She also didn’t RSVP for the Saturday night GoWithFriends event. Not that I could blame her. Our group wanted to go see the new dragon shifter movie together. The overdramatic preview ended with the half-dragon guy shouting, “I’d rather die a mortal man with you by my side than live a million years breathing fire without you.” It was followed by some serious mouth Olympics against a fiery background that came from literally nowhere. Flames just happened to spontaneously combust every time they kissed.
Back in our high school days, we would have thrown popcorn at the screen and later recited the lines at each other every chance we could work it into a conversation. That might not go over well in our GoWithFriends group, considering therewere more than a few hardcore dragon shifter fans who would probably get offended. Also, I was much too aware now of what custodial workers had to do to get a theater cleaned up to throw popcorn anywhere but into my mouth.
On Friday night, I put on one of my trusty tuxes I’d accumulated over the years and drove my newly detailed Audi over to pick up Blaire. I tried not to think too much about what Grace and Piper might be doing on a night like tonight. Was Grace cheating at Chutes and Ladders? Were they dancing without me? Was it spaghetti night? They’d made spaghetti for me once and brought it to my house. It was an old recipe from Grace’s grandmother.
Blaire lived in a condo in a posh gated community in Scottsdale. I punched in her number at the gate, and after she answered through the intercom, the gates opened to let me in. She came out her door just as I parked and was strolling up to get her.
“Hello, Dean. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” She leaned forward expectantly, so I kissed her cheek in greeting, my lips barely touching her skin. She had on a lot of makeup and perfume, none of which I wanted on me, nor did I want to smudge anything. I took a step back while she turned and locked her door with the press of a button. Then I put my hand to the small of her back, leading her over to the side of my Audi.
“You look beautiful,” I said, finally taking in what she was wearing. My concentration rarely wavered, but tonight I was feeling curiously detached. My focus jumped from trivial detail to trivial detail, and then back to thoughts I shouldn’t be having, like how much I wished this night was already over.
I only remembered to notice her dress because my hand was on her bare skin, as her dress dipped all the way down in the back. It was cream colored, silky, and clingy in all the right places, and I’d never cared less in my life.
She looked me over. “I like your tux. Is it a Tom Ford?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so.” She touched her sleek, dark hair hesitantly, like she was making sure it was still in place behind the gold bar pin she had holding up one side of it. It didn’t look like a single part of it would dare move in a category-three storm, but what did I know?
I opened the passenger door for her and took her hand while she lifted her dress to get in. On previous dates like this, I would have driven the Bentley Continental my mother gifted me for my twenty-fifth birthday. But it had been a totally unnecessary gift and showing it off made me feel like a poser.
“Have you been to this charity gala before?” Blaire asked, once I got in and backed us out of her driveway.
“I went last year. My parents were there as well.”
“Yes, Barbara told me about it. I’m sorry. My excitement over possibly attending tonight is what had her running to give you a nudge in my direction. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” I looked over at her, surprised to see her hesitation was genuine. She got that this was awkward. I’d never been more relieved in my life.
Until one finger traced down the back of my hand resting on the console. “Let’s treat this like any other date, and I think we’ll be fine.”
I continued to stare out the windshield. There was a fine line between discouraging someone and insulting them, and I was not in the right frame of mine to navigate that well. No doubt, my mother had repeated to her that I was not currently dating anyone, so I couldn’t claim differently. I could say it was new, but then why would I be on this date? Solely out of obligation? That wouldn’t make her feel better.
As good a friend as my mother claimed she was, Blaire could do real harm to my mother’s social circle if she wanted to. She was young, beautiful, and connected. I had asked her to come with me tonight, and the only way through was forward.
“Do you like music?” I asked.
“I’ll find us something.” She flipped through the Sirius XM channels, and settled on Watercolors, a channel that played smooth jazz. “Is this okay?”
“It’s fine.” She had the volume down low enough for me to barely register it anyway.
“Am I making you nervous?” she asked coyly.
“No.” My gaze focused on the black Jeep in front of us with the license plate WASH ME. They squealed forward when the light turned green. I bet they were going somewhere fun. I had this weird urge to follow them and show Blaire what any other date with me would actually look like.
“Bad day at work?” she asked. “I’ve had plenty of those.”
Clearly, she needed a reason why I wasn’t in love with her already.
“I’ve had better.” I told her about one of my meetings where things had gotten heated today. The two sides both had valid issues with the other party, and it took a lot of negotiation to make everyone happy. I’d left the meeting energized. Conflict resolution was my jam. It wasn’t a bad day at all, but it was true that I’d had better.
We swapped work stories the rest of the way, but Blaire grew silent when we followed the signs leading us to the ballroom entrance in the Biltmore parking lot and joined the line leading up to the valet turn-in. A red Porsche Carrera was ahead of us, and we watched and waited while the driver got out and handed over his key fob. The guy’s tux was an electric green, and his tuxedo pants were a little bit highwater, showing off that he wore no socks. He kept his sunglasses on while he sauntered up to the entrance. I’m sure his parents would be thrilled.
“How did you meet my mother?” I asked Blaire.
“Barbara and I were on the planning committee for a women’s luncheon to honor women in architecture.”
