Chapter 8
eight
I kicked off my boots, nearly swearing as I did at the immediate relief. My toes were sore and—was that a blister?
I let out a groan.
So much for my attempt to look nice for my first blind date. If dating was anything like this from here on out, I was going to need a serious investment in insoles.
The apartment was quiet, except for the faint hum of the heater and the buzz of a lamp still on in the living room. I half expected Josh to be camped out on the couch again, watching something with the subtitles on.
But it was empty.
Just as I was about to disappear into my room, a door creaked open.
“Bri?” Gina whispered like I was breaking curfew.
In fact, I was early. More than early. I hadn’t made it past that first drink before I made an excuse to get out of here.
“You’re home.”
I sighed. Busted. “Yeah. No one is here.”
She stepped into the hallway, looking toward the living room, as if she noticed it was just them as well. She was already in mismatched pajamas and a silk scrunchie on her wrist. “So? Tell me everything. Was he cute?”
“He was cute,” I admitted, toeing the floorboard near the radiator like it might offer me answers. “Kind of a textbook cute.”
“Ooh, like an investment-banker cute or dog-dad cute?”
“Like you’d easily see him in a dental-commercial cute,” I settled on. Little tooth sparkles and everything.
“That doesn’t sound bad,” she began slowly, smart enough to know that this wasn’t yet the deal-breaker.
“It wasn’t bad,” I said. Then paused. “Not exactly.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t hold back. I know you are waiting to say something, and I can tell it is going to be a doozy. What happened?”
I shrugged off my coat and let it fall onto the chair, collapsing into the corner of the couch. “I think he was rude.”
“To you?”
“No. To the server.”
Her face twisted like I’d handed her a sour candy. “Ugh.”
“I know.”
“What’d he do?”
“He basically waved her off when I was about to order. Told her I wasn’t ready. Then he snapped his fingers at her later. And when I called it out, he said it was fine because he used to work in a restaurant, so he knows how it is.”
“Snapped?” Gina echoed. “Like dog-training snapped?”
“Yep.”
“Oh, hell no.”
“That’s what I thought. But then I kept second-guessing myself because he didn’t do it to me and maybe I was being too sensitive?”
“No. No, no, no.” She waved a finger. “Brielle. Rule number one. You can tell who someone is by how they treat people they don’t need to impress. And if I was that server? Yeesh. He would’ve gotten a piece of my mind because we both know that he wouldn’t have tipped anyway.”
I nodded, but it didn’t feel like it should have mattered this much. It had been one date. A few hours. I shouldn’t have felt this heavy after.
Still, I felt … tired. Like I’d wasted something intangible I couldn’t quite name.
“He kept acting like he was doing me a favor just by being there. But also like I should be impressed by him. Like I was the one who needed to catch up. I don’t know. It was weird.”
Gina sat next to me and leaned her head on my shoulder. “That sucks. But, hey, you wore heels. That’s a big deal. You left the apartment. That’s all a win.”
I snorted. “It’s a low bar.”
“Dating is a low bar. Welcome back to the trenches, babe.” She bumped her shoulder against mine. “Seriously though, you did it. You got through the first one. And the next guy might be a total gem. Or, you know, not a finger-snapper.”
“Small victories,” I murmured.
“And, hey, if nothing else”—she looked up at me with that wicked grin she shared with her brother—“this is going to make great newsletter material.”
I groaned, but even as I rolled my eyes, I felt it. The tiny seed of relief from telling someone.
And somewhere deep beneath the awkward tension and the sore feet was that other feeling again.
The one I kept pretending not to notice whenever I walked past Josh’s room.
The one that bloomed when he asked me how my day was.
That was a problem for later.