“Help me not be so awkward with guys. Be my dating coach.”
I sputtered. “Your…what?”
“You know, like a life coach—but just for dating.”
I held up my hands. “No. No. No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? You’re…experienced. And I know I can talk to you, trust you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Wren…” But when I opened them, she looked so hopeful that, instead of immediately saying no, I asked, “How would it even work?”
“Well…I don’t know. We’d sort of figure it out as we went along. But I imagine you’d give me advice and coaching on how to not be such a dating disaster. I mean, I don’t even know how to sext or flirt or…anything.”
“But I haven’t dated in a while. My skills are rusty…”
“I’m sure your skills are just fine. Yeah.” She paused. “And while we’re talking about it—why don’t you?”
“Why don’t I…?”
“Date. You know there are tons of girls in town who are interested in you.”
I’d tried. I’d tried going on dates. Tried convincing myself that what I felt for Wren wasn’t real. But none of it had worked. In the end, I felt like a jerk. And I’d given up the pretense of dating, tired of leading women on.
I shook my head, not entirely sure which question I was responding to. Why didn’t I date? Would I be her dating coach?
“Please, Bennett?” She pouted. Damn her and that bottom lip. “I don’t want to die alone with a shriveled-up vag.”
“Whoa. Whoa.” I squeezed my eyes shut and crossed my arms in front of me. “Don’t put those images in my head.”
“It would be like one of those soggy-bottom pies onGBBO.Sad and not at all appealing. The pastry—”
“Stop.” I covered my ears and started humming a random song.
She tugged on my wrists, mouthing the words, “Shriveled like a prune.” And kept tugging, until finally, I relented.
I scowled. “You are literally the worst.”
“So, will you do it?”
I considered it, but I knew I’d cave in the end. It was Wren we were talking about. I’d do anything for her. Apparently, that now meant being her dating coach. Helping the woman I was crazy about score a guy—a guy who wasn’t me.
Fuck my life.
I didn’t have a good feeling about this, but what was I supposed to do?
Instead of committing to anything, I said, “Maybe we should start from the beginning. What have you been doing to try to meet someone?”
“After what happened with Lucas, I decided I was done with trying the old-fashioned way. So, I’ve sort of been…using a dating app.”
I chuckled. “Was that a question?” The way she’d said it—her voice rising at the end—it had certainly sounded like one.
“No. No.” She straightened. “I have a profile on LoveBirds.”
Thanks to my sister, I knew that LoveBirds was a dating app geared toward residents of the Alondra Valley. She’d mentioned it the last time I’d talked to her on the phone, suggesting—not too subtly—that I should sign up. I wasn’t sure what the point would be. It didn’t seem fair to date anyone else when I was in love with the woman sitting before me.
I nodded, rubbing a hand over my chin. “And how’s that going for you?”
“Okay. I guess. A few creepy messages, a few matches I wasn’t interested in, and a few that seem like they have potential.”
