Whiskey Trick Page 6

  “No,” I say, my own hands easily gliding into the pockets of my broken-in denim to warm them up. Opting for no coat seemed like a better idea earlier in the night. “It was the movie,” I admit. “I didn’t realize that it was as scary as it was. I get a bit squeamish now that I live alone. I should’ve researched it more before choosing. I’ll reimburse you for the tickets.”

  “The movie? You’re sure that’s what it is?” He doesn’t seem convinced. “If it’s something else, you need to tell me.”

  “What else could it be?” I ask, playing dumb. Of course the kiss thing from the beginning of the night went undiscussed. But just because I was hyperaware of the buildup and let down that it caused doesn’t mean he is.

  “I’m not exactly sure.” He tries to make eye contact with me, and I stare down at the ground, making it impossible for him. If he gets a good look, who knows what my eyes might say? I’m accidentally crushing on you. Date me for real and let’s see where this goes. Holding your hand in the movie made me horny.

  “Okay, well, I better go inside.” I hitch a thumb toward the door behind me with my eyes still set on the ground. Even his footwear is great. Polished black leather, glossy against the dull concrete of my stoop. Size twelve? Size thirteen? I don’t even want to know.

  “Maybe I should come inside? We can talk some more. I’m thinking we need to discuss what’s next.” He rubs his hands together for warmth. He wants to discuss what’s next? I pull my hands from my pockets, enjoying the blast of cold air as my body gets increasingly warmer. Is it possible we’re on the same page after all?

  “Yes, come in.” I pull in my bottom lip to hide my smile while searching for my house key. “I definitely want to discuss what’s next for us. I was thinking the same thing, but I just wasn’t sure what you were thinking.”

  “Actually, I was thinking—family?” he says hesitantly.

  Family? The keys I finally found drop to the hard ground with a thunk. Like as in—marriage and family? Wow, he’s thinking way ahead on the what-comes-next level. But he is a planner.

  I’m not there yet, but my lips stay shut while my brain quickly conjures up an image of our possible future children. Oh my God, one of them has red hair. I don’t even know where that came from. It must be his side. They are adorable. There’s three of them. We are the cutest family.

  “Okay. Yes. Family. Absolutely.” My arms wrap around his neck and I hug him. “I mean, not right away, but yes.” I release my tight grasp and swoop down for my keys. I unlock the door and practically float into the warm space.

  “Not right away. I’m not talking about tomorrow,” Henry says, following me in.

  “Of course not.” I laugh. It’s too fast for declarations like the one he just made, and I’m letting my romantic mind get way ahead of myself. But just the fact that we are now hashtag relationship goals is enough to make me want to dance for joy.

  “But it does have to be somewhat quick. We only have a week left to finish up with the last two practice dates before the final exam,” he says. “That’s why I’m thinking, you can meet my family, we can see how that goes, and you can advise me accordingly before this all ends.”

  Five giant men wearing yellow hard hats and bright orange vests burst into my home. One of them reaches into my chest and pulls out my heart. He tosses it recklessly onto the floor, and the other four men begin to demolish it with jackhammers before placing it back behind my ribs. Our three future children march in single file out my front door and in their places strut four furry cats.

  Breathe. Deep breath. All the way in to the deepest depths of my lungs, and back out.

  I misunderstood. It’s okay. I remind myself to blink and make a silent vow to pull back on my romance reading. An overload of fiction has clearly addled my brain.

  But seriously, what a moronic assumption. It’s been three fake dates. Am I that stupid, desperate, ridiculous? I allowed my mind to jump ahead with every bad date I’ve ever had, and now I’m even doing it on fake dates. So, yes, to all three.

  This one more week we have left, I need to get it together. No more losing myself to a one-sided romance. This is fake. Not real. Remember that!

  “I was thinking next Friday.” He runs an uneasy hand through his thick head of hair. “Actually, I was thinking Friday and Saturday. My parents have a cabin a couple hours’ away. I was hoping you’d go up with me and spend the night. Separate rooms, of course.”

  “Mmhmm, mmhmm.” I nod excessively. “Mmhmm.” There will be no actual words until my brain is properly reset.

  “It’s too cold for the golf course, but they have an excellent driving range. If you’re okay with it, we can do dinner with the family on Friday night. Sleep. Go to the driving range on Saturday and then you can give me any last-minute pointers and tips on the car ride home. Then we can plan for the last, first date and then you’re done with me.”

  “And what about me being more assertive? Did we forget about that?” I snap, my words coming back a bit more sharply than expected.

  “No, not at all,” he says, taken aback. “I thought you were making progress. I hadn’t noticed any issues. Is there something you want to discuss? Is it about tonight? The weekend?”

  “No,” I bark out fast. “No.” I take a deep breath and say softer, “Friday and Saturday are fine.” I need to quit it with these bitchy outbursts. Who knew the bitch reflex was connected to the heart? At least jackhammered ones that can’t tell the difference between real and fake.

  “Okay, well, that went quicker than I thought.” He looks around as if he’s unsure what to do next. Probably annoyed he came inside since our discussion only took thirty seconds. Maybe if I hadn’t jumped up and hugged him like some assuming psycho, we could have wrapped this up and he’d be on his way already.

  “Yeah, it’s late so you’d better go. I have stuff I need to work on, and I’m sure you have places you’d rather be.” I step back over the two feet we made it from the door, granting him the freedom to bolt.

  “It’s like nine.” He chuckles. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  I shake my head with a smile, and his eyes once again go searching around the room, scanning my overstuffed bookshelf against the back wall. “Is that Boggle?” He strides across my room and untucks the old Boggle game from the bottom of a stack of mysteries. How did he even see it? I have no clue. “We could play?” He holds it up.

  “Sure.” How does someone say no to a grown man with puppy dog eyes? Sexy hazelicious green-tinged… what am I doing? “Actually, wait, no. I’m sorry. I really do have things to do tonight.”

  I need to scan CatchLove all night for a potential man to make me forget all about you. Possibly all day tomorrow too. I can already tell you’re gonna be a rough one to forget, Henry Barclay.

  “Oh, okay.” He deflates a little. “But can you pack it and promise me we can play next weekend?”

  “Sure thing.” Pack Boggle for our overnight trip. Wow, I definitely read him wrong.

  He places the game down and walks slowly back over to my doorway, stopping right in front of me.

  “Oh no, not this again,” I say, pressing my hand into his chest, trying to back him up and away from me. The romance fantasy is over. It’s back to business. “No more forehead kisses. Add that to the list of don’ts on a date.” There. I didn’t say it before but I’m saying it now. “You either kiss on the lips or you don’t kiss at all.”

  I open up the front door for him, stepping to the side. But he doesn’t leave. Instead, I’m pulled in, and without any warning, his lips are brushing up against mine. Soft, gentle, giving me time to adjust before being pulled in tighter and kissed with more vigor. My forearms are pressed against his chest and instinctively, they slide up, my hands locking behind his neck—the universal sign for give me some tongue.

  He does. My mouth welcomes him, and we practice French kissing our brains out. Although no practice is needed. This kiss is life. It is everything. If this moment were for
real, I would slam the door with my foot and take a hacksaw to his tightly pressed jeans.

  Minutes go by. It’s just kissing but as his tongue circles mine it sends sexified alerts to my body. My nipples stiffen in response, confused and taut under my bra. They don’t understand why they’re being teased this way without being touched. My brain tries to step in and fails miserably. Neediness pools downward, awakening and bewildering the living heck out of my very hopeful vagina. Tits and vajays do not understand practice kisses. They’re craving more, and I’m afraid what will happen if they don’t get it soon.

  The five men in hard hats return to help me unclamp my grip from Henry. It takes all six of us to pry my hands apart and let go. My feet falter, and I stumble back breathless.

  “Better than the forehead?” Henry breathes, tugging on the collar of the shirt sticking out from under his sweater.

  “It was,” I say in one breath before gasping for more oxygen.

  “Noted.” He clears his throat.

  Air rushes from my swollen lips, tugging them down. Noted is now my most hated word.

  “Well, then. Goodnight,” I say, and he steps outside.

  “I’ll call you during the week and we can finalize for the weekend.” He turns and starts down my steps. The back of his hair is sticking up and out of place. Did I do that? The memory of his thick hair on my fingers makes me blush. “Don’t forget. Friday, we’ll play Boggle,” he says, twisting only his head back around.

  “Okay.” I flash a quick smile and quickly shut the door.

  Newsflash, pal, we just played it. You just shook my entire body and boggled the fuck out of me.

  Old Dog. New Tricks.

  “How was last night?” Jenn hops up onto my parents’ kitchen counter.

  “Last night was … good.” I make a silent prayer thanking Jesus once again for the tightly pressed boner-hiding jeans I opted to wear. My beta dating has taken a few unexpected turns. I’m finding myself very attracted to Trick. A beauty on the outside for sure, but what I’m realizing is it’s what’s on the inside that has my head a bit turned around.

  “You like Trick.”

  “Of course I do.” I planned on stopping by my parents’ house quickly to discuss the weekend. Neither was home, but Jenn was here. Lucky me. “Trick’s been very helpful to me. After this is done, I feel confident I will have much better luck meeting a woman.”

  “Wait? What? Dumbass.” She reaches out and palms me upside the head. “Are you really this stupid?”

  I inhale through my nose. If it had been my brother who just did that, he’d be flattened on the floor right now. Instead my sister gets away with a death glare warning.

  “When are Mom and Dad coming home?” I ask.

  “Next Tuesday? No. Next Wednesday. That’s why I’m here. I’m house sitting.” She reaches back, opens a cabinet, retrieves a bag of Oreos, and opens it all without looking. “They group texted us all about it. They’re in Naples at Aunt Lynda and Uncle Walter’s condo,” she says with a mouth full of brown goop.

  Family group texts are the bane of my existence. I may have silenced the group around the holidays and forgotten to undo it.

  “Dammit, so much for that plan,” I mumble to myself.

  “What plan?” Ears of steel never misses anything.

  “Me and Trick were going to spend a night at the cabin so she could meet the family. I figured it would be good to touch on all bases while I still have her services.”

  “Henry, you know you like Trick, right?” She has swallowed the Oreo but the memory of it lingers on in her teeth.

  “I already told you I do,” I say firmly, ending the discussion. I know what she’s getting at, but I refuse to acknowledge it because I do not plan on having the same argument with her that I’ve been having with myself the past few days. Yes, I have feelings stirring for Tina… Trick. But I’ve told myself that it’s only because it’s been so long since I’ve actually dated someone. It’s only natural that the line may have gotten a bit blurred. Nothing that won’t go back to normal once this is over. “I guess I’ll have to come up with a new plan.”

  “Just because Mom and Dad aren’t going to be there shouldn’t make you change your plans.” Jenn hops off the counter to follow me into the hallway. “I’ll still go. And Remi and Adam can go. We’re family. We count.”

  My younger brother, his filterless girlfriend, and my meddling overopinionated sister.

  “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

  “What? No! You want to introduce her to family where she can give you the most feedback. Um, hello. We’re the part of the family you need help with the most. We’re unpredictable.” She goes to her signature move of little sister prayer hands. “You have to bring her. Please. I really want to meet her.”

  “Why do you want to meet her so bad?”

  “Because. I want you to meet someone and move on already from… the past,” she says almost guiltily. “Then maybe I can finally meet someone.”

  I hold in my grumble. Jenn has this theory that she won’t be able to meet the right person until I do. She had this weird dream or vision about some person named Ryan who dictates what order we’re all supposed to end up with significant others in. Apparently, it goes Adam, me, and then her.

  “I guess being it’s only one night and she’s already agreed, we’ll still go. But since Mom and Dad won’t be there, I’ll probably just take her out for dinner.” Maybe that new place with the band and dancing. We can dance just like we kissed. Slow, close…. I cough out a small catch in my throat. And, she can tell me if my moves are date-worthy. “You guys don’t need to come. I don’t think it’s worth you going all the way up there.”

  “No, it’s worth it.” My sister claps her hands less excitedly, more evil villain-y. “You are almost there, Henry. You just need a little, tiny push.”

  “I’m almost where?” I ask the back of her head as she goes scampering away. She’s gone. No reply comes.

  I have a bad feeling.

  Or wait… is it a good feeling?

  A Bad Trick

  “Welcome to the Hudson House. Can I start you off with a drink?”

  My match from CatchLove looks over to me to answer first.

  “Merlot, please.” I order for myself because my date hasn’t researched me. Also, no flowers.

  Dan K showed up on time, dressed nice enough, and greeted me with a friendly hello. But he didn’t bring flowers.

  “And I’ll have a Guinness.” My date folds his hands. “So tell me, what do you do?”

  This is a good date. A real date. I should be excited and give it my all.

  “I work in an office. Blah blah.” I give the boring answer. “What about you?” Do you paint giant penises on birds? Talk on the phone? Press your jeans?

  “Oh, I work in an office too. ‘Blah blah.’” He laughs.

  This is bad. What am I doing? I need to give this guy a chance. He’s nice. I can’t screw up every date I go on from now on, comparing guys to Henry. That’s ridiculous.

  “I’m sorry it’s been a long… few weeks.” I give my hair a tousle and try to snap out of it. Date. Good. Try. “Your profile said you surf? That’s not typical in Jersey. Are you originally from here?”

  “No, actually I grew up in California.” He begins to fill me in.

  I’m listening. I’m listening. Dan’s hair is very thin. I’m listening. His shirt is a bit casual for a nice place like this. Henry would be the best-dressed guy in here. I’m listening. Geez, he sure does like to talk. I’m pretending to listen. I nod for show. His eyes don’t exactly capture the light in the same way that Henry’s do. I’m still pretending. I give an “mmm, nice” to keep up the listening illusion. And then return right back to comparing this real date to my faux dates. The faux ones are winning by a landslide.

  The waiter returns with our drinks, and my date raises his glass to me.

  “Here’s to a wonderful night with a beautiful woman,” he toasts. We sip. I sip again. A
nd then one more time. “Now tell me about you. Your profile said you are a fortune teller?”

  No, Dan. The girl with no luck writes fortune cookies, but now I feel stupid telling you that because fortune teller sounds so much cooler.

  “Yes, I’m a full-time soothsayer.” I close my eyes as the wine settles into my empty stomach and warms it. “And I’m having a vision right now. Dinner is your treat. Very nice. Thank you.”

  “Dinner is most definitely my treat.”

  He’s a good sport and he laughs at my made-up mystical prediction. Snap out of it, Tina, you really need to give this night a fair chance.

  “Actually, I’m a writer,” I begin, and my phone starts ringing. “I’m sorry. I thought my phone was silenced. Give me two seconds.” I retrieve my phone. It’s Henry calling. I’m tempted to make an excuse and run off to the bathroom so that I can answer it, but I don’t. I’m on a date. A real one. With a nice guy. I ignore the call, set the ringer to vibrate, and set the phone aside. “I write the fortunes for fortune cookies. I—” My phone starts a second round, buzzing away. I glance and the name Henry is lighting up my phone again. Ignore. “Sorry.” I no sooner get the word out than the phone begins to buzz again.

  “Maybe you should take it. It could be something urgent,” Dan offers.

  “It’ll be quick. I promise.” I take the buzzing phone and leave the table, walking over to the restrooms for some privacy. “Hello?” I answer.

  “Hello. Are you busy?” Henry’s deep voice tickles my ear through the receiver.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? It took you a long time to answer.”

  “I’m. Reading.”

  “Oh, I see. How was your day?”

  “Fi—” I can’t say fine. “I got a lot done at work,” I say, hoping that’s enough. I’m not sure why I’m not just telling him the truth. “How was yours?”

  “It’s a long story.” He chuckles. “Do you have time?”