Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I didn’t realize that entering this establishment with Xander would turn my desperate attempt at getting as much caffeine into my body as humanly possible into date material, but let the record show, Xander and I are officially on a date. Dr. Waitley, are you seeing this?
After Ben finally wired us up after our shenanigans, Xander clocked the stressed-out expression on my face.
He asked, “What’s up?” to which I said, “So … dating?” to which he said, “Ash, you do know how to date, right?” to which I lied and said, “I do,” to which Xander called out my bluff and said, “Dating isn’t fucking. ”
That’s when I challenged him and said, “Oh yeah, what do you know about dating?” And that’s when I got the full rundown about what dating actually entails.
Apparently, to quote Xander, dating is about “spending time together.”
Groan.
“Getting to know each other.”
Sigh.
“Having fun together.”
Ew.
And “learning about each other’s goals and dreams.”
Thank you, Patron Saint of Dates. It sounds fucking horrible.
And yet, I’m on a date. And not just any date. One where I didn’t have to spend hours sweating under the intense lights of my bathroom only to fuck up my winged eyeliner using the kohl jet black waterproof one before sobbing in a heap on the floor, my confidence shattered thanks to a pencil.
I did go to the bathroom to splash my face with ice-cold water and stuff my long, unbrushed hair into a messy ponytail that looks more intentional and less slept in. I also texted Em to raincheck our hang, citing overtime at work, which she took as innuendo.
“She’ll never believe I’m on a date,” I say, shaking my head as I hold my phone out to show Xander the wall of one-sided text messages from Em. I look up at him, but he’s not looking at the phone. He’s staring at me.
“What?”
“You never date? Like, actually?” he says, not asking. Affirming. Like he’s rearranging how he sees me. He runs his hands through his curls and laughs. “I just thought it was a line.”
“It’s a lifestyle,” I say, quoting his choice of word back to me when he was condescending about my preferred dating app.
I instantly regret it. Since we’ve arrived at the coffee shop, we haven’t bickered, fought, or been absolute dicks to each other.
And it’s been, I don’t want to say nice, but bearable.
We hold eye contact for a moment, and I hope he doesn’t say anything. I don’t know how long this date is going to last, but I don’t have the energy for fighting fire with fire.
“What’s your longest relationship?” I say, right as he opens his mouth to speak. He raises his eyebrows at this. “We’re getting to know each other.” I use air quotes to really add to the sarcasm of it all. But alas, it’s time to fulfill the duties of this date.
“She listens,” he says, shaking his head, a half smile on his face, completely bemused by my actions. I don’t know how he does it, turning a half-assed smile into something so sexy, but he does.
“I am a very responsive to instructions,” I say, and I don’t know why it comes out suggestive, but there’s no denying it. I have introduced innuendo to this conversation. I bite down on my lip to shut myself up.
Xander scrunches his face but can’t stop smiling at what he’s seeing.
“Your talents are unparalleled.” He leans into the sexual overtone I’ve unleashed, and there’s an immediate shift in the energy around us. I feel my cheeks heat up.
Then, Xander holds up his coffee cup. “Cheers.”
We clink cups carefully but our fingertips brush and before I take my sip, a flash of a memory flutters behind my eyes.
Xander’s fingers pressing into my hips. I watch as Xander lifts the cup to his mouth.
His lips are roaming up my sternum. I track the moment Xander swallows, watching his Adam’s apple.
I’m kissing the column of his neck as he swallows a groan.
I finally make my way back to the present moment and look Xander in his eyes.
“Five years,” he says, and I almost blurt out, What are you talking about? until I remember the question I asked. Xander’s longest relationship was five years. That’s basically forever.
“Half a decade?” I say, shocked at this discovery.
That’s not just a long time. That’s the longest time.
The caffeine I’ve been mainlining since we got here starts to slosh in my stomach.
There was someone else. Who Xander promised himself to.
For five long years. For some reason, this new information doesn’t sit right with me.
“What happened? Why’d you break up?” I don’t care how nosy I sound. Suddenly, I really need to know. And if she left him with a broken heart.
“She was supposed to help me …” He pauses, thinking of his next line carefully. “Get over someone else and we got too comfortable.” This is the first time he looks past me. It’s not his usual MO. Usually he holds eye contact long enough to make me squirm.
“A five-year rebound?” I say, eyebrows raised. His eyes slide back to mine.
“I’m a sucker,” he says, back to his somewhat intimidating eye contact.
“Are you over her?” I’m pressing now. I don’t know why it’s so important, but suddenly it is.
“God, yes,” he says, coughing out a laugh before looking over at me. “What about you?”
“You know I have no relationship war stories,” I say, shrugging in relief that my past doesn’t come under scrutiny.
“What about your relationship with your dad?” he says, and the mention of my father catches me by surprise.
“What about it?” I say, defenses going up. I don’t think familial relationships count as “getting to know each other” on the first date.
“You seemed pretty upset when you found out he’s getting remarried,” he says, persisting.
“Upset? Come on, that was your standard day-drinking karaoke session,” I say, trying for neutral and coming off like a dick.
It dawns on me that this could go one of two ways.
We end up fighting. Again. And consequently, end up annoyed, frustrated, and filled with pent-up energy at the sleep study tonight.
Or I meet him halfway. Let him get to know me.
Even if it means talking about my relationship with my father.
I really want to keep it classy tonight. So I’m going to talk about my dad.
“I just feel sorry for the new wife. The man has proven time and time again he can’t keep it in his pants.”
“He’ll cheat again?” Xander says, even-handed. “That’s your conclusion?”
“Absolutely,” I say, this time with the kind of cocky confidence that you’d expect from Xander in his closing arguments to the jury.
“What if he doesn’t, though?” Xander presses. “What if he’s in love with her? Like, truly, madly, deeply head-over-heels in love with her?”
I take Xander in for a moment. His slept-in stubble. The tattoos that snake around his arms and seem to pop against his white T-shirt. His curls. He’s wearing an intense look on his face.
“What are you talking about?”
“You need a crash course in love, too?” he asks, but the blank expression on my face is all he needs to go on.
“Being in love with someone means you feel a strong, almost inexplicable desire for that person. It’s a yearning,” Xander says, eyes darting all over my face.
“You think about them constantly. You crave spending time together whenever you’re apart.
It’s such an intense feeling of joy that you can also feel a bit unsure because it feels so strong. ”
I study him for a moment. And his big hazel eyes. Then I burst out laughing. “What the fuck was that, Romeo? Holy shit. Do you want to write the vows for this wedding?”
His face lights up before he snaps his fingers. “Actually, that’s a good idea.”
“What? I was joking.” I shake my head.
“Not that. But me, coming to your dad’s wedding, as your date,” he says, finally explaining his brain wave.
“No fucking way,” I say, choking on how ridiculous this sounds.
“Did you really think we’d be able to get through the sleep study on one date alone?” he says. This stops me in my tracks because obviously the answer is yes.
But every touch, tease, and taste we’ve had in said sleep study rushes to the surface.
Ugh. Xander’s right.
I repeat my new mantra: Dating is where lust and love to go die. And that’s when I find myself whispering, “Okay.”
“Okay,” Xander says, slowly, like he’s realizing that we have both agreed to date each other.
“For the sake of the sleep study,” I say, more to remind myself than to remind him.
“For the sake of the sleep study,” Xander repeats, raising his coffee up for a toast.
I clink his coffee cup with mine.
And he can barely hold back his smile. “This will be fun,” he says, a full-blown smile blooming across his face.