Everyone knows that’s not how it works anyway. I’ve never seen dating advice that saysTo snag yourself a good man, fuck him before you know his last name. In fact, virtually all dating advice says the opposite—that no straight man is going to respect or want to date someone who puts out immediately.
So, like,obviouslyI had no expectations beyond some orgasms. Which were excellent.
“I didn’t think about it,” he says. “It was the first stupid thing that came to mind. I shouldn’t have lied.”
“You didn’t need to spare feelings I wasn’t going to have.”
“Yes. Clearly,” he says, and now he rolls his eyes. “I’msorry. It was stupid. Lo siento. Désolé. If you give me a minute, I can maybe remember Arabic, too—willthathelp?”
I glare at him and sigh and then look away because he does have a point. Which is annoying, because I kind of want to stay mad for another minute.
“No,” I grumble. “Is that all you lied about?”
“It’s not like we did much talking,” Javier says, and I give him a look. He shrugs. “I was really at that bar with a friend I was deployed with, if that helps. I was also really taking graphic design classes. Did I tell you anything else?”
I clear my throat, because he told me plenty that night but not much about himself. “I don’t think so.”
Javier goes quiet, this tall, solidpresenceout here, looking down at the koi fish like they’re gonna help.
“I’d been out of rehab for six weeks,” he tells the fish. “It was my third stint, and I really, really wanted it to stick. But there I was, at abar, watching people drink, and I couldn’t stop staring at you, and I didn’t quite feel in control and didn’t want to admit any of that, so I made something up.”
I take a deep breath, roll my shoulders, and then release it, because I know when it’s time to give up being mad and move on. It’s not like he can travel back in time and undo it, and he can’t apologize much more, so I can be over it.
“Okay. Thanks,” I say, and he looks at me, eating a spoonful of ice cream. I do not watch his mouth.
“That’s it? We’re good?”
“Gracias. S’il vous plaît,” I say, a little sarcastic.
“That’splease.”
“Look, we can’t all know French.”
“You don’t knowmerci?”
Oh. Right. “Merci.Kwa-sawnt.”
“Wow, you’re practically fluent.”
I take a long, slow bite of mostly melted ice cream and watch Javier’s face for a minute. “You lied to get into my pants,” I point out. “You don’t get to make fun of me.”
“It was a skirt, and you just spent the last five minutes telling me I didn’t have to.”
“That’s completely beside the point.”
Javier’s smiling now, and he’s relaxed a little. Still in his nice slacks and nice button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his hair back because it’s humid as balls. It’s not hard to remember why I took him home so fast.
“Fine,” he says, his spoon scraping the bottom of the bowl. “Should we talk about how we’re about to be related?”
“By marriage,” I point out, even though he knows, because I really feel like that part can’t be emphasized enough.
Javier just rolls his eyes. “Yes. By marriage. Anyway, I think I’d rather swim naked with piranhas than tell my mom that we’ve met before. You?”
“We could just say we’ve met and leave out exactly how,” I point out.
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure the second you saw me you shouted, ‘WOW, I’VE NEVER MET YOU BEFORE,’ so that might be a little suspicious.”
I snort. “You’re the one who was all ‘WHAT AN EXCELLENT FIRST MEETING!’ as soon as you came through the door.” I eat the last of my goopy-but-delicious ice cream. “But I take your point. And honestly, I would also rather swim naked with some horrible animal than tell my dad we slept together.”
