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I shit you not, when he turned, his neck and tops of his ears were fucking beet red.
“I, uh…”
“Barry, have youevergotten pussy?” I asked, brows shooting up. He had to be in his early twenties. And still hadn’t gotten laid?
I’d gotten that out of the way when I was fifteen.
Then again, I hadn’t been a social awkward gamer who mostly talked in TV show and movie references and wore hoodies in the summer.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said, grabbing all my iced coffee, and sticking it in the fridge. “Okay. Go change out of that fucking robe. We’re going to go get you laid tonight,” I said.
“Really?” he asked, eyes bright.
“Yeah,” I said, silently adding that it would be a hard feat, but I was determined to get this guy a life. Getting him not to be so terrified of girls was the first step in that.
“Be right back!” he said, rushing to finish the last string of lights, then rushing toward the bathroom.
He came back out a few moments later, wearing a shirt that declaredNerdy by nature.
“Absolutely fucking not,” I said, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes at him. “Don’t you have a plain black tee?” I asked.
He had to mull that over.
“Maybe if I turn one inside out and cut off the tag.”
“Jesus,” I grumbled. “Get your shoes on. We’ll stop and pick one up on the way to the bar.”
And new shoesI decided as I watched him slip his feet into slides. With his socks on.
“This is almost likeDrive Me Crazy,” Barry declared later as we stood in the men’s department of the only store still open. “I’m Chase. You’re Nicole…”
“I swear to fuck, Barry, you’re making it really hard for me to want to keep doing this,” I said.
“What? Just because you’re the girl?” he asked, making a group of teenagers snicker as they walked past us. “It’s a good movie, man. They’re childhood best friends who grow up to not be able to stand each other. They’re in different groups in high school. Nicole is super popular. Which fits for you. And Chase is kind of the slacker who got dumped and needs a makeover to be more desirable. They end up together by the end of the movie, though.”
“Barry, you and me, we’re not going to end up together. Do you hear me?” I asked, tone serious.
“Well, not romantically, no,” he agreed, grabbing a shirt that was a solid three sizes too big for him, making me grab it from him, stick it back on the rack, and grab the right size. “But we may be two platonic man-buddies when we are in the nursing home, talking about—“
I didn’t hear the rest of that sentence because I was walking away.
If there was ever a depressing thought that made you rethink your choices in life, it was your stray dog telling you that youwere going to be ‘platonic man-buddies in the nursing home together.’
Barry was probably still prattling on to himself as I checked out with his shoes and shirt.
I went outside and waited by my SUV.
He didn’t emerge until half an hour later, carrying his own bag.
“Where’d you go, man? I got the goods,” he said, reaching into his bag to start showing me fucking DVDs.
“Put the shirt and shoes on,” I said, passing my bags to him, and tossing the one he’d grabbed to throw it into the SUV.
The bar with Barry was… an experiment in patience.
By the time he actually listened to my advice and walked over to a woman, I felt like I’d run a goddamned marathon.
He tripped over conversation with woman after woman, and I started to seriously consider hiring someone he’d have a good time with, but then he finally got an invitation to sit down with an older woman in designer shoes.
