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“It seems weird that you’re going on so many. Where are you finding the women? Is there an actual swimming pool full of them?”
“I don’t understand why you’re going out on, like, Tuesday nights? Do these chicks work weekends?”
“How did you meet them?”
I screech to a stop, bending over and putting my hands to my knees, and he comes around in front of me, jogging in place while he does, the bastard.
I don’t think he’s beat me in a run—or any athletic competition of any sort—in years. I didn’t realize it until now, but apparently a simultaneous interrogation is the tool he needed to give him an edge.
“All right, all right, Jesus.” I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “You’re right, okay? It’s not just an uptick in my dating. I’m…I’m kind of doing a thing with the SoCal Tribune. Have you heard of the Bachelor Anonymous contest?”
Garrett’s smile is annoyingly pervasive. I bet if the astronauts at the Space Station looked down here, they’d be able to spot the glow of it. “I haven’t, but I can tell you, hearing it now is probably the best thing ever.”
I flip him off.
“So, what? How does this work? And how in the fuck did you end up doing it? A newspaper contest called Bachelor Anonymous. I’m dying, dude.”
I scowl, trying to think of the most succinct way to explain the whole fucking cluster. I only half understand why I’m doing it myself. Explaining it to someone else feels nearly impossible.
“Chloe entered me without telling me, and I got picked to be…the main guy or whatever.”
“And what?”
“I go on dates with five different women who applied to be a part of it, and at the end, I’m supposed to pick one to continue dating.”
“Holy shit.” His nostrils flare as his eyes widen in delight, so rather than pause to listen to anything he might be close to saying, I carry on.
“Anyway, this woman…Holley…she’s in charge of the whole thing and writes articles about all of it as it goes along.”
“That’s amazing. So, you just date multiple women and don’t feel bad about it?”
I shake my head. “It’s not really like that. I go on one date with each of them. It’s not like it’s super deep. And some of them, man, you wouldn’t be into. They’re attractive, but like I told Holley…” I laugh as I think of some of the jokes Holley and I came up with during dessert at MoMo Milan after dinner with Bianca. “…Dumber than a bag of rocks.”
Garrett’s eyebrows draw together as he considers me. “And this Holley lady? What’s she like?”
I smile. Thinking of all the things that Holley is and how best to describe them in a way Garrett will understand. “She’s fun. We get along really well even though she’s kind of a mess.” I laugh as I think of her wrecking the four-wheeler on my date with Rachel over the weekend. She seemed a little sore Saturday night but otherwise okay. And I texted her yesterday to see how she was feeling, but she just sent me a GIF of Kim Kardashian lying in bed with the covers up to her chin followed by the thumbs-up emoji. I took her ability to joke about it as a good sign. “But she has a good sense of humor and has definitely made the whole thing a little more enjoyable.”
“How often do you see her?”
“Most days, I guess.” I shrug one shoulder. “We have to get together to plan the dates beforehand, and then we usually meet up afterward to kind of do a rundown on everything that happened. She’s there on the dates too, but obviously, we don’t really get to talk much then.”
“She comes on the dates with you?”
“Yeah. In the background kind of thing. So she can take notes for her articles.”
He nods, and I unexpectedly find myself sharing more. “She was over on Saturday night after the date, and Chloe talked her into giving her some makeup tutorials and shit.” I smirk. “You know how she’s been pushing for lessons and stuff.”
“So, Chloe likes her?”
“Oh yeah. They get along really well. Except Holley can’t figure out what Chloe’s talking about any better than you and I can. The slang is almost out of hand at this point. She tried to convince us one night that ‘snatch’ means something other than pussy.”
A small smile plays at his lips, but he doesn’t say much else. After a seriously compelling moment in which I said both the word snatch and pussy, I’m at a loss for why he’s so quiet.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he deflects, but I push.
“What?”
“It’s just…you have a lot to say about Holley, dude. Like, a lot. And I don’t think I’ve even heard you mention any of the other women’s names.”
I try to decide if that’s true or not. I guess it is, but it’s bound to happen. I see Holley five times more than I see any of the other women.
