Page 52 of Seven Rules for Breaking Hearts

Season Two, Episode Nine—Defining “Dating”

24 min 51 sec

Jo: We’ve got an anonymous question here, submitted through our website form—this listener asks, “What are your thoughts on casual dating?”

Go: Personally, not my thing. But, you know, there’s a reason we didn’t include it in the rules. Lots of people, you meet someone on a dating app, the first thing they’re gonna want to do is meet up somewhere to get to know each other.

Jo: But you don’t like doing that.

Go: I’m not trying to get to know anyone.

Jo: For me, I think it really depends on how we’re defining “dating.” You’re grabbing coffee together, not signing a marriage certificate.

Go: But I mean, what’s the point, then? The whole purpose of going on dates is talking, asking each other questions. It’s one thing to go out for drinks first, just to make sure they’re who they say they are, but it’s another to actually spend that quality time. Like, everything you’re doing has to have an end goal. What’s the end goal of getting to know someone? Usually, it’s a relationship. So if you’re committed to staying single, I just don’t see the point.

CHAPTER19

The Crab Shack was one of those small, hole-in-the-wall places where the lighting was always dim no matter the time of day and the walls were cluttered with black-and-white photos of local history. Oceanic accoutrements—nets and life rings and rusted lobster traps—dangled from the exposed beam ceiling. But it had a decent menu and prices that didn’t make my eyes bug out of my head, which made it a reasonable choice for a group dinner.

“These are a lot bigger than the one that got me,” Peter said when the food arrived, comparing his injured finger to the disembodied claws on the platter in the middle of the table. He’d gone on a guided scuba-diving tour after the cake tasting earlier today; according to Jo, he had level three amateur scuba certification, which—if I was being honest—was higher than I would’ve expected from him.

“That’s because these are imported from Alaska,” Jo explained, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers and press the injured finger to her lips. “It’s a whole different kind of crab.”

Peter turned adoring eyes on her. “You know so much.” He patted her hair, which was currently twisted up in a pair of fun buns on either side of her head. “I swear there’s a dictionary in there somewhere.”

“Encyclopedia,” I corrected him, but no one seemed to hear me, because the compliments had devolved into some serious PDA, turning the rest of the wedding party into third-through-seventh wheels. I was sitting next to Autumn. Declan had stolen the seat on the other side of me, but otherwise, we hadn’t spoken since my promise in the hotel parking lot. I meant it when I told him I would think things through, but how long did he plan to wait?

“But I thought JPL was a campus, though,” Autumn was saying. “That’s what my physics teacher told us in high school.”

Declan had an arm leaned on the table, his free hand digging a chip into the spinach and artichoke dip. “They call it a campus, but no one actually holds classes there. It’s more referring to the layout. Lots of separate buildings.”

“So, you’re staying in Pasadena, then?” Liv asked from the other side of the table.

Declan wobbled his head back and forth as he finished chewing. “More like Glendale.”

“NoHo to Glendale isn’t a far drive,” I said. If I hopped on the 5, I could make it from my place to his in maybe fifteen minutes.

Liv snickered. “That’s practically a road trip.”

She wasn’t wrong. The drive might’ve been fifteen minutes on a good day, but your average day in L.A. was not usually a good day as far as traffic was concerned. Most people didn’t set their dating apps to a radius wider than five miles, because five miles could take an hour if the universe decided to screw you.

Beneath the table, Declan nudged me with his knee. “Driving to come see me?”

I grinned despite myself. “No promises.”

His eyes searched my face. “I’d like that.” There was a pause, during which all the possibilities flashed through my mind. “Though if you’re hoping to stay the night—”

“Could somebody pass me the crab legs?” Lucas interrupted. He was seated at the very end of the table like a kid in a high chair, looking woefully hungover after the Hpnotiq incident. Liv went for the bowl. “No, not the snow crab, the king crab.”

Before we were able to resume our conversation, Peter dragged Declan into a conversation about the FIFA World Cup, the nuances of which were lost on me because I’d never given soccer a second thought. Declan nodded as he listened, apparently absorbed in whatever Peter was saying, but beneath the table, his hand settled on my thigh. Not making a move, really. Just … there. Warm and familiar. Like we’d done this a million times before.

Without knowing what else to do, I slipped my hand palm-up beneath his and interlaced our fingers. No one could see that we were holding hands beneath the table, but my heart was doing something funny anyway. The last time I’d held hands with someone was probably when my dad helped me cross the street when I was five—and oh my God, now that I was thinking about it, how ridiculous was that? I’d prided myself on dishing out dating advice but I’d never once taken the time to hold someone’s hand.

Declan’s thumb traced light circles over mine. He hadn’t looked at me when I slipped my hand into his—hadn’t acted like I’d done anything remotely out of the ordinary. Which I was grateful for, because I think I would’ve melted of sheer embarrassment if he’d called attention to it. Almost involuntarily, my fingers squeezed, seeking reassurance. Reassurance for what, I didn’t know. Maybe that this was okay, that we weren’t blurring an already muddled line between wedding hookup and something more. But he turned to look at me. I gave him a small smile, lifted a shoulder. I don’t know. I didn’t know what was happening, and I didn’t know what any of this meant. But despite my dismissal, he held my gaze. Peter was still droning away on the other side of the table.

“Are you two having a staring contest or something?” Jo’s voice interrupted.

I jerked my hand away, coming back to earth. “Yes,” I said stupidly.