Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Your client is Whitney Bondlander? Say Eli, that’s impressive. What is it you do?”
“I’m in management.”
Molly feigns confusion. “What kind of management?”
“Upper.”
“Ah, so you’re a manager at a tennis club. Gotcha.” She crosses her legs and glances about the room, throwing a little wiggle wave at someone I can’t see because I don’t have eyes in the back of my goddamn head.
“Would you stop doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Flirting.”
“Oh, sorry—I can’t help myself. Derek was pretty cute.” She holds up a small square sheet of paper. “See? I gave him a star.”
She has a few stars littering her paper, not necessarily by, on, or near men’s names.
“Do you have stars by any ladies? Anyone catch your eye, Eli?”
No.
I shake my head, but a “Yes,” comes out despite it. “I guess.”
“You sound bored. Were you acting like this with everyone, or is it just me?”
“Everyone,” I say honestly, yawning.
She swats at me from across the table. “Stop yawning! Derek is watching.”
“So? What do I give a shit if Derek is watching? He’s my competition. He’ll be glad you’re boring me.”
She swats at me again. “We only have five minutes, and you’ve wasted three of them by not trying. You’re impossible.”
I may be impossible, but she’s stunning.
I watch her from across the table, all done up and gorgeous for men who aren’t me, a pit forming in my gut when she does another little wave toward someone new. Refuse to crane my neck to see who the bastard is, wondering why I give a shit when Molly and I are only friends.
Friends.
Ha.
What a joke.
What began as a lark—because I was too proud to admit to my friends that yeah, maybe I am a relationship guy—wound up as an entanglement with a woman who’s the female embodiment of, well—me.
And perhaps that’s why I like her so damn much.
I’m so fucked in the head it’s not even funny.
fifteen
molly
I’d stared at that third space, worrying my bottom lip before filling in that third name, slowly scrawling those few letters before folding the card in half and handing it to Andi, the girl at the table in front of the room.
Derek
Simon
“Thanks for coming,” she’d said as I left. “If you have any matches, we’ll be emailing you tonight with contact information.”
Well.
It was tonight, and I was still waiting for that email from Andi.
Not that I cared much about matching with Derek or Simon or anyone else, but because I was conducting an experiment. The one Posey and I had concocted the other night, with the help of Kate, as a litmus to see where I stood with Eli.
He seemed annoyed tonight. Distracted?
Certainly not in the moment, at least not with me.
I refresh my browser again, and sure enough, there in my inbox is an email from Andi at Round Table Dating.com, subject line: Ready for your matches?!
“I’m ready—bring it on!”
Good evening, Molly, the letter says. Thanks for joining us tonight for a round of speed dating! We were happy to have you and hope you had a great time and met some new people! Below are your matches along with their contact numbers—if you choose to reach out, here are the following guidelines:
Respect your match’s privacy. If you reach out and do not hear back, do not continue to message them.
Don’t take too long to reach out to your match(es). They will be expecting you to contact them or may be ready to reach out to you. You’ve already expressed interest in one another, so you will not be coming off as overeager. And remember! Your match may have other matches, too—schedule that second date!
Use humor! Be yourself in your message, the same way you were during your date.
If you have any questions, please reply to this message, and Andi or Kammi can help! Below are your matches and their contact information. GOOD LUCK! xo Andi and Kammi
Instantly, my eyes shift to the list of gentlemen who have matched with me this evening. Since I only had four on my list, I could only have four matches.
There are four.
Derek, Simon, Peter…
And Eli.
I sit back in my desk chair and stare at his name. Personally, I know I did not put his name down as a joke so I’m wondering what his intention was when he put me on his shortlist. Is he being a smart-ass? Is he doing it to be funny? Was he just as curious as I was to see if I would put his name down?
My brain goes in circles, all the unanswered questions building in my mind until my phone vibrates with a notification, and I swivel my desk chair to grab it.
Speak of the devil…
Eli: Well, well, well…it seems we were of the same mind.
Me: What do you mean by that LOL
Eli: I matched you. You matched with me.
Me: Did you get any other matches?