Cassie’s face twisted in disbelief. “You do realize that’s not how dates work, right?”
Jackson rolled his eyes like we were being dramatic. “Whatever. I don’t need someone more uptight than I already am.”
Uptight. I smiled—tight, sharp, teeth baring.
“Right,” I said, lifting my nearly empty vodka cran and draining it in one long gulp. I set it down with a satisfying clink. “Thanks for the drink.”
Then I turned and walked away without looking back.
Behind me, I could hear Cassie mutter under her breath, “Such an asshole,” before she followed.
The moment we pushed through the bar’s door and into the open air, the cold slapped us like it knew what kind of night it had been. The heat and chaos of the dive bar vanished, replaced by sharp December air that stung against my cheeks and cut through the fabric of my coat.
I glanced down at my phone.
You just let me know when you need me to call.
All good. Solved itself.
Oh, this has got to be a good one.
Oh, it was. Maybe not good for my love life, but this one? It was gold for story time. Definitely the shortest date of the season so far. Eight minutes, maybe nine.
A new record.
Out of all of them, this one left me with a cocktail of emotions I hadn’t expected. Angry. Appalled. Slightly amused. Honestly, Ididn’t even know what I was feeling—but I was feeling a lot. My brain was still catching up.
I turned to see Cassie still standing behind me, phone in hand.
“Do you want to share a car?” she asked. “We can split it so you’re not walking alone or anything. It’s way too cold.”
I blinked, surprised by the offer. “Yeah … yeah, sure. Thanks.”
It was too late for the metro anyway.
As we waited on the curb, she wrapped her scarf tighter and muttered, “God, this is why I don’t go on dates anymore.”
I let out a dry laugh. “I wish I could say the same.”
“You go on a lot lately?”
I hesitated. “Kind of. I have this … thing with some friends and friends of friends. A pact, sort of. Twelve blind dates before Christmas.”
Cassie raised her eyebrows. “Twelve? You’re kidding.”
I shook my head.
“What date is this one?”
“Um, too many.”
She whistled. “I wish you luck.”
“Thanks.” I was clearly going to need it.
“It’s just wild to me that in the world, this is what we get? This is all that is available to us? I feel like by the time you hit thirty, it’s all weirdos or married guys or guys who were married, which makes you wonder if they can handle a serious relationship again or if they are just a man child.”
I laughed.
