Jay
I can be un-Jay. And maybe I’m excited to see you tonight.
Hollis
Eager. It suits you. Does Jay the beertender wear his antler hat on dates?
Jay
There will be hats.
Hollis
I’m not sure how I feel about that sentence.
Jay
You should wear your Thanksgiving outfit, it will pair well with said hats.
Hollis
I’m cancelling tonight.
Jay
Cancelling is against the rules.
Hollis
Is it weird I miss Marv’s ambiguous texts?
Jay
Marv has an appeal even I can’t explain. Should I invite him on the date?
Hollis
Not if you want me to wear the Thanksgiving outfit.
Marv with a gun is a line I won’t cross, which is why I skipped today’s Holiday Club meetup of squirrel hunting in exchange for sleeping in and freaking out.
I’m going on a date.
With Jay.
Tonight.
When he picks me up, I pretend I didn’t pack a duffle and toss it into his back seat. He looks at me, mustache twitching. “You planning on staying a while?”
“That,” I say, voice pinched as I white knuckle the handle of the passenger door, “is because I’m a messy eater.”
“What a coincidence,” he says as he starts to drive, reaching across the center console and slipping his free hand around my thigh. “Me too.”
It takes maximum effort to not react to his touch, that innuendo, nor the visual both have conjured up, which involves his face between my legs.
I’m so nervous through his recap of hunting with Marv, what I tell him about the week with my kids, and everything else we discuss on the drive, it’s a mystery to me what is actually said. He might as well be speaking in Japanese. I haven’t been on a first date in twenty years, and I’ve never brought an overnight bag on one. Ever.
What kind of slut are you, Hollis?
