But hey, never say never.
They’re here to impress men, and with a limited time to do so—five minutes per date—looks unavoidably become the firsthook...
As much as I want to detest the idea of having to spend the next two hours with twenty different women, I can’t deny the thrill coursing through my veins. It’s been months since I’ve done any socializing, and this sparkling anticipation is a clear sign my isolation wasn’t the best choice.
Swiveling to face my brothers, I arch an eyebrow at the mischief and cheap wisdom dancing in their eyes.
Cody leans in, grinning like a child on Christmas. “Alright, listen up. You’re out of practice, so you need a few pointers.”
“I’m out of practice?” I scoff, leaning against the counter, my gaze scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces. “Please. It’s been five years since you’ve done any flirting and I’m still more equipped to handle this than you ever were.”
“Dream on,” he mumbles, theatrically rolling his eyes. “You only have five minutes.”
“Ten. There are two rounds.”
“Smartass. Alright, fine. Two lots of five minutes. That’s still not much, so forget small talk. Ditch the standard date questions. If you ask their favorite color, they’ll lose interest faster than you can sayawkward. Don’t be boring, but don’t try too hard.”
Conor, always helpful, nods in agreement. “Yeah, and don’t brag. Don’t be a cliché. Don’t be predictable. Find the sweet spot in between. We clear?”
Do they really think they’re helping?
“So...unpredictable,” I summarize, tapping my fingers against the beer bottle. “I can’t believe you guys got wives by having a ‘favorite color’ as your standard date question. Who even asks that?”
They both look ready to swing for me.
“Alright, I hear you,” I continue before they take their chance. “I’ll make sure to leave a lasting impression.”
They look between each other, both unappeased, and Cody lifts a warning finger at me. “If you purposely fuck this up—”
“I won’t. Chill out. You’re acting like I haven’t been on a date before. I know what I’m doing. Just don’t get your hopes up.”
Cody crosses his arms, the scowl giving way to a knowing smirk. “I don’t expect this to work first time around. Consider tonight a practice run. You’ve been out of commission for months, bro. You’re a bit rusty.”
“Don’t come on too strong,” Conor chips in. “Keep it light.”
“Not too strong, huh? I should be as chill as you were with Vivienne? You wore her down until she caved. Too strong worked for you, so maybe it’ll work for me?”
He shakes his head. “No way. You lack my charm, and Cody’s right; you’ve been out of the game too long. Just find your rhythm and don’t look so sour. It’ll be fun! You never know what hidden treasures you might find.”
“Hidden treasures?” I cock an eyebrow, chugging half my beer. When did he get so sappy? “That a bedtime story you’re reading the twins? If there are any treasures here, they’re hidden in a minefield of potential awkwardness.”
Cody throws an arm around my shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “Hate all you want but give it a fair shot.” He yanks me closer, lowering his voice. “Look at the girls by the stairs. They’re all pretty.”
I follow his line of sight and my eyes are naturally drawn to a deep, rich purple dress.
Purple is my favorite color.
The girl wearing it is standing with friends, but I don’t notice anything about them. I focus on her thick, heavy, waist-long, chocolate-brown hair. It hides most of her face as she turns between two girls who hang on her arms much like Conor and Cody flank mine.
She turns again, tucking a handful of strands behind her ear as if she senses my gaze and is trying to offer a better look. I’m a fucking goner as I catch sight of her lips. Full and juicy, ready to be bitten. Barely a hint of raspberry color: a faint lip stain or natural shade, either way, it suits her.
I treat myself to a cursory once-over. Cody’s right. She’s pretty, but an exasperated look paints her face—upturned nose, eyes rolling. Paired with the in-your-face sexy dress, she gives off a pick-me-girl vibe. An attention-seeking flirt. It’s hardly a good first impression, but under closer scrutiny, her posture suggests she’s uncomfortable with it.
She tugs the hem lower, even though her dress doesn’t reveal much skin, grazing two inches above her knees. Long sleeves add an illusion of modesty most men wouldn’t notice, more prone to eyeing her soft tits peeking from the plunging neckline.
I’m more interested in the way she holds her glass of red wine. Knowing her drink preference will be useful later, but that’s not why I noticed. It’s because she doesn’t hold the glass like every other girl here. No, she’s pinching the stem between her thumb and forefinger, and that means she either comes from money or, at the very least, she’s well-versed in high-end table etiquette.
I should probably stop staring, but... I can’t. She looks like a girl on a mission. Determined, resolute... not a shy bone in her body.
