Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
She picks up her whiskey sour and looks at me. “It definitely shows.” She winks at me, and I shake my head as the waitress comes back with a plate full of french fries.
“You checked me out?” I ask. She shrugs and takes another sip of her whiskey, and I am the one watching her. Her arms look thin, and I’m obsessed with looking at her lips as she takes a fry and bites the tip. Leaning over to grab the ketchup bottle, she pours a mountain next to her fries.
“When I got here, I was like, wow, he is really comfortable with himself if he’s going to show up wearing a baseball cap to a date.” I love that she just says what’s on her mind, and I just look at her, my mouth hanging open. “I mean, I was like, wow, he’s good looking.” She just continues to talk, taking another sip of her whiskey, and I wonder if it’s liquid courage or if she is just this open. “Then, well.” She dips a fry in ketchup. “You looked up, and I was like, I just won the lottery.” I shake my head, the laughter escaping even if I didn’t want it to. “Then I thought I was going to die.” She grabs a fry and then chases it with another sip. “I was mortified.”
“It happens.” I try to make her feel better, and she chuckles.
“When was the last time you got stood up?” she asks, and I just look at her. “That’s exactly what I thought,” she says. “Someone who looks like you will never get stood up.”
“Well, Jillian,” I say, leaning forward. “If it’s any consolation prize.” I make sure she is looking at me when I say the next words. “There is no fucking way he would have stood you up if he knew how you looked.”
Chapter 6
Jillian
“Well, Jillian,” he says, leaning forward and my hand stops on its way to my mouth with the french fry in it. “If it’s any consolation.” His eyes stare into mine, and my whole body falls into a puddle-like form. “There is no fucking way he would have stood you up if he knew how you looked.” My mouth suddenly goes drier than a desert, and I pick up the whiskey sour and finish the whole drink. The sound of the loud restaurant becomes silent, and all I can hear are the words he just said to me. All I can hear is his smooth voice.
“Um,” I say, holding up my hand with the french fry in it, aiming at the waitress who looks at me. “More drinks?” I say, pointing at the three empty glasses in the middle of the table. I look back over at Michael and try to swallow, but it feels like a huge lump is in my throat. “You said you had no game,” I’m finally able to say when I swallow a couple of times. When I met him, I thought he was hot, but talking to him, he just went into another category altogether. The category of the once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing.
With a chuckle, he leans back in his chair, pulling his shirt across his chest. If I had more saliva available, I would be drooling on the table. Heat rises up the back of my neck, and I have to wonder if it’s the alcohol or the man sitting in front of me. “That wasn’t a pickup line or game,” he says.
“I say otherwise.” I finally eat the fry in my hand. I point at him, getting another fry and dipping it in ketchup. “That was game.” I wink at him. “Definitely keep that in the bank to use at a later date.” If anyone who knew me was sitting at this table, they would not believe I just said that or did the whole eye-wink thing. When he found me at the door, I was five seconds away from having a crying session about being stood up. I was getting ready to call myself an Uber and looking forward to going home and sitting on the couch while I had a pity party with ice cream and pizza. But then he asked me to have a drink with him, and everything in my head said to just leave, but a little part inside me jumped at the chance. When I sat down at the table and ordered a shot of tequila, I made up my mind that this night would never happen again. A once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing. I mean, who gets stood up and then has a hot guy ask her to have a drink with him? True, it was a sympathy drink, but nonetheless, I was sitting at the table with said hot guy, and I was going to make every second count.