AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What are the odds that I’ll surprise you in my bedroom a second time?” He smiles, mouth closed, dimples emerging, his eyes filled with mirth. It’s as if he actually wants me to quote him a number.
May the odds be ever in your favor.
And why am I recalling Hunger Games when it comes to thinking about being alone with Will in his bedroom?
Because my entire dating life has been nothing but a post-apocalyptic race to the bottom.
Nerves get the better of me and I look down at my phone, wondering where David is so I can move from one awkward conversation to another.
“Uh, excuse me,” I say, wishing my skin didn’t feel like a tingling war zone. “My, uh, date is texting me.”
I’m going to hell for that lie, but whatever.
Will takes the cue and crosses the room to a table with lemonade and store-bought cookies, pouring himself a cup as I will my date to say something.
What are you wearing? I type into the app message system.
Nothing.
Two full, sweaty minutes roll by as I wait for a guy to answer the easiest double entendre ever. One hundred twenty seconds of sheer hell pass as I watch a blonde woman talk up Will like she wants to take him home and turn him into her evening protein shake. She’s wearing lululemon tights and Jimmy Choos, an unusual combination that seems to indicate she’s ready for anything.
Clap clap! A man in a tight, black Lycra shirt, grey fitted slacks, and the most beautiful Italian leather shoes I have ever seen glides like melting cheese on a raclette into the center of the ballroom.
“Hello, hello! My name is Philippe, and I am your instructor tonight. Welcome! Two more minutes for refreshments, and then we DANCE!” The word DANCE comes out of his mouth in capital letters.
Philippe heads straight toward me, eyes meeting mine, his dark, wavy hair slicked off his face with curls escaping at the nape of the neck, a perfectly manscaped moustache adding to his rakish look.
“And you are?” he asks, the words a demand to reveal my soul.
“Uh, Mallory.”
“Uh, Mallory, it is nice to meet you.”
“It’s just Mallory.”
“Are you Uh, Mallory, or Just Mallory?” he asks, mouth pursing with amusement.
I cannot tell whether I like him or hate him.
“Mallory.”
Eyeing me up and down, his expression changes to approval when he sees my shoes. “You have come prepared.”
Will chooses that exact moment to walk over, a lemonade in each hand, and offer me one. I smile a thank you as Philippe watches us like he’s judging a couple on So You Think You Can Dance.
“You are here together?” he asks.
“OH, NO!” I call out, as if it’s the word DANCE. “I’m waiting for my date.”
“Date?”
“First date, actually. I don’t know what he looks like, but…”
“Was his name David, by any chance?” Philippe asks, mouth twisted with disgust.
“Yes!”
“Corporate,” he hisses. “Again!”
