He glances at me, and there is no judgment, frustration, or anger in his eyes. Just his usual warmth.
“Morning,” he says, his smile showing off his straight, pearly white teeth.
“Morning,” I grunt. “I thought the voicemail would’ve been you calling in today. I wouldn’t have blamed you after the way I behaved yesterday. Which, I’m totally sorry about, by the way. It’ll never happen again. I hope. Did I mention how sorry I am? Cuz I’m really fucking sorry.”
Yes, Sunshine, babble some more. That’ll help fix the awkwardness you’re feeling.
His lush lips quirk in an easy grin as he politely tries to stifle the laugh clearly bubbling up. “It wasn’t a problem. I promise. I checked the voicemail already, and it turns out the funeral scheduled for Thursday afternoon is canceled. Mr. Jerryisn’t actually dead. Turns out zombies can be tricky to find a pulse in. Who knew?”
“Yeah, that’s fairly common in this industry,” I murmur, distracted by his Adam's apple bobbing as he sips his coffee.
“I was wondering…” he starts at the same time that I say, “Thank you for yesterday.”
We both chuckle awkwardly, and I take a large gulp of coffee to avoid saying something unhinged likeWhy don’t you want to have sex with me?
“You first,” he says, gesturing at me with his coffee mug.
“I was just going to say thank you. For yesterday. I said sorry earlier, but I never said thanks. So… Thanks.”
All I want right now is a long walk off a short cliff.
His lips curve into a beautiful smile, and he bows his head in a small nod.
“Maybe as repayment, you could go on a date with me,” he says, radiating cool, calm, and confident.
I swear my heart stops. I’ve died. I got that long walk after all. There’s no way this insanely beautiful alpha is asking me on a date. That only happens to people like me in cheesy Hallmark romcoms.
I secretly love those movies.
“That sounds like something I could maybe, possibly be interested in,” I say, trying to flirt, but coming off as deadpan and monotone instead. I sigh heavily in embarrassment and drop my chin onto my chest.
“Perfect. I have everything planned already. Meet me downstairs at six.”
“Meet me downstairs at six,” I mutter in a deep, mocking voice to my mirror as I get ready for my date.
No details. No dress code. No clue.
I don’t know if this is a ‘wear jeans and chill’ kind of date or if it’s a ‘rooftop cocktail bar’ date. Doesn’t he know I have anxiety? What was he thinking dropping this on me with no notice and no info?
I stare at what I’m wearing now and decide I look too much like a youth pastor in my light blue button-down and khakis. Maybe it would look better if I didn’t part my hair down the middle.
I run my hands spastically over my head, messing up an hour of taming and wince when my fingers inevitably get stuck in the gel I used way too much of.
I practice my smile next, checking my teeth for imperfections, like I might have eaten broccoli since the last time I checked, and it will embarrass me by sitting between my two front teeth. I cringe at how big I’m smiling. I don’t want to look like a serial killer or a psychopath.
Are all serial killers psychopaths? I know not all psychopaths are serial killers.
I pull out my flash cards and add that to the list of topics I prepared and practice them in the mirror… because I’m normal and that’s what normal people do.
“So… do you… like funerals? No. Horrible,” I groan in frustration. “How did your childhood shape you into who youare today? Urgh! What is this, an interview?” I try one more time. “Hi, how are you doing on this lovely seventy-two degree evening? Much better. Easy breezy.”
The house creaks, and I can’t tell if it’s agreeing with me or laughing at me. I decide to think positively. It was totally agreeing with me. I am nailing this whole first date thing already.
My phone dings with a text from Ember telling me he’s on his way, and I feel all the color drain from my already painfully pale face.
“Holy shit!” I squeak. “How the fuck is it already five forty-five?”
I shuck off my church-like khakis and get back into the dark-wash jeans I’d tried earlier. Still not great, but definitely better than preaching about the gods to the youths.
