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“My life is a hot mess,” I added through my laughter. “A hot mess.”
“It kind of is,” he admitted. “But it’s never boring.”
I shook my head.
“Things are going to work out for you, Tessa,” Ellis said after a moment of silence. “Boob pic or not.”
I grinned, leaning my head against the door. I heard him do the same.
And so we spent the rest of the night talking and laughing, me still leaning against the door on one side, him leaning against the same door on the other side. It was easy, natural, simple. I didn’t think about the sex study or Levi P. or a boob pic or the New Tessa even once.
It was just me and Ellis.
It wasn’t until later that I remembered Ellis’s date. He’d missed it because of me. But as I thought about it, the tiniest thought wiggled its way into my mind. What if he hadn’t missed it because of me?
What if Ellis had missed his dateforme?
Chapter 8
Tessa
Unlike yours truly, who liked to spend her Friday nights with the company of Mr. Cookie Dough and Mr. Spoon, Ellis had actual friends (yes, the human kind), and had set me up with one of them for a date tonight on the off chance I liked the guy enough to fill one of my three open sex study spots.
“If anyone is going to be down for sex study, it will be Tom,” Ellis had said the day before as we sat on my couch eating popcorn and watchingAll About Eve.
And because of my best friend’s best intentions to get me laid by not one but three guys—at the same time—I now stood outsideThe Celtic Cave, the local pub just around the corner from my apartment where Tom and I had agreed to meet, pulling down the skirt Ellis had suggested I wear. “Tom is a simple man,” Ellis had said. “The more skin the better, my friend.”
So I was now dressed in an outfit that gave me goosebumps anytime a slight breeze blew by. There was live music that night at the bar, so even if the date was a complete failure at least we wouldn’t be sitting together in awkward silence. Awkward noise was so much better.
“Tessa?”
I turned to see an attractive man with almond-shaped, light blue
eyes, darkened by his long black eyelashes. Ellis’s description hadn’t done the man justice, but as attractive as his blue eyes were, they didn’t hold a candle to the deep sapphire beauty of Ellis’s.
“Um, hi. Yes, I’m Tessa."
“I’m Tom.” He smiled and nodded toward the door. “Shall we go in?”
“Of course,” I said, trying to shake off the nervous energy that was radiating off of me like a heat wave off of the LA concrete. I turned to the door, and when I looked over my shoulder to make sure Tom was following, his eyes didn’t meet mine. You might assume he was looking at my butt in the tight skirt Ellis had insisted I be squeezed into, but alas, this was not the case. He was raking his fingers through his hair as he stared lovingly at his own reflection in the darkened windows of the bar.
I pretended not to notice as he finally smiled down at me, stretching over me to hold open the door. It wasn’t exactly the same smile he gave his own reflection, but it was still enough to make my knees weak.
Inside the bar was loud with a packed crowd for the show as the band finished setting up on the small stage stuffed into the corner.
“Let’s claim that table near the front,” Tom whispered in my ear, leaning in close and pointing to the only empty table in the place, smack-dab in front of the cramped stage, complete with a drum set, a couple microphone stands, and beat-up amplifiers.
He placed his hand at the small of my back as he guided me through the groups of people chatting over beers and whiskeys. As we stopped in front of the table, he held out a chair for me, then ordered drinks for us. He told me about himself while we waited for the band to start. I told myself it was going well. I told myself I was having fun. I told myself I liked him. I mean how could I not like him? He was a Disney prince come to life: impossiblejaw line, glistening eyes, etcetera, etcetera.
Sure, he had yet to ask me a single question about myself. Sure, I spent the first fifteen minutes listening to him list all his upcoming world travels for fashion week. He then proceeded to show me all the famous people who followed him on Instagram, to which I nodded politely and added to each a “wow” or “oh, cool” or “no way!” I tried to convince myself I was having a good time hearing about his nutritional program and his latest whey protein obsession and his favorite type of burpee. And sure, he spent more time looking at himself in the mirror on the wall behind me or in his phone cameraunder the guise of “checking a work email” or even once in the reflection of his vodka and soda glass than he didlookingat me.
But I reminded myself of my goals: we were talking about a sex study here. I was hoping to make a real connection with someone, but it could also just be physical, right?
I nearly sighed in relief when the crowd cheered as the band finally came ontothe stage. But my relief quickly turned into bristling irritation.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I grumbled.
Taking his place on stage at the drum set was none other than my most favorite neighborever.I ducked myhead and shielded my eyes with my hand in the hopes that Jamie hadn’t yet seen me. I expected Tom to lean over and ask me in a concerned voice what was wrong. But when I peeked at him from between my fingers he was not so subtly checking out his flexed bicep.
