His face reddens at the question. “You saw that?”
“What can I say? I’m observant.”
“Callie offered to show me how to harvest honey on her farm next week.”
“Like a date?” I jab him in the side with a finger.
“Ow.”He jerks away, avoiding my jab along with the question.
“It’s a date,” I squeal, determining for myself.
“She’s just showing me how to make honey.”
“I’m sure she is.” I waggle my brows at him.
“Grow up, El,” he says, but he’s unable to hide a smile. And more importantly he’s unable to tell me definitively that this is notnota date. Which makes it all worth the many missed opportunities with Brennan today. I guess that’s the upside of being here longer. I can work on my relationship status later. But first I need to help Gavin with his.
As soon as we get home, I sit him down on his bed and tell him to listen up.
“Here’s what you need to wear,” I say, holding up an appropriately suitable—and, more importantly, suited to his body type—outfit for a first date.
“I told you, no makeovers.” Gavin has his hands up, warding me off.
“I know you did,” I say. “I just didn’t agree to it.”
“Elena,” he says.
“Gavin,”I say in his naggy voice. “Why do you always have to say no before yes? Just save us some time and do what I say.” I put my hands on his shoulders, gently forcing him into a sitting position on his bed so he can listen to the short but imperative presentation I have planned. “From what I’ve learned about you these past few weeks, you are nothing like the uptight rule follower that your style would suggest. I’m just trying to make your outside accurately match who you are on the inside.”
“These aren’t uptight. They’re smart,” he says defensively, motioning to his slacks and button-down dress shirt. “Dad says to dress for the job you want, not the one you have.”
“My point exactly. Are you going to a board meeting or a date?”
“A date, but—”
A wry smile appears on my lips when I finally get him to admit this is a date. “But nothing,” I say, cutting him off. “These slacks are boring; you need something more relaxed. That way she’ll be relaxed, and you both can be yourselves when you get to know each other better.”
He agrees with me, albeit begrudgingly, and takes the T-shirt and shorts I laid out for him.
“Now that you look more like you, let’s have you sound like you.” And because he has a confused look on his face, I explain, “You need help in the conversation department.”
He opens his mouth to argue with me, but soon after closes it when he realizes he has no argument. “Fine. How do I start the conversation?”
“Youdon’t. She does. Let her do the talking, and you do the listening.”
“That’s not what Dad said when I first started dating Sonya. He said I need to lead with authority. To take charge of the situation so she knows I’m a strong man who can take care of her.”
I purse my lips with a hand on my hip. “Did he also tell you to pee all around her so that the other territorial males would stay away?”
After letting my words sink in, he gestures for me to continue. “Point taken,” he says.
“Okay, so, first start by asking her questions about herself. Listen intently to her responses. Then—and this is an important step—when she finishes telling you something interesting about herself, follow it up with another question related to what she said, and whatever you do, do not, I repeat,do notfollow up by relating it to something about you.”
He blinks. “That’s it?” he says after a beat. “That’s the secret?”
“You’d be surprised by how little it takes to be a decent human being. Taking a vital piece of information about the other person and making it about yourself doesn’t make you a good listener. It makes you a narcissist,” I say. “Trust me, Gavin. It’s the same reason why you shouldn’t wear a strapless dress with tan lines, why you shouldn’t wear tube socks with shorts, and why single men with no children shouldn’t drive panel vans—because that kind of behavior isn’t a good look.”
“Okay,” he says, convinced. “So basically don’t do anything Dad told me to do.”
