“Yeah, this would never work,” I mutter.
Reading the text messages—all of them from the same person—solidifies this conviction.
“Is that my phone?” Neil asks as he returns, snatching it from my hand.
I almost wish he’d snuck out the bathroom window. Watching him come in the front door to retrieve his phone would have been entertaining.
“Yeah, it was on your seat buzzing like it has all night.”
“So, you hacked my phone?”
“You said your code, dude.” Crossing my arms, I lean back and glare at him. “Care to tell me the truth?”
“Depends on what truth you’re talking about.”
Continuing to glare, I roll my eyes. “Why some guy named Joe keeps texting to ask if the plan is working? If you’ve finally found a gullible one to get lucky? You made it sound like you had girls blowing up your phone, but it was just your buddy Joe. Who I’m guessing has played this game with you before.”
“Oh, you read those, huh?”
“Also, read your freaking emails. Your unread notifications give me anxiety.”
He lets out a long breath and slouches. “It’s a ruse.”
“For?”
“Okay, look. I’ve never been with a woman.”
“Wait—”
“Yes, I’m thirty-five, and I’ve never been inside a woman. Finger. Mouth. Dick. Nothing.”
Tilting my head, I try to find the right words. “Might help if you didn’t refer to it asbeing inside a woman. It sounds creepy. Like you want to skin her and wear it.”
My mind starts working on semantics. He said he’s never been inside a woman, but he didn’t say he was a virgin. Has he been with men? There’s nothing wrong with it, but this category doesn’t make any sense to me.
“That’s a good point. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You know there’s a Virgin category, right?”
“Yeah, and it’s for young, barely legal teenage girls with creepy older dudes. No hot chick is looking to deflower a man in his mid-thirties.”
Okay, so that sounds like he’s a virgin all around. And I kind of see his point. I don’t know if I’ve really read any virgin books that aren’t young nubile women and experienced, mature men.Doesn’t make it better, but at least it’s more palatable than the fake biker.
“So why the Playboy category?”
“I’ve tried a few others, but nothing works. I figured if a girl is willing to date someone she believes is a player, I might finally get laid.”
“Yeah? And how’s that working out for you? Considering you’re still a virgin, I’m guessing… not great?”
Shaking his head, Neil stares at his plate. “You’re the fourth date I’ve had pretending to be a player. The closest I’ve gotten is second base. I think my inexperience shows, and they walk out.”
“Well, they’re looking for a player, so…”
“Any chance I can convince you to… take pity on me?”
It’s not the worst offer I’ve had so far. And Neil might actually trump Preston as the least bad date I’ve had. But do I really want to teach Neil what to do in the bedroom?
“Sorry, dude. Not my type. Have you tried the Cougar category? Might be a better option.”
