Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Oh, I…” Shit. I’m obligated to be polite, aren’t I?
I go to accept the crab leg, but then she brandishes it in her hand like a sword. “En guard!” she yells. Heads turn in our direction, and the piano player misses another note. She swipes the crab leg through the air in swordlike motions, grinning so hugely the whole time that I can’t even find it in myself to be annoyed.
There’s something wrong with me because I want to laugh.
I end up catching the thing mid-swipe and set it on my plate. “Want some steak?” I offer casually since it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. When all else fails, act normal and offer beef.
I’m well aware of how wrong that sounds. Fuck.
“Me? Oh, no. I’m not a fan of cow murder.”
What? But I just watched her nibble at all those appetizers that had chicken, pork, lamb, and seafood, plus she devoured those mini quiches.
Wait. What?
“Oh my god!” I shove back my chair. “Stop!”
She freezes and gasps. I think the whole place freezes and gasps. “Eggs! There were eggs in the quiche. I was warned that you’re very allergic. That was the one thing your mom made sure my mom told me, other than the time and place. I totally forgot until right now. I…I was nervous and ordered the whole spread. I didn’t think…I thought that…”
“Oh, um, that?” She slowly grabs her napkin and dabs the crab juice off her face. “It’s not really a thing anymore. I’ve basically outgrown it. It’s more…um…seasonal now.”
“Seasonal?” I slowly sit back down. I’m so confused. Are we dealing with a life-or-death situation here or not?
“It really acts up in the spring. Pollen. I think it interacts with pollen.”
“We literally live in Tampa. There are flowers and trees all year round.”
Her eyes sweep the place. She’s looking anywhere but at me. “I’m going to be fine,” she assures me, but she sounds nervous. A beat passes, and then she suddenly dabs at her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s really sweet of you to care. My ex was such a total douchecookie. He’d always make things with eggs, and he’d never tell me. He thought it was just a joke. I think that’s how I built up a tolerance to it over the years. Trial by fire. Those little chocolate eggs they bring out at Easter? I can even eat those now.”
This. Has. To. Be. A. Joke.
So why does she look so serious?
She can’t really believe she was ever allergic to chocolate eggs, can she? Unless they had real eggs in them? Do they?
Oh my fucking god, what is even happening here right now?
“He was such a mean man.” Shit, she’s really dabbing her eyes now, and she sounds like she’s going to break down right away. “He’d never let me pick the movie. And he’d always argue about the silliest things. He thought cucumber sandwiches were the best, and he was so into squash. Loved it. He always said he’d do anything for me but wouldn’t stop shaving his chest, and it was always so prickly and horrible. Whenever he’d hold me close at night, it would itch and burn, and it was just the worst. I kept trying to get him to get waxed, but do you think he’d take my advice? Nope. Never. And then there was me, doing anything to please him. You better believe I got everything waxed, and I do mean everything, straight down to the unmentionables, and by unmentionables, I mean butthole.”
What the hell? Did she truly just say butthole, or am I hallucinating sounds now?
She waves a hand at me and drops the napkin. A shaky smile spreads across her lips, which are so damn pretty. It’s hard not to focus on them, no matter how inappropriate the conversation is. Who talks about their ex on a first date with someone else? That’s one of the top wrong things to do, isn’t it?
“I’m going on and on.” She laughs, and it’s too high-pitched. It sounds forced. “They say not to talk about yourself on a date. So, tell me about your ex. What was she like?”
“Excuse me?” Definitely not going there. This is a trap. It has to be.
She looks so earnest, though.
“We’re both here, aren’t we? That means we haven’t found the one yet. With my ex, it was more than just the shaving issue. But what happened with your ex? Something sad and horrible? Was she mean? Did she want different things? Have you been on lots of dates before this one? Because I’ve been on wayyyyyy too many. So many that I’m surprised I haven’t called you Kelvin. That was my latest ex’s name. Kelvin. What a terrible name. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
Not as bad as this date. It’s unnaturally bad. Almost like she’s trying too hard, but my mom swore up and down that Genevieve is a sweetheart through and through.