Page 7 of Just Keep Driving

Biting a taco has never turned me on, but I’d hop in the back seat of his little hybrid car right now with him, if he asked me to.

He wouldn’t though. And that makes me want him more.

He’s just being nice. He could tell I had a rough date, and he’s trying to smooth it out. That’s all. It’s all for a five star rating. Little does he know, I’m easy and if you get me home safely, you get five stars.

“Yeah, I rate hairlines and shoes and dates with a point system.”

“How do you do dates? Let’s rate mine.”

He wipes his hands in a napkin and rubs his hand together. “Now you’re talking.”

I pull a leg up under me and get comfortable.

“So everyone starts with 100. If you get below passing, you’re out.”

I nod. “That makes sense.”

“Cool, so what did homie do when you walked in?”

“He stood up and commented that my ass is fatter than he thought.”

Champs eyes go wide, then he nods a little.

I slap his arm.

“Dude ain’t wrong, but that’s an inside thought. We deduct 5 points for not pulling your chair out, and another 5 for not greeting you properly.”

Frowning, I ask, “Does everything have the same weight?”

“No, but I know he’s about to get a zero, and I want to lay it all out.”

“You’re just dragging me for staying as long as I did.”

“If you’d left any earlier, we wouldn’t be right here.”

Add 10 points for that line to Champ’s scorecard.

Eventually, Frank gets a -15, and I get a mini lecture about knowing my worth.

“Tell me about your worst date?”

He scrubs his hand down his face. “Please no.”

I laugh and reach for his forearm, giving it a squeeze. “Oh, now you have to tell me.”

He puts his elbows on the table and rests his face in his hand. “I thought it was dinner for two. She seemed cool. We coordinated the date a week in advance. She should’ve been straight.”

I hold my breath because I have no idea where he’s going with this.

“She comes into the restaurant, up to our table for two with her three kids.”

“Shut the hell up!”

He raises his hand in the air, then crosses his heart with one. “Swear.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, they had to move us to a booth, bust out the kids’ menus and a booster seat for her toddler.”