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I look back over to the counter to Jake again. He’s leaning against the glass of the dessert case, and his phone is to his ear. He’s smiling and laughing, and for one tiny, irrational moment, I freak out that he might be telling someone about me and my messages.
But I realize pretty quickly how incredibly self-centered that thinking is. He has other things going on in his life—lots of them. He doesn’t need or want to spend all his time spreading info around about me.
I shake my head at myself and look back down to my phone. I only let myself feel slightly strange that the messages from my dad are the only messages I’m getting. Clearly, I don’t want to miss having a girlfriend to confide in, but if I open up that Pandora’s box, I’ll have to admit that I’ve never really had one.
My dad is the closest thing I’ve got. On that note, my phone buzzes again. I sigh as I pick it up and read it. My dad is persistent, I’ll give him that. I haven’t even responded to any of these texts, but that hasn’t stopped him from charging onward toward Crazy Town.Dad: You need a vibrator? I’m into hip Christmas gifts. I could find one for ya somewhere, I’m sure. I bet the flea market has a selection at good prices.Oh, for fuck’s sake. Seriously? I think it’s officially time to pack it up for the day. Because I doubt it’s possible to recover from this.
Eventually, I find the strength to respond from my hole in the earth after being swallowed right up. It’s at least cool enough for sweatshirt-wearing. I might be okay to stay here for a while.Me: Please. I beg of you to stop right now. Never utter those words to me again, Dad. PLEASE.Jake takes the seat across from me once again and sets down my coffee. I reach for it like the desperate woman I am and down about a quarter of it in one gulp.
I gasp though, because—goodbye, taste buds!—coffee is hot.
“Jesus,” Jake remarks. “Are you okay?”
I nod, though I’m not entirely sure I don’t have third-degree burns on the inside of my mouth and down my throat.
“Oh yeah,” I croak. “Great.”
He raises his eyebrows, skeptical, but I choose not to respond.
Instead, I wave him off and dig in my bag to pull out the folder on Bianca, Bachelorette Number One.
The sooner we get down to the real reason for being here and move away from me, you know, mortifying myself in every way humanly possible, the better.
“What’s that?” Jake asks as I move my coffee cup over to open it in front of me.
“It’s a dossier on your first woman.”
“A dossier, huh?” He quirks a sarcastic brow. “I didn’t know the Tribune was a front for the CIA.”
I squint my eyes. “It’s not, like, her blood type or anything. Just basic details she filled out on a questionnaire. You know, like the one you refused to fill out…”
He grins.
“Anyway, I figured it would help us since you’re so keen on creating a date specific to the woman.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he says defensively.
Realizing my tone, I correct it swiftly. “No, no. You’re right. It is a good idea. If you’re trying to get to know these women in one night, it’s best to do it in an environment in which they’ll thrive.”
I flip the first page over since it’s nothing more than personal details and move on to the second. “Let’s see here,” I say, scrolling over her answers with a finger on the paper and my tongue between my lips.
“It says here that she’s a big traveler. Loves to try new foods. Hmm,” I hum, reading the next line. “She’s not officially a food critic, but according to this, she kind of fancies herself as one.”
Amusement pops from his lips. “Wow. You don’t like her.”
I look up, shocked. “What? What do you mean?”
“You didn’t hear the way you said that?” he asks, and I scrunch up my nose in confusion.
“No. What did I say?”
“It’s not really what you said but how you said it.”
“Isn’t that something women normally say to men?”
He points at me with a knowing stare. “Don’t deflect, Holley.”
I shake my head and look back down at the paper, reminding myself not to be so fucking transparent. Just because I know Bianca is the blond-bob-sporting, slightly ditzy woman from my initial meeting with his dates doesn’t mean I should go coloring his view of her before he meets her.
I’m extra conscious of my tone as I read aloud the next question on the list.
“Does she have any food aversions?” I slide my finger down to her answer. “None to speak of!” I clap my hands in front of myself, and Jake smirks. “Well, that’s good.”
