Luca
“I think you've got a few more gray hairs,” Matt says as he takes a sip of his first beer.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snap, but he just grins.
“We haven’t hung out in weeks,” he goes on. “I think you’ve sprouted a few new ones.”
“I see you at work every day,” I say, taking a sip of my beer too so I can deal with his sarcasm. He’s right. We haven’t hung out in a social setting in a hot minute. I’m sure his snide-ass comments have been building up.
“Yeah, but that’s not the same. So, fill me in. You went out with Olivia again. Is it Olivia? Not just Livv?” he asks.
“It’s Olivia,” I say.
“So she was lying about her name,” he shakes his head.
“Livv is short for Olivia. That’s not a lie,” I say. “And where are you going with this?”
“I’m just saying, boss. You’ve been going out with the host of that tacky podcast about dating in the wild. And she knows who you are. She’s messing with you; we’ve established that. She could be lying about more things.”
“Like what?” I growl, but Matt just casually shrugs.
“I don’t know. Maybe we should listen to the podcast and find out,” he says. I just stare at him.
“I’m not listening to her podcast. I have no interest in romance-based theories on how to make relationships last,” I say.
“And yet you continue to go out with her,” he says. “So what happened?”
And while I’m not really in the mood to entertain this, I have to admit…last night’s date was pretty well executed.
“I took her to Lanturns,” I start in.
“Swanky. I bet she ate that up,” he grins.
“She did,” I say. “We ate. Drank. Talked. She’s witty; I’ll give her that.”
“Of course she is; she talks to people for a living. She’s used to being persuasive and getting what she wants. So then what?” he asks, popping a pretzel in his mouth.
“So then I drove her home. And she was very eager to get home. Smiling, leaning in, batting her eyes,” I go on.
“Listen, if she looks in person anything like those photos…”
“Even better,” I say, and he chuckles. My lips curl at the memory. “She wore this satin gown,”
“A gown?” His eyebrows jet up to his still thick hairline.
“Yeah. Black. Backless. No bra…”
“Damn,” he whistles. “I bet that was fun to tear apart.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say as I take another sip, and Matt’s jaw drops.
“You mean you didn’t…what?” he asks, and I just shake my head. “Why the hell not? Did she turn you down?”
“Nope,” I say, leaning back comfortably. Meanwhile, Matt is hanging on my words. “She wanted it. She invited me inside. Twice. But I kissed her, said goodnight, and left.”
“Holy…shit…” he chuckles, and my lips curl again. “You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah, well…that’s the point, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Alright, so let’s just…summarize the scenario here. A little recap,” he says. “So she’s leading you on with the intention of screwing you over because you rejected her friend? But you figured it out, so you are leading her on too because you’re onto her, but she doesn’t know that you know.”
“Pretty much, yeah,” I say.
“This is…” Matt trails off, wiping his hand down his face with a grin. “It’s hilarious. And brilliant. Her face must have been priceless when you walked off.”
“It was,” I say. Then…and only because I am talking to Matt and no one else. “Do you think it’s too much?”
Matt nearly chokes on his beer. “Too much? Luca, she’s using you. Trying to pull one over on you so she can use it as research to back her wacky beliefs for her little radio show. A radio show that could damage our reputation if she put enough effort into it. No. I don’t think it’s too much.”
“It’s a podcast,” I correct him. “But yeah. You’re right.
This label people keep plastering on me that I’m some kind of womanizer is bullshit.
Every woman I go out with knows exactly where I stand.
That I’m not looking for anything serious.
It’s not like I’m the only man out there casually dating women for a little distraction,” I state.
“And it’s also not like the women you take out aren’t getting first-class treatment,” Matt adds. “I mean, damn, you spend more on one date than most men spend on a month’s worth of dates.”
“Exactly,” I say. “I don’t like people making assumptions about me.”
“So, what’s the next step?” he asks.
“I texted her. For another date,” I answer, and Matt grins again.
“Nice. You’re a dog, you know that?”
But I’m not so sure about that. If anything, I feel like that’s the point I’m trying to prove.
Sure, I am playing a game, but only because she started it.
Honestly, all of this is a little morally gray for me.
I don’t lie. I don’t fuck around. I’m black and white with people.
I’m also black and white on the subject of relationships.
It’s why I believe that lasting relationships need calculation.
Compatibility through research, not chemistry.
Chemistry is bullshit. It’s women gushing over ideals they were taught through princess movies and men listening to their dicks instead of their brains.
No, that’s not how it works. Because all the surface feelings in the world can’t be trusted if the person is wrong for you.
That’s when people lie, when they pretend, when they cheat.
Is that romantic? No. Is it what people want to hear? Of course not. But it’s facts. Facts you can learn the hard way through getting your heart broken, or facts you can learn through personalized logistics.
As we continue drinking our beers, Matt strikes up a conversation with a blonde at the next table who likes his tie.
I doubt it’s the time she likes. She likes his smile, but she’s not going to say that.
And he tells her he likes her necklace when really he’s just using it as an excuse to stare at her tits.
It’s annoying. But it gives me time to think.
While I know I need to follow through on this whole Olivia thing (I always follow through) I also have an uneasy feeling.
I know what she does for a living. But I want to see if she’ll admit it.
If I am going to play along with this, I want to know what I’m getting myself into.
What her motives really are. Who Olivia Ramone really is.