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“You’re owed it from your date. He’s repaying you.”
“Why?” My arms are folded over my chest.
“Please take it, miss. I want to go to bed.” I look at it again.
“You take it. Buy yourself some alcohol and get drunk,” I tell him.
“I earn good money, I don’t need this.”
“Okay, give it to someone who does need it. There is a homeless man—”
“Yes, we know. You make him food most days.”
“Who did you say you were again?” I ask. No oneknows that except for Marco. And I don’t make the man food. If I have leftovers—which is almost always because I cook way more than I can eat on my own—I give them to him. He’s always so nice to me when I see him.
“Please take it.” He shoves the money at me almost desperately.
Then, it dawns on me who this kid is.
“You were with him, weren’t you?” I ask. “Dawson. I remember now. You had your back to me, but it was you at the restaurant. Do you work with him?” I’m getting mad now because this is humiliating. I don’t need Dawson trying to swoop in and be chivalrous when he’s made it abundantly clear he wants nothing to do with me.
“Yes, but—”
I lean in close, and the boy steps back, as I interrupt him with, “Tell him to shove it up his ass.” Then I shut the door in his face.
Silence.
“I’ll give it to the homeless man, then,” he says through the door.
Argh.
A few days later,my date that ran out on me, sends me a message apologizing for what he’d done, and it also says he hopes I don’t hate him.
Like, what thefuck?
I blocked him.
I’m at work now. We’re closing the store so we can finish unpacking new stock.
I fish out a matching yellow silk set.Oooh, I like it. No, I love it. I hold the material against my skin, and it’s a perfect contrast.
“Ooof, we love!” Alana, my manager, says as she walks out with another box.
“I swear I’m going broke here, Alana,” I whine. I love all of it. Discount or not, I’ve begun an unhealthy relationship with lingerie because it makes me feel sexy.
“And the new toys,” Alana adds as she pulls out a pink vibrator from the next box. She admires it before returning it to the box and looking at me again. “I still can’t believe that douchebag made you pay for the meal.” She scoffs in disbelief.
I sigh. “Is online dating always like this? I mean, honestly. I might stay single forever.”
She laughs and then throws me one of the boxed vibrators. “Then maybe you need this.”
I flip it over, appreciating it in the same way Alana did. It’s cute. And a girl can never have too many toys, right?
“Put it on my tab,” I say in a sing-song voice. And although I love it and have only ever had dildos and vibrators, I’m wondering if I’m missing out on anything at all when it comes to men. I mean, this basically does the same thing, right? And most women have told me it’seven better. But then I wonder if the person you’re with makes the experience different.
“Dawson asked for your work schedule,” she mentions, peeking in my direction. When I look at her, she returns her focus back to emptying the box. “Is there something going on with you and the boss that you should tell me about?”
Fucking Dawson…again.
