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She hoots with laughter. “Well, let’s not get too crazy now. They gave me Monday and Wednesday nights—the bargain basement time slots. And it’s not even a paid gig. Did I mention that yet? Ha! All this excitement for an unpaid gig!” She giggles uproariously. “The only money I’ll get paid is whatever customers generously stuff into my tip jar. But I don’t even care about making money. I’d pay them to get to do this gig. If needed, I’ll pick up some more shifts at the café. Or get another student loan. All that matters is this amazing chance for me to become a better performer, right?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
She sighs happily. “Oh, Fish. I couldn’t have done this without you. The things you said to me—” She abruptly stops talking and gasps.
“Ally?”
She says something offline in a muffled voice. And then gasps again. “Matthew Fishberger!” she shouts at me. “I got your flowers!”
My heart bursts with excitement. “I was hoping they’d make it on time.”
“I just walked into my apartment and my roommate handed me the biggest, most spectacular bouquet I’ve ever seen in my entire life!”
“Red roses, I hope?”
“Yes! They’re the deepest, most romantic and passionate red the world has ever seen!” There’s a pause. “Oh, they smell incredible! Thank you!”
My phone pings and I look down to find a photo of Alessandra holding a large bouquet of red roses.
“Wow. Beautiful,” I say, my heart bursting. “And the flowers are pretty, too.”
“Aw, Matthew. How’d you get my address?”
“Kat got it from Georgina.”
“Georgie didn’t say a word!”
“Yeah, it’s this crazy thing called a surprise.”
She squeals. “Thank you!”
I chuckle. “The only expression of gratitude I want from you, besides this beautiful photo, is to finally hear you play ‘Blindsided’ for me. Now that you’ve played it at an audition, your ‘Georgina First’ rule no longer applies.”
“Good point.”
“Call me back on video chat. You can play it for me now.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to change my clothes real quick and race to work.”
“A likely story.”
She giggles. “It’s true. How about I play it for you later tonight?”
“Shoot. I’m going to be in a writing sesh with the Goats until late. We’ve all agreed to turn off our phones and power it out. I was just waiting to turn off my phone until I’d heard from you.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“I’m flying to Seattle tomorrow. We’re filming a tourism spot on Thursday, then doing dinner at the Morgans’ that same night. I might have time after dinner on Thursday, but with you three hours ahead, I don’t have high hopes.”
“I’m free Friday during the day,” she says, “but I know you’re doing your interview with Georgina in Seattle that day.”
“Yeah, we’re going to give Georgina a tour of ‘our Seattle.’”
Alessandra says, “Georgina is really excited about it. Oh, when you see her, don’t ask her about Reed. They’re still broken up, and she’s heartbroken about it.”
“I won’t say a word. What’d Georgie say about your new gig at the coffeehouse? I can only imagine how loudly she shrieked when you told her.”
“I haven’t told Georgie yet. I called you first.”
My heart stops. “I’m honored.”
I can hear her smiling across the phone line. “Of course. I got the gig, thanks to you. Well, you and Reed. But, obviously, I can’t call him.”
“Prick.”
“No. He was right.”
“Nope. So, did we figure out a time for our next date, and I missed it?”
“No, we got off track. How about Friday night, after your interview with Georgie in Seattle? I’m free that night.”
“It’s a date!”
“Woo-hoo! Our third,” she says coyly. “How exciting.”
“No, our fourth, by my count.”
“Our fourth? How do you figure?”
“Well, we met at Reed’s pre-party. So, that’s ground zero. Our ‘meet-cute,’ if you will. When we saw each other again at Reed’s party, after specifically agreeing at the pre-party to hang out again later, that was our first official date. Our second happened on Sunday night, when we video chatted and watched This Is the End. But—loophole alert!—after the movie that night, as you’ll recall, we hung up to change into our pajamas, before reconvening. Which means, my dear, the clock reset at that point.”
“It did?”
“Yes. When we talked again, in our pajamas, and wound up talking for almost two more hours, that qualified, under a little known loophole, as a totally new and different date than our movie date earlier. Which means this Friday night will be our fourth date.”
“I like that loophole,” she says, her voice intimate and sexy. “I’ve never been on a fourth date before. That feels kind of . . . serious.”
My cock is tingling at the flirtatious tone in her voice. “Oh, it is. Very, very serious.”
“Although, I should confess I’ve never been on a first, second, or third date, either. Much less a fourth. So I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
