Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Eli: No. I wasn’t there to meet anyone.
Me: Then why did you put my name down?
Eli: You seemed like a nice young lady, that’s why LOL
For some reason, I don’t find the teasing funny—because I want him to be honest with me. Does he find me attractive, or does he still see me as his wingwoman, sidekick, buddy ole pal?
I’m tempted to say something sarcastic but refrain.
Eli: Was I your only match, too?
Me: Ha. No, I had four.
Eli: FOUR??? Who?
Me: No one you would know, lol
Eli: That guy Derek? The one you kept looking at when we were trying to get to know each other?
Me: First of all, we were FAKE getting to know each other since we already know each other. Secondly, stop being so nosy…
Eli: Has he messaged you for a date yet? ’Cause the email went out over an hour ago.
Me: Nope, you’re the first one to message me.
Eli: So I win?
Me: It’s not a competition.
Eli: Like hell it’s not.
Me: First of all, you weren’t there to find dates. I wasn’t either, but I happened to meet some nice guys…
Eli: You’re always doing that. “First of all…second of all…” You’re adorable.
Me: Okay, but it’s true. I may not have gone there with the intention of finding true love, but I did connect with some men who might want to take me out, and let’s be real, I haven’t been out in a long time.
Eli: What am I chopped liver?
Me: We were fake dating—if you can even call it that. Short of PAYING ME, I was basically an escort. A glorified sidekick. Assistant. A wingman to keep women away from you because they think we’re in a relationship.
Eli: So what am I, chopped liver?
Me: What is your point??
Eli: You and I went on some pretty great dates.
Me: Er. We did? Because the last one I recall going on, I had wine poured down a dress that doesn’t even belong to me by a hateful, bitter brat.
Eli: That doesn’t count. It was a work thing.
Me: Okay—the banquet you took me to, your ex showed up, and we hightailed it out of there…
Eli: Why are you bringing all this up?? LOL
Me: Just stating the obvious, you seem to think we’ve gone on dates when we haven’t.
Eli: Fine. If you want to go on an actual date, we will.
Me: Wow.
I swear to you, my mouth is hanging open right now at his audacity. His sentence literally implies, “Fine, twist my arm. We can go out if you force me to.”
Guess that settles that.
I leave him on READ and go about my business, taking off my athleisure wear and changing into pajamas, brushing my teeth, and plopping into bed.
The phone rings as soon as I plug it into its charger.
“What?”
“Is that how you greet all your fake boyfriends?”
“Only when I’m irritated.”
There’s a long stretch of silence on his end of the line, and I can hear him thinking.
“Molly, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You didn’t mean what like that?”
“When I said Fine—if you want to go on an actual date, we will I didn’t mean in the way it came off.”
I’m still not sure where he’s going with this. “Alright.”
He’s quiet again until he has to clear his throat, mumbling. “Since when did I become so horrible at this?”
Horrible at what? I’m tempted to ask, but remain silent instead.
“Do you want to go on a date?”
If I wasn’t lying down, my legs wouldn’t work. “Do you want to go on a date?”
“I’m asking you if you want to go on a date. A real one. With me.”
Unable to wrap my brain around him asking, I need more clarity. “Is this a pity date?”
“What? No—what are you talking about?”
“You don’t seriously want to go on a date. Are you just jealous because you didn’t have any other matches tonight?”
“Am I jealou—Molly. I didn’t get matches because yours was the only name I wrote down, and yes, maybe I am jealous. Is that a crime?” He inhales. “Do you have to argue about everything?”
I mean—kind of. It’s part of my charm.
“A real date. As in…romantic interest kind of date?”
Eli hesitates. “Yes.”
Well.
Well then.
My stomach dips and turns and flutters.
Yes.
If I had a landline telephone with a cord, I’d be twirling it right now as we speak, nervously.
“Alright. We can go on a date.” Then. “What did you have in mind.”
Eli gives this some thought. “I haven’t planned that far ahead, but how does Friday night sound? I don’t think I have any engagements, and if I did, I can have them cleared up.”
Oh la la, he’d clear his calendar for me.
A girl could get used to that.
I bite down on my bottom lip to keep the smile at bay. “Friday works.”
“Great.”
We’re quiet again, and I search the ceiling above for more words to say but can only come up with, “Why is this suddenly so awkward?”