Troy
Be interested in her. Ask good questions
What is a good question?
Cash
Something that shows you’re listening
Wow, thanks captain obvious
Noah
Seriously, I don’t know how you won my sister over with advice like that
Cash
Do you really want to know? >
Noah
>
And that’s my cue to leave you idiots to yourselves
Cash
Good luck, you fucker
Noah
Asshole!
Troy
Hey!
You guys deserve it
Ican’t help the smile on my face as I shove my phone into my pocket. The buzzing won’t stop. The three of them can really get going when they want to.
I sip on the small glass of bourbon, taking in the quiet of the upscale bar around me. It’s not my usual place—all dark brown leather seats with dim lighting and candles on each table. There’s a room specifically for people smoking cigars—like it could be right out of a scene from a show set in the 1950s. Everyone from the wait staff to the hosts are all wearing the same outfit—impeccably pressed white shirt, black bowtie, and black pants.
It’s perfect for what I wanted tonight. I didn’t want to be seen tonight as a professional hockey player.
Because regardless of the guys incessant chirping, I really am crap at dates. I do my best to steel my nerves, but it’s not really working.
It’s not like I haven’t dated. I had a girlfriend in college. But she hated the fact that I played hockey. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that someone so smart—her words, not mine—would willingly put themselves in the goal every time there was a game.
First dates have never been my thing. Maybe I should be used to the awkwardness by now, but I’m not. I hate it. I never know what to say. I turn into a rambling idiot and scare the woman off within ten minutes. Five if I’m really on point.
I groan, sucking down another sip of the amber liquid. I best slow down; getting drunk won’t be the best first impression.
“Nick? What are you doing here?” A familiar voice startles me as I look up from my drink.
“Uhh, what? I mean, Ms. Hart?”
So much for not turning into a rambling idiot.
