Chapter 3 #2
Dolores, apparently curious what was captivating her entire section, had snuck up behind me and heard the whole thing.
Before I knew what was happening, a dozen people standing, sitting, eating, and checking out at the counter had tears in their eyes.
A few women were mimicking using a vibrator in a bowl, while others muttered, “Rabbit pasta,” between breathless laughs.
“The vibrator wasn’t for him!” I shouted, realizing I’d just made things a million times worse as the restaurant devolved into a chorus of amusement.
My voice turned pitiful as I continued, “It was supposed to go next door, but the address got mixed up and—” I groaned. “The point is I’ve already traumatized him once. I doubt he wants to see me again . . . ever.”
“Or you gave him ideas,” Sisi said with a wicked grin. “I bet he’s been thinking about all the ways you could help him stir his own pasta ever since.”
“Oh, God. First library references, now kitchen!” I protested, but I was laughing despite myself. “Please, stab me with that butter knife and end me now.”
“Fine, fine,” Sisi said, wiping her own tears.
It took a moment for everyone to settle and for Sisi to gather herself. When she did, her voice was almost calm again. Almost.
“But seriously, Jer. You need to talk to him. Find out if there’s something there,” she said.
“I . . . I don’t know how to do this,” I said finally. “It’s been years since I’ve asked anyone out. I’m not good at thinking on my feet. Hell, I’m barely good at thinking. You know that.”
“Start small,” Mateo suggested, his hand finding my forearm in a comforting gesture. “Just . . . have a normal conversation with him. See if you click.”
“When and where is this ‘normal conversation’ supposed to happen? It’s not like we work together or anything. I don’t have his number, and I can’t just show up at his door again.”
“Not without a sex toy,” Sisi muttered.
Mateo spit coffee across the table and onto the window that looked out onto the street.
“You two are awful,” I said, grabbing my water glass and downing the whole thing. “And then what? I mean . . . say we talk. If we do click, do I just . . . ask for his number? Call him up like we’re teenagers?”
Sisi’s eyes lit up with what should have been a warning sign, but I wasn’t the best at reading signs. Most days, I barely noticed they existed, but something in her gaze set off alarm bells.
Sisi cocked her head and measured her words. “Oh no, absolutely not. A phone call is so boring, so ordinary—some might say pedestrian.”
“Pedestrian?” I turned the word over, unable to remember what it meant. Was it a kitchen thing, too?
“Yes, boring. You need to make a gesture. You only get asked out the first time once.”
Huh. That math seemed to . . . math . . . or whatever math did when it was right.
“A gesture?” I repeated slowly.
“Something memorable,” she said, leaning forward with sudden intensity. “Something that shows you’ve been paying attention, that you’re not just some random guy asking him out.”
Mateo nodded as she spoke, like her words were prophetic pronouncements from a mountaintop, but I caught the way his lips were twitching. “She’s right. You want to stand out.”
“Think about it,” Sisi continued, her voice taking on that dangerous tone that usually foretold disasters of seismic proportions. “He’s probably had guys just walk up and ask him for coffee before. But you? You have history. You have . . . context.”
The way she and Mateo exchanged a quick glance should have terrified me, but I was too focused on what she was saying to notice. She might’ve had a setup working, but her words rang true.
“What kind of gesture?” I asked.
“Something thoughtful. Something that references your first meeting, maybe?” Sisi’s smile was definitely too innocent now.
“Buy him a dildo,” Mateo offered, earning a slap on the arm and a snort from his coconspirator.
“Or something library themed? You know, play to his interests?” she added.
“That . . . actually makes sense,” I said slowly. “Show him I listened and have been thinking about what he might like.”
“Exactly!” Mateo chirped. “Make it personal.”
“Personal but not creepy,” Sisi added quickly. “Something sweet. Something endearing. The kind of thing that’ll make him smile even if he says no.”
If he says no?
Crap, I hadn’t thought of that.
In all this planning for the perfect invitation, the idea that he might not accept said invitation completely slipped my thought process. Really, really uncomfortable nerves itched their way up my spine and across my skin.
What was I doing?
Why even bother?
For all I knew, Theo was straight and married, and Debbie was his daughter. I was seeing what I wanted to see, not reality.
“Maybe this is a bad idea,” I muttered, my head drooping.
Mateo and Sisi balked in unison. “What?”
“I mean, what if he’s straight or married or straight and married or just not into me or just not into me and married? What if he hated my big words? I tried so hard to impress him. I really did, but I’m so much better with weights than words. Weights don’t talk back.”
Sisi’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.
Mateo just blinked like I’d spoken in Greek or Latin or that weird clicking language aliens spoke on Star Trek.
“Jeremiah,” Sisi began slowly, her tone suddenly serious and sage.
“You are a handsome, wonderful, incredibly sweet man. We love you because you are those things. Anyone who doesn’t see the beauty in you isn’t worth your time.
I don’t care how cute or smart or whatever this Theo is, if he can’t see that you’re the best thing he’s had land on his doorstep in years, well, he’s fucking blind. Screw him.”
“Not literally,” Mateo added. “That might make him think he’d won.”
“Screw . . . wait . . . no.” I threw up my hands. “I just want to have coffee with him, talk to him, see him smile again.”
Sisi sat back and folded her arms. “Jeremiah Mikel, do exactly that.”
I cocked my head. “Do what?”“Be the boy we just saw, right here, at this table. Be that sweet, wonderful man. Theo won’t stand a chance.”
I was pretty sure she was serious and not making fun of me anymore, but with Sisi, you could never be totally sure.
I nodded, already trying to think of ideas.
They were right—a simple phone call would be forgettable, but something thoughtful, something that showed I’d actually been paying attention to who he was . . .
“Okay,” I said finally. “I’ll think of something, some kind of gesture.”
“Yes!” Sisi clapped. “When’s your next school run?”
“Monday, probably. I won’t know until I get to work and pick up my route papers.”
“Perfect,” Mateo said. “But promise you’ll actually do it. No chickening out.”
“I promise,” I said, and I was surprised to find I meant it.
Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time to find out if this thing I’d been building up in my head was real, or if I was just being an idiot who’d been thinking way too much about a cute librarian with messy dark hair and kind eyes.
Mateo raised his mug. “To Jeremiah finally making a move.”
“To finding out if the cute librarian needs help Dewy-ing his decimals,” Sisi added with a smirk. “See what I did there?”
She waggled her brows, and Mateo chuckled.
I had no idea what it meant.
All I knew was I couldn’t stop thinking about Theo and how much I wanted to get this “asking him out” thing over with. Sure, he could say no; but that really was the worst that could happen.
Wasn’t it?