. “He’s probably just nervous on the phone.”
"I guess so.” I walk over to the now-shining glass mirror and stare at my reflection. My green eyes stare back at me. They look tired. My blonde hair looks limp and flat, and my face needs a good scrubbing. I look like I am thirty-five and not the twenty-five that I really am.
I bite down on my lower lip. I’m exhausted, tired, anxious, and nervous. I'm not going to allow myself to cry because I am lucky that my aunt and cousin took me in and that I have a job.
It wasn't their fault that my parents died in a drunk-driving accident, caused by the other driver. My heart aches as I think about them.
I miss them. I can't remember them that well, but I miss them with everything in my heart and soul. I wonder how different my life would be if they were still alive, if they were here to take care of me. I wonder if I would’ve been able to go to college.
I wonder if I would’ve been able to travel, or if I would've had designer handbags or clothes that weren't from the secondhand store.
And I wonder if I'd actually be able to tell Charlotte off and stick up for myself and my friends.
Will I ever be brave enough to tell her that I feel like she took advantage of me, that I feel like she didn't really love me, and that she used me?
But those are things I keep hidden and secret inside, because I already know that Katherine and Brielle don't like Charlotte.
And I am determined to be positive. At the end of the day, Katherine and Brielle have families that love them and would support them if they lost their jobs, but I have no one.
I mean, I have Katherine and Brielle, but they have nothing to support me with. They have no savings either.
I rub my forehead and play with my hair.
Life hasn't gone my way so far, but I know it could be worse.
Maybe one day, I'll meet a tall, dark, and handsome stranger, and he'll sweep me off my feet, and all of this will seem like a bad dream.
Good things do happen to good people sometimes.
Though it often feels like nothing good happens to me.
"Hey," Brielle says, walking up to me and placing a hand on my shoulder. "You okay?”
Katherine walks over to my other side and wraps her arm around my waist and squeezes me in tight. I nod and lower my eyes and take a deep breath.
"We're in this together," she says softly. "We're best friends. We're all broke, but one day, one of us will make it, and then we'll have to be there for each other."
I smile at her. "What did I do in life to be able to have the two of you as best friends?" I will not cry.
"I don't know. You obviously did something absolutely amazing, because we are gems."
“You are," I say, laughing, and then I take a deep breath.
I look out the window and relax. It's a beautiful day, and this property is as picturesque as an impressionist painting by Monet.
It's only a small building consisting of five bedrooms, but all have a view of the countryside.
If you look out the windows, you can gaze upon numerous green fields and beautiful rambling pink, red, white, and yellow wildflowers.
And if you venture to the back, there's a pool that is so inviting I want to jump into it every time I see it.
I stare out at the sign of the B I just do.
Five, four, three, two...
“Hi, Willow, is that you?” His voice is higher-pitched than it had sounded on the phone, but I assume that he’s as nervous as I am. I look up with a welcoming smile on my face and keep it plastered as my eyes meet his.
“Yes,” I say simply, though I’m not sure I really want to admit that.
Clark Kent is cute-ish. He looks like his photos in the furthest sense that one can look like their photos, but still be dissimilar.
He’s skinnier than I thought, paler, his eyes look sunken in, and his hair is a greasy mess.
What gets me the most is that he’s wearing a cape and a Superman T-shirt.
It’s not a look I would normally go for.
“Wow, you’re hot.” He grins and takes a seat next to me.
His eyes look me up and down. “Like totally bangable.” He slams his fist down on the table and laughs.
“Thank you, Jesus. I am now a believer.” He grins at me, and I notice that he’s chewing a wad of gum.
“You won’t believe how many women I meet who are filter queens. ” He shakes his head.
“Oh?”
“Yup. They knock off fifty pounds and ten years with those things.” He chuckles. “When you show up to meet them, they end up looking like the Bride of Chucky.”
“Oh.” My heart races as he cackles. “That’s unfortunate.”
“I was dating someone recently, and she broke my heart.” He grimaces. “But I think you will help me get over her very easily.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Heartbreak is never fun.
” And never something you want to talk about on a first date, though I don’t really care.
He could tell me he just had sex with a hooker, and I wouldn’t care.
I know without a doubt in my mind that Clark Kent is not my match and will never be my match.
And all I want to do is go home, take a long bath in Epsom salts, and read a book, or maybe watch a TV show.
I am pretty sure there is a new season of Love is Blind that has come out, and it always makes me feel better about my own love life to see other women going through the trenches with men.
“Do you prefer up or down?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. “Stand up for me a sec.”
“Excuse me?”
“Stand up for me and do a spin.” He winks and then licks his lips. “Wondering if you have thick thighs and a big ass.”
“I don’t think I’m going to do that.” I grab my phone and grip it. Neither Brielle nor Katherine would believe how absolutely shitty my date is going. I half wonder if I am being punked.
“So, up or down?” He leans forward.
“Up or down what?”
“Top or bottom.” He licks his lips. Now I know what he’s talking about, and I don’t care about being rude anymore. This is not how I’d expected this date to go. This is not the first day of the rest of my life whatsoever.
“I’m sorry, but don’t get me twisted.” I fold my arms and stand up. “I met you for a date and not a hookup. I don’t appreciate these questions.”
“Girl, I’m just kidding. It was a test to see if you’re easy.” He jumps up, and I see a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “You know me, we’ve been talking for a while. I just like to joke.”
“I guess.” Though I can’t think of any instances where he’s made me laugh.
“Think of me as the better-looking Jim Carey. Though you’re not quite Cameron Diaz.” He laughs like he thinks he’s being funny. “But you could be her second cousin or something.” He stares at my feet and the shoes I’m wearing. “No heels?”
“For a coffee shop date?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Also, are we getting coffee or pastries or anything?” I ask him, ‘cause I never heard of a date where you just sit there.
“Yeah, sure. I’d love a black coffee and a blueberry muffin.” He stares at me and takes a seat. I wait for him to ask me what I want, but he grabs his phone and starts typing something.
“Is that it?” I ask. “Don’t you want to know what I want?”
“I don’t work here.” He looks up with a frown. “Why would I want to know?”
“But aren’t you—” I stop and sigh. I think about just walking out of the store. “Am I paying for this?”
“I mean, don’t you women want equality and feminism and all that?” He looks up from his phone, and I look down at the screen. He’s on the dating app. The audacity of the situation makes me want to laugh.
“You invited me out,” I say, and then shake my head. “What’s your real name, by the way?”
“I don’t give that out right away.” He shrugs. “I’m kinda a big deal.” He winks. “In many ways. I don’t want women using me for what I can offer them. It’s happened too many times to me. I have to protect myself and my family.”
“Huh?”
“When you’re wealthy...” He looks down at his phone, and I watch him swipe right a couple of times, like it’s no big deal. “I’m thirsty.”
“Umm...” I lick my lips nervously. “I think that this isn’t going to—”
“Oh, look.” He holds up his phone and shows me a photo of a tabby cat with vivid green eyes. “This is Prissy.”
“Prissy?”
“Yeah. Your new daughter.”
I rub the side of my face and press my lips together. This has to be a joke. A big fat joke. The universe is laughing at me. Telling me that just when I thought my life couldn’t get any worse, I was wrong.
“I, uh, I gotta go. Emergency.” I wave awkwardly at him and hurry out of the coffee shop, running down the street as fast as I can and rounding the corner all without looking back.
I slow down after about five minutes and stop next to a tree and take some deep breaths.
I am exhausted and winded, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I do neither and instead pull out my phone and text Katherine and Brielle.
GET the wine out. I’ll be home in ten minutes. The date was a BUST.
I try to orient myself so I can find my car and hear my phone beep. I smile, thinking it’s one of my friends, but when I see Clark Kent’s number, I frown, though I can’t stop myself from opening the text.
So sorry that an emergency came up. It was great meeting you, sexy. Maybe next date at my place? I’ll make you dinner. You bring the steaks, and I’ll make the sides. Let me know when you’re free.
“How about never,” I mumble and delete the text. The man is delusional. Absolutely delusional.
Beep.
Missing you already.
I want to throw up.