“Like I said, it’s straight into voting preferences and belief systems.If I start relying on dick jokes to carry a conversation…” She tilts her head down and I get a glimpse of that same wicked smirk.
“Kill me.”
CHAPTER 4
“Shut up.Just shut up… You had me at homicide.”
—NotJerry Maguire
The first three dates are… meh.
Drew seemed to like the look of me, or at least the look of my tits.They garnered most of his attention during our exchange on safe controversial topics like pineapple on pizza (Ew.No), mountain or beach (No strong feelings on that), and cats or dogs (Dogs… obviously).None of our answers matched and I couldn’t find it in me to be disappointed.
Stu didn’t like it when I accidentally called him Drew.Given I’d only heard his name for the first time five minutes before I made the mistake, I feel like the slip hardly warranted the silent treatment he gave me for the rest of our date.I wasthisclose to flipping him the bird as he stomped over to Laurie’s table.
Well, fuck you, too, Drew—I mean, Stu.
His preference for plaid and the manicured beard align more with Laurie’s preferences anyway, but I hope his personality puts a pin in that before it can become an issue.
And Lee, well, he spent the whole time talking about his first date, Nia.She was the woman who gave me tips on how to keep my monstera alive during cocktail hour.With her flawless brown skin and easy smile that showcases a set of perfect Gabrielle Union dimples, it’s not surprising she already has someone so smitten with her.I could see her stealing glances at him from the corner of my eye, so I thought it only fair to offer to be his wingman after the last date was over.We spent the rest of our date talking through a game plan.
By the time my fourth date folds himself into the chair across from me, I’m already considering what kind of filling I’m going to get in my Gyros.Lamb?Chicken?Both.Yeeeessss—
“Hi.”
I shake myself out of my meat-induced daydream and give bachelor number four the attention he deserves for signing up for ten blind dates, and… Oh.
He’scute.
Late-eighties Bill Pullman cute.Blue eyes, longish, light brown hair that is ruffled because I bet it won’t do anything else, and when he leans over the table and offers me his hand, his palm engulfs mine.It’s warm and big and just a little callused.Green flag.
“I’m John.”
He says his name like an apology, his head ducking down a little, his eyes avoiding mine for a second before he looks back up and offers me the smallest of lip tilts.And it’s so endearing I can’t help but smile back.Things are looking up.
“I’m Jamie.”
“How’s your night been?”His voice is like his handshake: soft and warm and comforting, and I feel like he’d be really good at reciting poetry.
“Mediocre,” I say honestly, lightly, sliding my martini in frontof me and making the glass do a pirouette as the comment gains the soft, throaty chuckle I was gunning for.
He goes to say something, stops himself, looks at me for an extended moment from under his lashes, and then seems to find the nerve to say, “I hope I can make it better then.”
Ooh.Smooth.I appreciate the risk and slide forward in my chair a little bit to reward him.
“How about you?”
“It’s been fine; there are some interesting people here.”His answer is more politically correct, but still, I can tell he’s being honest.
“What’s the most interesting thing you’ve heard tonight?”I ask, and he considers the question before looking over his shoulder and pointing out the pretty redhead with the Julia Roberts smile seated at the table next to Laurie.
“Shelley over there volunteered in Kenya helping endangered wildlife, and Dani”—he turns back to me and tilts his head to the woman with the Meg Ryan pixie cut—“has a tattoo of a chicken on her ribs that she has no idea how she got.”
That makes me grin.He’s been listening to these women talk.They’ve been comfortable enough to share intimate and embarrassing stories with him, and if that isn’t a green flag, I don’t know what is.I read this study on speed dating that said you can tell in the first thirty seconds whether you think you’ll be a match with someone.Those numbers seem to be checking out right about now.
He shifts forward on his seat so there’s only a ruler’s distance between us.“Tell me something interesting about you.”
I ponder the question.I’ve got nothing on poultry body art or frolicking with antelopes across the savanna.I am, however, a human trash can filled to the brim with film knowledge, and since John has been the most promising of my suitors so far, I pull out the big guns.“I can recite the entire film ofWhile You Were Sleeping.”
