1. Chapter 1 #3
I slide my phone back in my purse and flush the toilet that I didn’t use before opening the stall door. Susan is standing there, tapping her foot and looking at a nonexistent watch on her wrist. I press my clutch between my elbow and side while I quickly wash and dry my hands.
We silently walk back to the table together, and Tracy arrives a moment later with our food. Bless her for putting in a rush order with the kitchen.
“Thank you,” I say. When she leaves, I turn to Susan. “What do you do?”
“I run a real estate business.” She smiles over at her son. “It’s the best getting to work with my Michael every day.”
Oh. Oh. My cousin not only works with Mike, but they both work for his mother? That would’ve been some key information heading into this date, Patrice. I’m officially never letting her set me up again.
“That’s fascinating,” I grit out. “I’d love to hear more about it.” Nothing makes a dinner go by faster than asking a woman about herself. I grab my fork and dive into my food as I listen to Susan talk all about her real estate empire.
When my phone finally buzzes with an incoming call, my body floods with relief. I flip it over and see a picture of me and Austin after one of his games. My heart flutters at the sight of him, like it always does.
No matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise, I think a part of the reason I never feel anything on other dates—aside from the fact that most of them are atrocious—is because of him.
Or rather, my feelings for him.
Feelings I’ve shoved deep down because I know he doesn’t feel the same. But no one else has measured up to him, and I’m not sure they ever will. Because even though we're only friends, he’s still the one saving me tonight. He’s set the bar high for all other men.
I snatch my phone off the table. “Sorry, I should get this.” I ignore the matching annoyed looks Mike and Susan shoot my way and swipe to answer the call. “Hey, Austin. Is everything okay?”
“You need to come home. There was a gas leak at your house and the fire department is there.”
“A gas leak?” I gasp. I pause again for dramatic effect before flinging my hand to my mouth. “The fire department? Is everyone okay?”
“Your roommates got out safely, but they need you.”
“Of course. I’ll be there soon. Thanks for letting me know.” I hang up the phone and wave Tracy down.
“Can I offer you any dessert?” she asks.
Mike holds a hand to his stomach. “Oh, we couldn’t possibly eat any more.” Says the man who still has half of his steak and plain potato untouched on his plate. “A man doesn’t maintain a six-pack by eating sweets.”
I think we’re at strike twenty in the cons column at this point, but I lost count a long time ago. Also, who cuts in like that when I clearly flagged the waitress down and just said words like gas leak and fire department?
“I have an emergency at home, so could we just get the check, please?”
Tracy’s face sobers. “Of course, I hope everything’s okay.” She looks to Mike. “Will that be one check this evening?”
Mike snorts. “This is only a first date. I’ll be paying for my mother and myself.”
Susan leans over and pats his cheek. “Such a sweet man. I taught you well.”
Not well enough to pay for this awful date.
Tracy turns to me with a bewildered expression.
“I guess two checks, then,” I say.
Our waitress is barely gone for a minute before returning with two pieces of paper. She slides one to Mike and places the other in front of me. I flip it over and find that my meal and drink have both been comped.
There’s a handwritten note on it.
Your friend called and paid for your meal. He said he hopes this makes up for the terrible night you’ve had.
It does, Tracy. That and the fact that I now get to go be a couch blob with said friend while eating a delicious dessert.
I smile up at her and mouth, thank you.
She offers me a nod and a smile. I hand the receipt back to her, pretending like I’m paying as Mike does. Once the bills are settled, I endure the awkward walk out of the restaurant with Mike and Susan.
Mike stops just outside the front door. “I think that went well. Too bad you had to end the dinner early.” His mouth pulls to one side as he turns to his mother. “Should I kiss her?”
That’s it. I turn and bolt for my car while yelling over my shoulder, “I’m not interested.” After what I just put up with, I can’t find it in myself to care what they think. They can call me rude or impolite. But I call them people I’m never going to see again.
When I reach my car, I slide into the driver’s seat and lock the doors.
I turn it on and blast the air conditioning, then heave out a sigh.
Once I connect my phone, I crank up the stereo volume and play “We Are Never Getting Back Together” by Taylor Swift at a decibel that probably could cause lasting damage to my eardrums if I leave it this loud for too long.
But right now, I need to jam out while I mentally prepare myself to share about this catastrophic date.
As I drive to Austin’s house, I can’t help but think that maybe something is wrong with me. I strive for perfection in all areas of my life, but dating is the one realm where I just can’t seem to ever get it right.