I am an open book now – my lips parted slightly, hoping for more, my shoulders rising and falling. My eyes telling the truth, I am sure. He has to know. He has to know this is more with him. That this can be everything.
As he breaks the kiss, the look on his face says he liked it, and he wants so much more. I recognize the look, because I’m sure I’m his mirror image right now.
Plus, now I can date Chris.
Chapter Eleven
“She’s been fed and she had an afternoon walk, but if you can take her out for twenty minutes when you stop by, that would be great.”
I gather my purse and keys as I finish up the instructions with Ms. Pac-Man’s regular dog-sitter/dog walker/dog trainer. I hired Wednesday Logan when we adopted Ms. Pac-Man and I’m also the one who attended every dog training session and implemented the instructions. But who’s counting? Oh, wait. I am.
“Can you be sure to leave an invoice for me on the kitchen table?” I add as we chat on the phone. “I left cash for you already, but if you can leave an invoice that would be great.”
“Absolutely,” Wednesday says. “I can’t wait to see Ms. Pac-Man again.”
“And don’t forget if you run into Michelangelo, stay far away.”
“The horny pug, right?”
“Yep. She growls at him every time. But it’s totally his fault. He tried to hump her once and she’s not into that.”
“Of course not. She’s a lady dog.”
“Exactly.”
I end the call and meet Hayden to catch a bus to Fillmore, since Julia has decided we need a Girls Night Out and we’re meeting her at the Tiki Bar, a loungy-bar with tapas and big, fiery drinks. She said the place is usually packed with young, hot men in their early twenties.
I’m wearing my new V-neck Macbeth shirt, a short flowy skirt, and a pair of red heels with a buckle strap. The whole ensemble can be had for under $100 and I shared the shopping details with my viewers last week. Our stop is a few blocks away from The Tiki Bar, so we get off the bus and walk the rest of the way. My phone chirps from my purse and I answer it.
“Hey, it’s Chris.”
“Hey there. What’s going on?”
Hayden instantly looks back at me. She might as well have boy radar. She can glean within nanoseconds when you’re talking to a guy. Well, any good girlfriend can. It’s in our DNA. It’s a requirement.
“So I guess if we’re really going to be partners in crime, I need to send you a photo to post, huh?”
“Of course. You have to play by the rules.”
We cross the street, Hayden deliberately staying two steps ahead. This pace is part of our DNA too; we are genetically programmed to give a fellow girlfriend the two-step spread during guy calls.
“Rules. I do well with rules,” he says, and his voice is super flirty, and it makes me feel melty.
I adopt a sharp but playful tone. “The rule then is you need to send a picture soon. I announced yesterday on the show that I am posting pictures tomorrow night for voting.”
“Oooh, giving me orders already. I like that. Makes me feel like a boy toy.”
“Better watch out, Chris. Soon, I may be asking you to arrive at my house and pretend to be the pool boy.”
“I could totally do a cabana boy look for you.”
“If I had horses you could be a stable boy.”
“Giddy up.”
I laugh, and so does he, and the sexy banter makes me feel, for a moment, as if Todd might not be the last word in my life when it comes to men. Then I tell myself to settle down. We’ve only had one kiss, and besides, this is all just a game.
He’s a gamer, and his competitive instincts are firing on all cylinders. That’s all this is.
I see the Tiki Bar just ahead. The code dictates you must complete all phone calls to guys before entering the appointed location for a girls’ night out. Phone conversations are only permitted in the window of time immediately before entering the establishment, and phone loitering is specifically forbidden.
“Hey, Chris. I have to go. It’s girl’s night out, so let me call you later.”
“Enough said. Talk to you later.”
“Who was that?” Hayden asks, as we walk inside The Tiki Bar, but it’s noisy, and there’s a part of me that’s afraid of saying the truth out loud – that was the guy I’m majorly crushing on. Because if I voice those words, they become real. If I keep it to myself, maybe I can protect myself from heartbreak, so I pretend I didn’t hear her as we make our way to my sister. Besides, they want this for me. They want me to see this Trophy Husband quest all the way through. Julia is already holding court at a corner table, a garish pink drink with not one, but two umbrellas in front of her. It’s ironic, her drinking this, and she knows it. She, the uber-cool bartender, is drinking a strawberry daiquiri because it’s an ironic act.
She’s collected two boys, one on each side. “Look! I’m recruiting for you.”
“I thought it was a girl’s night out.”
“And on a girl’s night out, we like to meet boys. C’mon! The more the merrier when it comes to trophies! Let’s see who we have in store for you tonight.”
I do my best to push Chris from my mind and focus on my turn-the-tables project. I slide in next to Boy Number One, who sports a buzz cut, broad shoulders, and a white-and-green-striped button-down shirt. Julia introduces him as Carl. Bachelor Number Two flanks her other side. He’s Tom, a little on the short side, but with warm brown eyes. They both smile.