Quicksand, anyone? Sharks?His eyes shut for a brief moment as he tried to regurgitate some of the pride he just swallowed. “It’s not a date.”
“Is it a bet?”
“Nope.”
She gave it some thought, still looking skeptical about his motives. “Okay. I will go with you on a non-working day to a non-work related festival…of dance and then I will accompany you to a non-work related dinner– all of which sounds eerily similar to a date, even though it’snot. I will do all of this if you tell me what your hidden agenda is.”
He hated lying, but it was just a tiny white lie. After Saturday, all of this would be over and she would never have to know the truth. “I don’t have a hidden agenda.” She looked up at him with questioning eyes. “Really. I just feel bad about what happened last week…with the pasta. I want to make it up to you.”
There was a flicker of doubt, but it disappeared quite quickly. “Alright, Mister Evans. I’ll see you for our agenda-free not-a-date on Saturday.”
*****
Strike two! That’s it. Operation Cupid is officially a FAIL! Why do I listen to Matthew?
Trisha wasn’t there. Sure, it was pretty packed, but she had the ability to stand out in the crowd and Tyler was more thanninety percent certainthat he hadn’t seen her.
The contemporary dance show had just finished and as they filed out of the Broadway Performance Hall, his eyes were still searching for her. She would’ve loved this year’s show. It was passionate and electric. The dancers were flawless and graceful, the entire act filled with the type of zealous energy that left the entire audience in awe.
All except one.
While this was something he and Trisha both enjoyed, Jordan neither liked nor appreciated this form of art. She hadn’t said anything, but her small gestures spoke volumes. Staring at the ceiling instead of the stage. Pursing and un-pursing her lips. Playing candy crush on her phone. All of that indicated that she had reached a stage of insufferable boredom before the show was even half-way through.
He’d promised her dinner and now he was stuck with her for at least another hour or two. Stuck was maybe too harsh a word. She wasn’t that bad.
Although asking her out proved to be painfully difficult, the actual not-a-date was surprisingly very easy. Though her unhappiness with the show caused high levels of awkward tension,shewas very easy to be around– nice even. He’d noticed it at their last dinner. She had a lightness about her, never taking anything too seriously and he was starting to see that there was more to Jordan Shepard than schedules and sarcasm.
“So how bad was it?” he asked as they stepped outside into the warm evening air.
She flushed a little, turning as pink as the flowers on the floral summer dress she wore. This dress was better than thecocktail dress, a little less distracting. A little. It still showed off her lean thighs. The low neckline still exposed too much of those awesome, levitating breasts, but it was a nice break from the high buttoned shirts and straight cut knee-length skirts. She also only ever wore black, grey and navy and it was nice seeing those soft pastel colors on her lightly tanned skin for a change. It was nice that she had her hair down too.
“It wasn’t bad,” she replied. “It’s just not my thing.”
Wow! Jordan Shepard is attempting to sugar coat.“Please, don’t go easy on my account.”
“I hated it,” she admitted immediately. She stopped walking and turned to him, seemingly because she wanted him to know just how unpleasant it had been for her. “I was so bored, I explored places in my mind I didn’t know existed. Just so you know, it wasn’t my conscious mind. I was asleep, even if my eyes were open. This was me.” She rolled her eyes back like she was semi-drunk, pretending to nod off and get up again. “Dying…Of…Boredom.” Once would have been enough, but she did it repeatedly. He was seeing a different side to her, something a little playful, a little silly. It was nice.
He caught her chin when her head dropped for the fifth time and her soft skin on his fingertips was also…nice. Overall, everything was a little too nice for his liking. “I get the picture,” he said with a smile, taking a few seconds longer than necessary to move his hand from her face. “You didn’t like it. If this isn’t yourthing, why did you agree to come?”
“I believe one should always try something at least once. And I have to admit watching scantily dressed people declare their love for each other through dance…with mybosswas an all new kind of awkward for me.”
Her honesty was endearing and his smile widened. “The situation was quite displeasing for me too.”
“Displeasing?” she asked as they continued walking down the street. “Yes, I have to agree with you, Mister Evans. Quite displeasing.”
“I have a feeling you’re mocking me again.”
She didn’t respond and that was confirmation enough.
“Well, seeing as though I have subjected you to an evening of torture, you get to choose what we have for dinner.”
She gave him a nod when she made her decision. “Hot dogs.”
Twenty minutes later, Jordan sat down on a bench outside a small café, taking in the late sunset on this beautiful summer evening. Being here with Tyler was a little strange. He’d asked her out again and she thought: Why the hell not?
There was still a part of her that doubted his motives and she’d been hoping to find out what those were tonight, but not one thing had happened to prove he had a hidden agenda. Maybe he was just a nice guy doing a nice thing to say thank-you.
“Of all the restaurants in Seattle,” Tyler said, sitting down beside her, “we choose the one with the worst service. And how is it possible that they don’t own a single table?”
