Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
He stops and turns his face to me, confused. “Fast?”
“I … I don’t usually do this on a first date. I sorta thought we’d just hang out a bit, finish up our chat from the restaurant and, like … call it a night, maybe?”
The look on his face suggests I’m speaking Dothraki. “Huh?”
“I know, I know. I almost said something earlier, but … everything happened so fast, and suddenly you were eating out my ass, and then—”
“I thought you were into this.” He gestures at his washboard abs, as if to remind me I can wash my dirty clothes off on them when we’re finished. “I thought this was where we were going all night long. With the dinner. With the wooing. With all the nerdy-stuff chat you made me sit through.”
I blink. Made him sit through …? “I thought you liked nerdy stuff.”
“Yeah, of course I do … when it leads to sex.”
“I just don’t think I can go all the way. I’m not really into hooking up on the first date.”
“Seriously? For fuck’s sake. Even wasted a perfectly good condom.” He sighs and flings it to the side, giving up on it. “Should’ve known.”
“Known what?”
He’s off the bed the next instant and yanking his clothes back on. “That you’re one of those guys.”
I’m so bad at arguments, half the time I don’t even realize I’m in the middle of one. “What guys?”
“Some kind of psycho cock-tease trap.” He thrusts his shirt on with such force, I hear threads pop. “Stringing me along all evening, fooling me into thinking this night had a happy ending, flirting and being cute. If I stayed, next thing I’d know, I would’ve woken up in the morning with a ball and chain hooked to my foot and a ring on my finger. No thanks.” He crouches down to shove his shoes on.
“I … I’m sorry. I swear I wasn’t trying to lead you on. I even paid for dinner.”
“Yeah, and I’ll pay for this mistake with blue balls all night.” He rolls his eyes and gets to his feet. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”
“But I thought …” I’m at the edge of the bed—and the end of my rope. It’s been a long time since I invited anyone up. A very long time. I confess I had high hopes for tonight. Maybe I should curb the tinge of desperation in my voice. “I thought we had something. You said you were looking for a boyfriend.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to say. That’s what everyone says.” He stops at the door and gives me a withering look. “Thanks for dinner.”
I blink at him, at a loss for words.
Is it too late to change my mind?
The sound of his footsteps tramp down my hallway, and then I hear the rattle and the slam of the door to my apartment. Silence surrounds me like a cold, wet hug I didn’t ask for. A moment later, it’s permeated only by the muffled racket of the hot couple next door—on the opposite side of my bedroom wall—who start going to town on each other with total abandon. I listen to the framed picture hanging on my wall as it rattles from the unapologetic thumping.
Well, at least someone’s getting some tonight.
2. Profile Pic
“Maybe your dating profile is misleading.”
“My what?”
“Your profile. Hmm, let me look.”
The office is quiet today, except for me and Prisha, my best friend and perpetually beautiful coworker. She has long black hair, smooth dusky skin with warm olive undertones, and eyes that can instantly pierce any lie and reveal your secrets. Or at least that’s what being her friend feels like at times like now. I can’t keep anything from her. I think that’s why I trust her so much.
She squints as she thumbs through my phone, elbows propped up on the table. “Hmm, I think it’s your profile pic,” she decides. “It isn’t wholesome enough.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Wholesome …?” We’re supposed to be researching marketing trends of a certain demographic—male gamers, ages 14 to 16, to be exact—but apparently I wouldn’t stop complaining about my date last night. “I don’t think ‘wholesome’ captures a lot of attention, and—”
“You’re correct. It doesn’t. But it captures the right attention, and isn’t that the point?” She eyes me with those all-knowing eyes of hers. “Isn’t this literally the kind of work we do every day? Fine-tuning demographic targeting to make the firm’s marketing campaigns more efficient?”
I frown. “You can never turn off the marketing eye, can you?”
“Cast too wide a net, and you’ll attract all the wrong guys.” She taps on a photo, then slides my phone back to me from across the table where we’re working. “Use this one instead.”
I stare at it. “Are you kidding? A cardigan? That’s me last year at Halloween.”
“It’s cute. Besides, the love of your life won’t know the difference. Or at the very least, he’ll think you have a sense of humor. Or it’ll be a nice talking piece for dinner.” She lifts her own eyebrows at me. “Rome, when you ask for my advice, then bat it away like a dollar store cat toy, it makes me question why I give you advice at all.”