Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Still. When a man asks a lady out—”
“This isn’t the old days, unfortunately, cool as that would be. This is now, and I’m no lady. I might be a female, but I’m a female who says I can pay for my own crab legs. I want to pay for my own crab legs. I can pay for my own crab legs. So just let me pay, and we won’t have an issue.”
“Will you walk out with them in your purse again?”
“This time, I’ll probably ask for a to-go container. I was sort of making a point last time and didn’t want to stick around long enough to ask for one. That was probably quite a scene. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry. I found it quite entertaining.”
“No, you didn’t.” He didn’t. I know he didn’t.
“In hindsight.”
He still didn’t. “In hindsight, I give myself two cringes for that.”
“Are you apologizing?”
I hate that he seems shocked. I can admit my wrongs. “No. But it’s done, and this meeting will be much better. Smoother. No lies, and no getting grouchy. Just a sheet of facts and learning how to react to each other’s body language and cues.” That’s probably the best way I can term that.
I need it to have terms in my mind. I need to know what we’re doing. A meeting sounds so much better than a fake date because it’s still going out together, which kind of makes it sound like a date. We’re not friends, but even two friends meeting for drinks or dinner can still sometimes go way off the rails. That’s not going to happen. We’re not dates, and we’re not friends. We’re co-workers having a non-related work meeting.
Fuck.
I guess those sometimes go sideways, too.
“Anyway,” I say in a rush, hoping my face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Let me know the place and time. I’ll meet you there.”
Maybe he did choose the right moment to corner me in here because he nods, turns around, and strides out. And no, I do not get fixated on his bottom as he leaves. I remember myself. Even if I nearly forget my coffee, the reason I came in here, and everything else.
Chapter eight
Mont
Ifeel like an old boot. Erm, an old heel. I’m not up to par with my old lingo.
I also feel like a mama’s boy. I never thought that could be me. I moved out when I was eighteen and went to college. Yes, we had family money, but I made my own way with it. I can admit that I got more than my fair share of help from my parents, but I didn’t want to sit on that and let their accomplishments speak for me. I wanted to do something on my own merit.
I guess that this week, I’ve just been thinking a lot about how I got here. I know I mentioned it before, but it hasn’t stopped. I don’t know why I took charge of the rest of my life but not my love life. I still don’t know why I just couldn’t force out that one simple word.
No.
My mom thinks not living life to the fullest is basically like being dead. I love her, but she has life as an hourglass image in her head, where time is constantly running out. It doesn’t matter that I’m still young, or that I’m busy, or that I’m not ready for the level of commitment she wants to force on me.
Looking at it all from this moment, I feel utterly silly. A grown man in this predicament. No wonder Evilla has so much scorn and disbelief when it comes to this. To me. To all of my life.
I plan on making this (not a) date the least about scorn and disbelief as it can be. What I want is what I said. I think if we got to know each other better, we might find that we could sort of be friends or at least be okay with working together.
I know, I know. I forced the situation. I can’t undo that, but I can try and make the best of this going forward if there even is a best to be made. As much as I would like to call the whole thing off, I’ve trapped myself. I’ve trapped Evilla. We might have made a bargain in the end, but I still feel like an ass.
So I try to pick the best-darned crab place in the city.
Correction: The best-darned crab place on a budget in the city.
I get there early, pick a table, and sip an unsweetened iced tea while I wait. I don’t mind people watching, and the small restaurant is packed. It’s a little mom-and-pop shop with all the walls painted bright, vibrant colors. It’s pink on one side, blue on the other, and yellow on the far end. From the fake palm trees to the beachy photos, fishing nets, lighthouses, painted wooden ships, and other décor hanging on the walls, this place is tropically vibing.