23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Amy
“I’m taking you out,” Parker says to me as he pops a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Like, now. So, go get ready.”
I raise a brow, still half-asleep in my pajamas and leaning against his granite countertops. “It’s only eleven.”
“Yeah, it’s a lunch date.”
I furrow my brow, but as I open my mouth, trying to understand what the heck is happening, he stops me.
“It’s a mock date. You said you need help spotting the red flags. I spent a lot of time thinking about how to do that, and I decided I’m gonna take you on a mock date—and treat you the way you should be treated.” He reaches into his black hoodie pocket. “I also made flashcards.”
I giggle. “What for?”
“It’s called Spot the Red Flag .”
“Wow, you really went all out.” I shake my head at him. “That’s sweet of you.”
His facial expression shifts. “I’m just being practical. Plus, I’m tired of seeing you blindly follow any guy who shows you some interest.”
“That’s rude,” I snap, suddenly offended. “I don’t blindly follow anyone. I mean, I ... I think I could walk away from someone.”
“Yeah, once everything goes wrong.” Parker scoffs. “Please just let me help you learn how to spot the red flags before you go on another coffee date with some creep.”
I sigh. “Okay, fine. I’ll go get ready.”
“You could just wear your pajamas. I kind of dig them.”
My face heats up as I glance down at my white silk long-sleeved pajama set. “You’re making fun of me.”
Parker smirks. “Am I?”
“I don’t know.” I groan, tilting my head back and stalking toward the spare room. I hear Parker laughing behind me and I can’t help but smile, even if he is the most frustrating man I’ve ever met.
My eyes shift to the bag I packed in one big hurry last night. I sift through the contents, pulling out a pair of black mom jeans and a red sweater. I pull out my Vans as well.
Hopefully, Parker’s taking me on a casual lunch date .
My heart flutters in my chest as I think about going on a date with Parker. All the feelings that I’ve been trying to forget seem to bubble to the surface. I sigh, pushing my hair out of my eyes.
We’re just friends.
I hurriedly get dressed and fix my hair, opting for just a little mascara instead of a full face. Besides, this is just a mock date, as Parker said. It’s not serious.
I slip out of the bedroom and glance around, wondering where he went. Granted, this apartment is big enough that it wouldn’t be hard to slip away.
Parker’s bedroom door opens before I can go looking, and out he steps in a pair of dark wash jeans and a black pullover. His dirty blond hair is styled, giving him an edgy vibe with the shadow of stubble on his jaw.
Ugh. He’s so handsome.
“You look beautiful,” he says.
And my mouth drops open. “What?”
“That’s what a guy should tell you,” he says quickly, his eyes dropping from mine. “Come on. Let’s go. I should be picking you up, but we’re starting in the same place, so that makes it a little difficult.”
“Why should you be picking me up? I thought men shouldn’t know where I live.” I try to steady my uneven heartbeat as he offers me his arm—right here in the hallway.
“Yeah, well, assuming you’ve thoroughly vetted the guy, he should at least offer to pick you up. That’s what gentlemen do. ”
I slide my hand around his forearm, trying to ignore the excitement that comes with such a simple move.
Why didn’t Brad make me feel any of these feelings?
“I booked us a table at a nice lunch place a few blocks away. I’m happy to drive us there unless you have your boot and would prefer to walk?”
I glance down. “I took the boot off when my apartment flooded and left it there.”
“Okay, we should probably drop by and get it. You’re not really supposed to be walking without it yet...”
“It’s okay. My ankle doesn’t hurt that badly,” I reason. “And trying to find parking in this city is a nightmare. We can just walk.”
In truth, my ankle is a little achy, but in the mess of my flooded apartment, I didn’t think about grabbing my boot—and I only had to wear it for a little longer, anyway.
It’ll be fine.
He sighs. “Fine. I’ll just carry you back if it starts hurting.”
“No, you won’t.” I burst into a giggle, shaking my head as he leads me to the front door. “Besides, that walking boot was doing more harm than good, I think.”
“Whatever you say, Amy.” Parker hands me my purse, which I set on the counter, and then opens the door. “After you.”
“Thanks,” I say, stepping out into the hallway.
“How did you sleep?”
“Um, good,” I answer as he taps the down button for the elevator. “How did you sleep?”
“Well”—he guides me into the elevator, never letting my arm go—“when I did sleep, I slept well. But I had to help a damsel in distress last night. Her apartment flooded. Poor thing.”
I can’t hold back a giggle, shaking my head at him. “How chivalrous.”
“Why, thank you, Amy.” He shoots me a wink that makes something flutter in my stomach. “That’s sweet of you to say.”
This version of Parker is both hilarious and charming—and I can’t stop smiling.
“Let’s discuss red flags,” Parker begins, setting his fork down.
I nod, having enjoyed my plate of Fettuccine Alfredo and our conversation at the small but chic Italian place. “Okay, let’s do it.”
He pulls out a stack of index cards and eyes me. “The goal is to spot the red flag—and then tell me why it’s a red flag.”
“I can do that.”
He chuckles. “Yeah ... we’ll see.” Parker takes a sip of his water and focuses on the first index card. “You’re on a date at an upscale restaurant that he chose. He works on Wall Street. At the end of the evening, he tells the waitress that you’re going to split the bill with him.”
“Uh...” My voice trails off as I replay what he just said. “Is the red flag the fact that he didn’t ask me where I wanted to eat? ”
Parker lets out a sigh. “Try again.”
“He works on Wall Street?”
Parker’s shoulders fall. “No, it’s the fact that he didn’t ask about the two of you splitting the bill, he just decided that’s what he was going to do. It should’ve been a discussion—and if he chose a high-end, expensive restaurant, he should’ve been willing to pay for the whole thing. Honestly, a guy should always pay for the first date. But still, if he’s talking about how much money he makes on Wall Street and then decides without your input to split the bill, that’s a red flag.”
“Hmm.” I mull it over, taking another bite of pasta. “I guess that’s true.”
“Yeah, it is. On to the next.” Parker sifts through the index cards and then stops on one. “Okay, how about this one? You’re on a walk with your date. He grabs your hand and then tells you that you look great for your age.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” I say, smiling. “No red flags there.”
Parker just stares at me for a moment and then shakes his head. “Yes, there is.”
“What’s wrong with holding someone’s hand and giving them a compliment?”
He sighs. “Amy, the compliment is backhanded. It’s equivalent to a guy saying that he’s never liked short women, but he thinks you’re attractive. ”
“I don’t understand. That’s a compliment...” However, the more I think about it, the more I see the negative indications. Maybe it would cause me to doubt myself a little...
“You’re out on a date and he checks his phone every few minutes, taking multiple calls with no explanation. He tells you he had a great time and wants to see you again soon.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Um ... is that another backhanded compliment or something?”
“No, it’s the fact that he was checking his phone over and over.”
“Maybe it was an emergency?” I counter.
“But he didn’t say that, did he? He just kept checking it and taking calls... He should be giving you all of his attention on a date—the whole time. And trust me, if he’s willing to act like that on the first date, it’ll only get worse.”
I let out a groan. “I’m so terrible at this.”
“You are.” Parker chuckles, but when his eyes meet mine, they soften. “But a lot of people overlook red flags. You get caught up in the moment, and you just look right past them. My mom always dated guys with so many red flags. She only focused on the flowers, sweet words, and whatever else they did for her. But the honeymoon phase only lasts so long, and then you’re left with the real person.”
“Dating shouldn’t be this hard,” I mutter, folding my napkin and setting it beside my nearly empty plate. “Why can’t people just be nice to each other?”
“Just because someone has red flags doesn’t mean they aren’t nice . It just means they have problems. ”
“Everyone has problems.”
“Yeah...” Parker holds my gaze again and then lets out a soft sigh. “But you should find someone as close to perfect as possible. That’s the kind of guy you deserve, Amy. You’re nearly perfect, yourself.”
My brows shoot up. “Wait what? You think that about me ? I thought you couldn’t stand me when we first met.”
He shrugs. “We didn’t see eye-to-eye. You’re a hopeless romantic, and I’m just ... not. But you know, maybe after Valentine’s Day, you’ll find someone.”
I giggle. “You just want me to go to that jazz concert with you.”
“Ha, no.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t want to lose the bet ... or pay for your overpriced concert tickets.”
I smirk. “They’re worth every penny.”
“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite song?”
“Um...” My voice trails off. “You’re going to laugh, but it’s a ballad called ‘Falling for You When I Didn’t Want To’ . ”
He chuckles. “It sounds cheesy.”
“It is cheesy,” I admit, smiling so much that my cheeks hurt. “I think that’s probably why I like it so much.”
Before we can continue, the waitress reappears with the check. Parker hands her his card, never even giving me the opportunity to ask if we can split it.
As she walks away, he meets my gaze. “What?”
“You didn’t ask if I wanted to split the bill. ”
“We’re on a date, Amy. Well, a fake date, but it’s still a date. I’m paying for it. And I’m buying your coffee after this, too,” he adds. “I know you’re into that.”
I smile. “So, we’re getting coffee as well?”
“Absolutely.”
The waitress returns with the receipt and his card, and as he signs for it, I can’t help but admire this side of him. Parker’s not nearly as closed-off as he was the first time we met, and I swear in the last few days he’s become even more handsome ... if that’s even possible.
Parker looks up. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say softly.
I just hope I can find someone like you.