Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I tell him. “So, if she’s alone—you never want to approach a girl standing with her family; dads are a surefire cockblock—but if she’s alone, you go up and say hi.”
“Hi? That’s it? But what do I say after that?”
“Ask her …” I mull it over. I don’t want the kid to sound like a tool. If I send him out there to get his heart broken, I’m not a very good Big Brother. “Okay, do this. You see a girl you like, she smiles at you. You say hi, introduce yourself, then say something like, what do you like to do at the beach. Then what’s her favorite day. Her favorite time of day. And once you get those answers, you take out your phone and tell her you’ve set a reminder for that day and time to pick her up for a beach date.”
Riley studies me with a skeptical grimace. “That seems kinda corny.”
“Wow. Okay. Getting heckled by a fourteen-year-old.”
He snorts a laugh.
“Look. Chicks like a guy with confidence. They want you to take charge of the situation. Show some game.”
He shakes his head, stabbing his straw into his glass of water. “I don’t think I can do that.”
I ponder some more. How hard can it be to pick up a teenage girl these days? “Right, how ’bout this. You see a girl you like?”
Riley is hesitant, glancing around the restaurant. Beyond the bar, the place is stuffed with the lunch rush. Eventually, his gaze lands on a brunette sitting with her family; she looks to be the youngest of two older sisters. As the girls chat among themselves, the mom grabs her purse from the back of her chair and heads off toward the restrooms.
“Quick, before her mom comes back. You go over there and say to her sisters, ‘Hey, I’m Riley, and I’m not very good at this but I’d really like to ask your sister out on a date, and I was hoping you could help me.’ ”
“I don’t know,” he says, watching them with trepidation. “What if they laugh at me? Or think I’m a weirdo?”
“They won’t. Trust me, they’ll think it’s cute. Just smile, be natural. You’re a good-looking guy, Riley. You’ve got that sweet-boy face that girls love. Have a little faith in yourself.”
For a second or two, I think he’s going to psych himself out. He remains glued to his chair. Then, with a deep breath, he gathers his confidence and stands from the table. He takes a couple steps forward before doubling back. “Wait. What do I do if she says yes?”
I smother a laugh. “Get her number and tell her you’ll call her tonight.”
With a nod, he’s off.
Rox comes back with our food just as he’s reaching their table, and together we watch him nervously approach the sisters. The girls look uncertain, guarded at first, but when Riley gets a few words out, their faces soften. They smile, amused, looking at their sister. Blushing, she says something in response, which eases the anxiety in Riley’s expression. Then he tosses his hair out of his face and hands the girl his phone. They exchange a few more words before he struts back to us and throws his phone on the table like a goddamn hero.
“So?” I demand. “We’re going to play mini golf tomorrow.”
I flip my palm up for a high five. “Hell yeah.”
Rox’s lips twitch wildly, as if she’s fighting a rush of laughter. “Be careful with this one,” Rox warns Riley, hooking her thumb in my direction. “He’ll get you into all sorts of trouble.” With a wink, she dashes off again.
I grin at Riley with a strange rush of pride filling my chest. “See, I told you, kid. You got game.”
After lunch, we spend a couple hours at the arcade. Turns out I’m kind of a bastard, as far as the whole Big Brother thing goes.
“Some people,” Riley says as we’re leaving. “Some people might find your behavior in poor taste.”
“Can’t expect life to give you everything you want.”
It started at air hockey. Five straight games during which I utterly humiliated him. In the fourth game, it looked like he might’ve turned it around, going on a pretty good run of scoring, but then he got a bit too pleased with himself and I took him to the cleaners.
“I’m just saying.”
“Sounds like whining to me.”
“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t go to the kids’ cancer ward and do victory laps around the room after beating them at Mario Kart.”
Next, we played Skee-Ball. I don’t know if it’s his skinny little arms or lack of trapezius muscles, but I owned him at that too. If he had any cash, I’d have started putting money on those games.
“Who says I wouldn’t? What do they have to do all day but hone their skills? I’ve got a job and responsibilities.”