Biba sighs. “Well, what did you do?”
I clap a hand on my chest. “What makes you so sure that I did something?”
Biba only cocks her head. “Really, Rach?”
“Ok, well, this time it wasn’t me. Rusty was nosing around his bushes, and he completely freaked out. I have no idea what his deal is.”
“Doesn’t like dogs?” Demi asks.
“Who doesn’t like dogs?”
“Ethan doesn’t like dogs.”
I bite my tongue not to reply. “Well, anyone who doesn’t like my dog can just bite me. In fact—” I pull myself out of the booth. “I think I’ll tell him that.”
“Rachel!” Demi hisses as I take a step towards Boen’s table.
“Don’t you dare,” Biba threatens.
“I have to potty,” I throw over my shoulder as I saunter across the floor.
Boen
After the in-depth conversation with my class about the pros and cons of love and telling them about my date tonight, the pressure is on. Plus, I’d really like to tell my sister that I made a love connection without the social scrutiny of The Suitor.
Because of either and possibly both reasons, the blind date with Brooke doesn’t start off well.
Based on the proximity, I concluded the Beer Pub would be a suitable for meeting place. It wasn’t until we had sat down and made our introductions and ordered drinks that Brooke told me she has a food sensitivity to malted barley, a key ingredient in most beer.
“It gives me violent diarrhea,” Brooke says.
I admit I’m a bit surprised at her openness in discussing bodily functions. It is the first date.
“We can go somewhere else,” I insist for the fifth time. Because not only does the Beer Pub have an amazing selection of craft beer, it also uses beer as an ingredient in just about every one of the items on the menu.
“I’m fine with wine,” she says for the sixth time. “And I don’t eat much.”
If Brooke doesn’t eat much, and I often forget to eat, then a relationship is doomed from the start because of the potential of starvation.
The next discovery is that Brooke is not “a science person” like Bexley said, but a neurobiologist who turns her nose up at other fields, much like Sheldon on The Big Bang Theory. And when she finds out I’m a chemistry teacher, the one-word answers shrink to the oddmm hmm.
I soldier on, listening to her talk about her research projects, which means I drink myWeissbier—with the hints of coriander and orange zest—much too fast. So when the woman appears at the table, I look up eagerly, happy for a distraction.
“Hey,” she says with a smirk. “Figure out what that smell was last night?”
And then I recognize Rachel.
“Oh. It’s you.”
“Itisme.” She grins widely and just a little mockingly. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
“Without your dog? Still no.”
She’s wearing all black again, but the outfit isn’t as form-fitting; black jeans, torn at the knees and rolled up at the ankles with a Pink Floyd T-shirt.
Then I notice the boots. Well-worn combat boots. I bet she likes to stomp around in them. I’m glad she doesn’t share a wall with me.
I take a surreptitious glance under the table. Brooke is wearing tiny black ballet flats with a bow on the toe.
