Boymom91:This is even better than The Bachelorette. I’m team Hot Single Dad!
XOJo:@Boymom91 Don’t hold your breath waiting for me to pass out any roses!
XxSeaSunStylexx:Jo, take it from me, you do NOT want to hook up with your neighbor. Go find that handsome stranger from the bar!
XOJo:@XxSeaSunStylexx You’re right about one thing: I won’t be hooking up with my neighbor. But I won’t be hooking up with Hot Guy from the Bar, either. Sorry, ladies!
Something I hadn’t mentioned on the blog? That the men in these two incidents were the same guy, who was also my coworker.
UnicornStew:Why choose one, when you can have both?
Nina, of course. Why she felt the need to comment on the blog, let alone read it, was beyond me. My reply?
XOJo:@UnicornStew Why choose one when I can have none?
I shut my laptop with a sigh. Though I’d been blogging for almost a year now, I didn’t promote the blog on social media or have a newsletter. I didn’t even have a Facebook or Instagram account, which Nina said was ridiculous. She’d installed the apps on my phone and had logged into her accounts on it. Why? I had no idea. But it came in handy for stalking guests. I didn’t hate social media, and I wasn’t even an introvert, but I’d always kept my circle small and my feelings private. The only people I kept in contact with were the people I already talked to.
Writing on a public forum was different, though. Starting the blog had been a way to force myself out of my comfort zone and make my life into something worth documenting. I’d never imagined anyone would actually read it. What would my thirty regular followers—not including Nina—think if they saw me now? Hunched over my computer desk, reality TV blaring, my living room cluttered with Mia’s and Kitty’s dirtyclothes. What did I want from blogging anyway? I’d never thought about what would happen once my thirtieth birthday came and went.
I went to the kitchen and grabbed the last Pop-Tart before plopping down on the couch between Mia and Kitty. All yesterday I’d thought about texting Alex to say I’d changed my mind about carpooling, but he didn’t know I had his number, and I wasn’t about to waltz over to his condo and bail on him in person. Anything I said now would make it seem like I was trying to avoid him (which I was), but I also didn’t want to hurt his feelings. If heknewI was avoiding him, then he’d want to know why, and he might conclude that the very fact I was avoiding him was evidence I had some sort of attraction to him (which I didn’t, beyond a natural pheromonal attraction, probably because he smelled so good). So really, the best course of action was to continue with the plan: both the carpooling and the not being attracted to him.
“Jo, chill out.” Mia nudged my leg with her foot.
I set my feet firmly on the tile, not realizing I’d been bouncing my legs up and down.
Kitty set down one of my father’s poetry books and gave me a sidelong glance. “Are you on cocaine?”
I nearly spit out my Pop-Tart. “What? Why would I be on cocaine? Why do you evenknowabout cocaine?”
Kitty shrugged. “I had to do a project on Robert Louis Stevenson this year. Wanna know how he wroteDr. Jekyll and Mr. Hydein six days? Cocaine. That’s how.”
“Well, I’m not on drugs. But I am worried about what you’re learning in school.”
“Then why are you acting all weird?”
“I’m not acting weird.” I took another bite of my Pop-Tart, and crumbs rained down on my shirt. “Probably too much caffeine and sugar. Do you know how awful these are for you? You shouldn’t be eating them.”
“I thought there was no such thing as too much caffeine,” Mia said.“And don’t blame the Pop-Tarts on us. You’re the one who bought them. Seriously, you eat like a fifth grader. It’s concerning.”
I eyed the time on my phone—8:40 a.m. I looked out the window into the parking lot. Alex’s minivan (yes, the guy drove a minivan, and for some reason I’d agreed to ride to work in it) was in its usual spot. I turned back to the TV. The girls were watching a baking competition about long-distance couples who’d never met having to cook in their significant other’s kitchen before meeting them IRL for the first time. It was amusing, but I had too many questions rolling around in my mind to focus on it. Was Alex the kind of guy who believed you were only on time if you were early? Or was he more of anI’m five minutes away but actually haven’t left my house yetperson? What were we supposed to talk about during the twenty-minute drive to the marina? Did he listen to podcasts? Was he a silent driver? Would he want to talk?
So maybe caffeine and sugar weren’t my problem. Maybe I was nervous. But itwasn’tbecause of any attraction I might or might not have felt toward him.
“So what are you girls up to today?” I asked, trying to direct my thoughts elsewhere.
“Kitty and I are throwing a kegger in the activities room with Belva and Old Gary,” Mia said, her expression unnervingly serious.
“You said we’d be planning the decorations for the movie marathon!” Kitty exclaimed.
Mia rolled her eyes. “We’re obviously still doing that, dingus. I was just messing with Jo.”
Decorations?I didn’t know there’d be more prep work than picking out which movies we’d watch and buying some popcorn.
“I know you’re teasing me about the kegger, but I still don’t like it.” I took the last bite of my Pop-Tart, and a knock on the door startled the three of us.
I forgot all about the movie marathon at the sight of Alex’s van running in the parking lot with no one in the driver’s seat. I peeked past theplants on my windowsill, and sure enough, there he was, hands in his pockets as he stood before my condo door. So Alex was an eight-forty-five-means-eight-forty-five kind of guy.
“Is that Greyson’s dad?” Mia’s eyes widened. “Is he picking you up for work?” She grabbed me by the shoulders. “Is that why you’ve been a total weirdo all morning?”
