Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I could live at this bar. I wasn’t exaggerating that much when I said I was in love. The drinks are good, the mood is lively and I always get a warm welcome from the regulars. It makes me wish I drank more, so I’d have an excuse to linger and listen to their stories. Sometimes you do want to go where everybody knows your name.
I bet a lot of people secretly think of the old sitcom Cheers when they find a bar they like. I can’t be the only one.
The one thing that could make this moment better is the absence of the guy at my old table. Or Zeus deciding to take his place. Because he’s gay and he knows I exist.
#DreamonGreen
I will.
Fiona tilts her chin in my date’s direction. “When are you going to bounce the bozo, JD? You’ve looked miserable all night, and I already lost my bet on how long you’d last thirty minutes ago.”
Fiona and I audited a class together a few semesters ago and the two of us just clicked. Partly because we’re both the kind of people who graduate from college—me with a double major and her with a master’s degree in psychology—but keep compulsively returning like educationally starved junkies. And, yes, partly because she mentioned she worked here and it was a good excuse to visit while researching the same things she claims to on a nightly basis.
Observing men in their natural habitat is our secondary obsession. A truly good bartender and a man who gives relationship advice for a living need to do a lot of research. It’s all very innocent, you understand. For work.
“I already did my bouncing. Sort of,” I finish glumly, since the bouncing would be more effective if he actually went away.
“You don’t sound too sure.” A good-looking man with wavy blond hair and pretty blue eyes sends Fiona a grin over my head, joining the conversation. “How does a guy sort of end a date?”
“Don’t tease him, Wyatt. JD is a gentleman, and gentlemen have a hard time ditching their dates just because sex is off the table. Pay attention now. You might learn something.”
“Are you saying I’m—you mean the brunette last week?” His expression instantly transforms into offended with a side of panic. “Fi, a guy at the firehouse set us up, but we didn’t spark so she decided to go home alone. In a car that I paid for. I didn’t ditch her and I am a gentleman.”
That was…adamant.
“You don’t have to convince us, firecracker,” Fiona scoffed, shooting me a look that tells me this is their normal banter and she’s enjoying it. “But we’re talking about someone else’s sex life today, not yours. You’re being too nice again, aren’t you, Green? I can always tell.”
“No I’m not. I told him he could leave if he wanted to and I glared. A lot. It’s not my fault he didn’t catch on. He probably still thinks we’re hooking up tonight.”
“You glared?” She laughs in delight. “God, you’re so cute. I dated a Canadian like you once. Dirty and creative but unbelievably polite. Some men, however, are dickheads that need a more obvious kick to the curb.”
Maybe so, but if growing up with nine other boys taught me anything, it was when to pick my battles. And when to hide in the attic with a good book until they forgot I existed.
I am still upset that he didn’t think he had to do anything tonight but show up. That he assumed he’d get laid because we were both breathing and in the same room. But it’s not like I haven’t experienced it before.
Guys like that—straight, gay or in between—think getting off is the point so dating is a waste of time. Why put in the effort to wine and dine a talking glory hole?
To a Billy Ray type of man, I’m the happy meal after choosing the drive-thru. The movie he watches online so he doesn’t have to put on pants and leave the house.
The age of instant gratification is making everyone too damn lazy. Especially when it comes to romance. Nobody works for anything anymore. Nobody pays attention to the details.
I check on my mullet man, notice he hasn’t moved at all, and turn back with an eye roll for my audience. “I’ll start the curb kicking after this drink, if it’s all the same to you. I’ve got time and he isn’t bothering anyone. I think he’s still working on his high score at Candy Crush.”
Wyatt choked on the beer he’d been swallowing. “Wait. He’s been playing a game on his phone during your date? And he still expects to get laid?”
He stands while he’s speaking and I notice how lean and muscular he is. And there’s a tattoo on his biceps that makes it clear he’s a fireman and proud of it. Nice.