Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
It just so happens I’ve made the fantasy a reality.
Charlotte chose a bar in a small strip mall for tonight’s meetup. The parking lot is packed for a Thursday night, likely because of the game. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I suppose it depends on how much attention she wants to draw.
Since I have her phone number from class, I text her to let her know we’re here. Inside, we find a typical sports bar, featuring a row of flat-screen TVs flickering with various games and walls adorned with framed jerseys and autographed memorabilia.
There’s a mix of tables and booths, and as I scan the room for Charlotte, her response pops up.
CHARLOTTE:
Corner booth near the front window. I got here five minutes ago.
I shift my head to the left and catch a glimpse of her dark hair and a flash of white. Her sweater. Man, this girl really likes to wear white. And of course she’s early. She seems like the punctual type. Or at least this version of her is. The Charlie from the app would probably make us wait for an hour before she strutted over on a pair of high-heeled boots and said sorry I’m late, boys, enjoying the idea that she’d kept us at the edge of our seats, waiting for her.
She looks up at our approach, apprehension flickering in her eyes. Her outfit is trademark Charlotte: a short white cardigan with tiny pearl buttons, paired with a black skirt.
“Hey.” I greet her with a wry smile.
I slide into the booth on her right, setting my keys and phone on the tabletop. Beckett slides in on her other side, which forces her to scoot closer to me to give him room.
“Hey,” he says easily.
“Hi.” She sounds nervous.
Looks it too. She has both hands wrapped tightly around a water glass, her fingernails leaving streaks in the condensation from the ice cubes.
“I just got water. I was waiting for you guys to get here to order,” she explains, catching my gaze.
“You good?” I ask her.
“Fine.”
Because that was convincing.
“It’s just a drink, Charlotte,” I say. “No expectations.”
That seems to mollify her. Her shoulders relax. Then tense again when the waiter appears. A short, stocky young guy with a head of unruly, blond curls.
He glances at Charlie. “Has the rest of your party arrived or are we still waiting on one more?”
“Nope, this is it,” she says. “These are my…friends from class.”
There was absolutely no reason for her to qualify that. From the corner of my eye, I see Beckett trying not to laugh. He and I order beers. Charlotte surprises me by ordering a gin and tonic.
Someone needs the liquid courage, it appears.
After the waiter leaves, Charlotte spends several seconds clearly not knowing where to look. Her gaze is a Ping-Pong ball, darting from me to Beckett to her glass to the framed Bobby Orr photo on the wall, and then the cycle begins anew.
Finally, she groans. “This is weird,” she blurts out. “This is weird and it’s uncomfortable, and I think I should go.”
I bite my lip, barely able to contain my laughter in time. “All right. No one’s keeping you here.”
I start to slide out of the booth, only to stop when she says, “No. Don’t go.”
My ass plops back down. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, but…can someone just acknowledge that it’s weird?”
“I mean, you’re making it weird,” Beckett says, grinning at her. “But it doesn’t have to be.”
“How can it not? I’m on a date with two guys. I don’t know how to be on a date with two guys.”
“It’s the same as being on a date with one guy.” He shrugs. “What would you be doing if you were on a one-guy date right now?”
“I’d probably ask you questions.” She releases another groan. “Normal questions. But the ones I want to ask right now aren’t normal at all.”
This time, I can’t stop the laugh. “Ask what you want to ask,” I urge. “I promise you we won’t be scandalized.”
“You two really don’t hook up with each other? I know you said that on the app, but…”
I figured this would come up. Girls are always asking us that. Or actively encouraging it in some cases.
I shake my head. “We don’t hook up.”
“Yet?”
“Honestly? Probably not.” I glance at Beck, then back at Charlotte. “We’ve never been chilling in the living room or something when I’ve looked over and had an overwhelming urge to bone him. I’ve only ever been with women.”
“And you?” She turns to Beckett.
“Only women,” he admits. “I’ve kissed a couple dudes, but a girl was there both times.”
“So you’re bi?” She sounds thoughtful.
“I’m not much of a label guy. My philosophy has always been do what feels good and don’t do what doesn’t feel good.”
That brings a smile to her lips. She seems to be relaxing. So of course, the waiter picks that moment to return with our drinks. At the reminder that we’re not alone and anyone could be watching us, she practically snatches her drink out of the guy’s hand and takes a big gulp.