Chapter 14
Libby
Idon’t know whether to be annoyed with this Poppy person or whether to give her a metaphoric high five. Either way, the timing was perfect.
And a little upsetting.
Because at the end of the day, I’m not just being paranoid or clingy. The man is literally barging into my shop, tongue fucking me into an oblivion, and then moving onto the next. Which is bullshit.
And that’s also why I am fucking with him right now.
And doing a good job of it, if I do say so myself.
After the book club is over, I meet Joni for dinner.
Apparently her husband and all the littles are having a Mario Kart marathon, and she is one slippery banana away from losing her mind.
It works for me because I am one hard hat clad man away from losing mine.
We meet at an all you can indulge in sushi bar which is beyond perfect. Only after our cocktails hit the table and our boat of sushi rolls is ordered do we dig in, both to the food and the gossip.
“So, this dick barges into your shop, unannounced, and proceeds to–” she widens her eyes to fill in the blank, “but before finishing the job, he gets a call–”
“From another woman,” I add.
“And then just zips up and leaves? Jesus. Like that is bottom rung low.”
“I know!” I say as I dress a tuna roll with ginger and extra wasabi and pop it in my mouth. “All I can say is I am done with him.”
“Are you? For real this time? Because you did say that the first time.”
I nod my head and swallow, the chopsticks poised in my fingers as I point at her. “Oh, believe me. I am done with a capital D.”
“Because he withheld his capital D. Such a…”
“Capital D,” I say, and we both laugh.
At least, I suppose I am able to laugh. Even though my heart needs a little more vodka to fully feel better about the situation. Joni, being my best friend, can tell.
“I think what you need is a rebound.”
“What?” I bark out.
“Yeah. Hear me out. Another guy is definitely the perfect remedy here.”
“But I don’t want to get laid,” I state just as the waiter walks by. I smile, blush, and go on. “I wasn’t even looking for what happened last night. Which is why it was so annoying.”
“I’m not talking about getting laid. I’m talking about getting even,” she waggles her eyebrows, and I take another bite, chewing thoughtfully.
“I’m listening.”
“Match with people on the app. Don’t make any real plans, just talk enough to keep them interested. And then when your phone is blowing up, you’ll get Dax’s attention. And since he’s a man, he will get jealous.”
“So, fight fire with fire,” I say.
“Pretty much.”
“But what about the guys I start talking to? I don’t want to lead anyone on. And I’m not looking to go on another dating app date, that’s for sure.”
“Okay so maybe don’t use the app. Find someone to exchange numbers with organically.”
I nearly choke on my edamame. “You mean approach a person…in person?”
“It’s not that crazy,” she laughs. “I met my husband that way, you know.”
“You met him in high school,” I correct her. “In detention if I remember right.”
“Forced proximity at its very finest,” she reminisces.
“And as romantic as that is, I’m not in high school anymore so my odds of meeting a man in the wild are low.”
“Um, hi?” Joni waves around us.
I snort. “What? Here? Most of the people here are coupled off. And I doubt single guys go to all you can eat sushi joints to pick up chicks.” I shake my head, taking another bite.
“What about manbun over there?” she asks, lowering her voice.
“Who?”
“End of the bar. Eleven O clock.”
I glance up over her shoulder, unsure how Joni even saw him at the angle she’s sitting. “Christ, Jo. How did you–”
“I’m married, not dead, Libby. I clocked that man the moment we walked in. He’s been sitting there sipping on an old fashioned the entire time. No food. No date. Waiting.”
“That makes him sound like a serial killer,” I say, my eyes flickering over to him a couple times. Each time, I notice he is in fact looking our way.
“Not every man is a serial killer. And it doesn’t really matter why he’s here anyways. What matters is that you get a guy’s number and get him chatting so every time you see a chick’s name pop up on his phone, he sees a guy’s name on your phone.”
I glance over again. He’s still looking. Not in a creepy way but more like he recognizes me. And as he takes a sip of his drink, I can’t help but feel like I know him too. Though I’m not sure how.
Either way I shake my head. “I think I’m good,” I say. “If Dax is going to be a jerk, let him be a jerk. He’s just a jerk that I’m not going to involve myself with.”
And I mean it. Playing games is not my style. Especially not with people’s hearts. I’m going to move on. No rearview mirror. No second thoughts. No regrets. And there’s nothing he, or his tongue, can do to change my opinion of him.