Chapter 13
Chapter 13
The No More Bad Dates Pact Rules of Engagement state clearly that Initial Contact needs to take place over coffee, preferably at a coffee house. Today, with David, I’ve bent the rules a teensy little bit. Sure, we’re sitting together, talking over piping hot cups of coffee. So far, so per the rulebook. But instead of meeting at a café, we’re sitting on the beautiful golden-sand beach of Mission Bay, a well-heeled beach not far from the central city.
With our takeout coffees in hand, waves rhythmically crashing against the shore, the scent in the air is salty and fresh, and I’m finding it hard to tear my eyes from David’s handsome face as he tells me about his life.
“So, although I’m no longer working directly with sea life in my new management job, I’m still really involved and get to spend time by the tanks most days.”
“This is at the aquarium?”
“Yup. Right over there.” He nods in the direction of the city.
I can’t keep the admiration from my voice when I say, “It must be so great to have a career where you’re doing what you love.”
“Oh, it is. If you love what you do, you won’t work a day in your life, as the saying goes. Don’t you love managing the high tea place? You seemed really happy there on Saturday. But maybe that was just because of the guy who kept smiling at you?”
The hopeful look on his face has a giggle bubbling up inside me. “Oh, I’m sure it’s all down to you. But in addition to the fact I got to meet you there, I do love it at High Tea. I worked next door at the Cozy Cottage Café for years, too. But it’s not a ‘career.’” I use air quotes as I let out a sigh. “At least, not if you’re my family. They want me to do something more important with my life than serving food and drinks to people.”
“What could be more important than loading people up with tea, sugar, and carbs, and sending them home happy?”
My grin is so broad, it threatens to crack my face in two. “My point exactly.”
We sit, smiling at one another, as thoughts like “he gets me!” and “this could totally work!” dart around my head like a couple of ping pong balls.
Yup, I like this guy. Like, really like him. He’s funny and cute and smart, and what’s more, he’s got humility, which is something I think I’ve seen in a guy my age maybe once in my life. I apologize to the males of my generation, but it’s the truth, sad as it is.
He looks out at the sea. “I love the beach. Everything about it. It’s where I feel the most ‘me.’” David’s cheeks flush an attractive shade of pink, making his blue eyes stand out even more in the bright sun. “Sorry if that sounds a bit too sappy.”
“Oh, it’s not sappy at all. It’s what I’d expect of a marine biologist. I think it’s amazing.” The wind whips my hair around my face. I shove it behind my ears and grin at him. “I really like the beach, too.”
“I’m so happy to hear that, Sophie.” David beams at me as though I’ve paid him the highest compliment possible, not just told him that, along with billions of other people, I like the beach.
“You know, you should grow your hair longer. It’s so pretty. You’d look incredible with long, flowing hair. Like Daryl Hannah in Splash . You know, the eighties mermaid movie?”
Not sure how to take it, I mutter, “Err, thanks.”
If he notices my hesitation, he doesn’t show it.
“Do you swim or surf?” I ask. With his broad shoulders and slim physique, he’s definitely got a swimmer’s vibe going on.
“I like to get in amongst it, you know? Feel at one. Get in touch with the essence of the ocean.”
I pretend I know what he’s talking about. “Right. Yes. The essence of the ocean. Totally.”
Isn’t that salt?
“So, swimming then?” I continue, still not exactly sure what he’s going on about.
“Yup. Swimming. But I scuba dive, too.”
“You’re a regular Jacques Cousteau.”
“I wish! He’s my hero.”
“I bet he is.” I drain the last of my coffee and glance at my watch. Even though I could happily sit here all day with David, I need to get to the Cozy Cottage for a shift. Short-staffed, Bailey called me in desperation last night, and I was more than happy to help out.
“This has been really great. Thanks for meeting up with me. Maybe next time you’ll let me make you dinner?” he asks.
“You cook, too? Is there nothing you can’t do?” Suddenly nervous, I add, “About next time. I, ah, need to ask you something.”
“This sounds serious. Are you going to reveal some fascinating hidden truth to me?”
I let out a jittery laugh. “Oh, nothing like that. It’s no big deal really.”
David’s eyes are dancing when he replies, “Pity. I like a woman of mystery.”
“Sorry to disappoint. You see, I’ve got a crummy track record with dating, and, well, here’s the thing.” I know I need to just come out and say it, so I force myself to go on. “I need you to meet my friends first before I can go on a date with you.” I hold my breath and look for his reaction out of the corner of my eye.
“You need me to meet your friends before we can go on a second date?”
“Yes. That’s right.” I’m not about to go into the whole Initial Contact versus First Date thing with him. Totally unnecessary right now. “They’ll ask you a few questions, nothing too tricky. I’ll be there, too. Is that okay?”
I know I sound like a crazy person, asking a guy I’ve had one coffee and a bunch of flirty texts with to meet my friends, but I promised Jason—an unbreakable pinky promise at that, the most serious of all promises, as we all know—and I need to be committed to the Pact.
He studies my face for a moment before he replies, “I’m not sure why exactly, but if it’s what you want, I can meet your friends.”
Relief floods through me. “Thank you!” I lurch myself toward him until I remember the No More Bad Dates Pact rule decreeing that there should be no physical contact during Initial Contact. I pull back and shoot him a sheepish grin. I must look like I’m doing some sort of weird dance move. “That’s, ah, great.”
David shoots me a questioning look. “You okay, Sophie?”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely.” In embarrassment, I push myself up and brush sand from my butt. “I’ll set something up with my friends and let you know, okay?”
He stands up beside me. “Sure. Then, once I pass with flying colors, I’m going to cook you my signature dish.”
“You have a signature dish?” I don’t have enough dishes in my repertoire to have a “signature dish.” Heck, outside of my limited toast repertoire, I don’t have any “dishes” whatsoever.
“I do salmon steaks done in marmalade with brown sugar. They are so good.”
As we make our way back to the sidewalk, my mouth begins to water. “I figured as a marine biologist, you’d be against eating fish. I mean, you love them so much, right?”
“There’s an order to everything. We humans are at the apex of the food chain, much as a whale is in the oceans, or a lion on the plains of Africa.”
Forget Jacques Cousteau, this guy is a regular David Attenborough.
“This was fun. Let me know what works for you, and I’ll be there ready to answer any question your friends throw at me.”
Relief washes over me like the surf on the shore. “You’re awesome, you know that?”
He gives a shrug and shoots me one of his knee-weakening smiles. “I try.”
As I say goodbye to him and return to my car, the happiness he’s sparked in me subsides as my insides begin to knot with tension. The way Oliver passed the test and still turned out to be a looney-tunes plays on my mind. We’ll need to be extra vigilant with David, because I have high hopes for this guy, and more than anything, I want him to pass.