Page 53 of 28 Dates

Michael:Where is the best place to shop for lightsabers?

Caitlin:I don’t know. Where?

Michael:The Darth Maul.

I laugh. It’s too stupid not to make you giggle while performing a massive eye roll.

Caitlin:Lame. Do better.

Michael:What’s a baseball player’s least favoriteStar Warsmovie?

Caitlin:Seriously?

Michael: The Umpire Strikes Back.

Caitlin:You are scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Michael:Don’t fault the joke book I’ve had for years. This is good stuff.

At least a joke book explains the ridiculousness. And there’s something sweet about it. How long has he had this thing that he can still pull it out just to make me laugh? And why go through the effort? I’m intrigued.

Michael:In all seriousness, I would like to make it up to you about last night. Tuesday? Same time same place?

I have no desire to step foot into Dirty’s for the immediate future, and yet curiosity still tugs at me. Why is this guy, the one I barely know, and who has already stood me up, drawing me to him with corny jokes?

My thumb hovers over the reply button right as another message alert pops up. I scan over to it and open it, reading it as my smile pulls into a frown.

Logan:Any time for lunch this week? My treat.

Ugh. We’ve messaged back and forth a few times since our date ended so abruptly last week, and while I still enjoy talking to Logan, there’s nothing about this message that makes me feel any sort of tug like the ones from Michael.

Or the visceral reaction I have to Jonas. Which means it’s time to let this guy go, but ending over a text when he’s been nothing but nice doesn’t sit right, either.

I can be an adult about this, but there’s no way he’s paying for my lunch.

Sure. Tomorrow?

Perfect. Southside Cafe at 12:30?

I pull up the café I’ve never heard of, surprised when I see it’s just around the corner from Dirty’s. I’ll have to walk by the restaurant to get to the café, and the thought alone gives me other ideas of things I should take care of tomorrow. Namely, Jonas. I text Logan back that that will work and I’ll see him then, and then chew on the side of my thumbnail.

Now, what in the heck do I do about Michael? I can’t give him a chance until I figure out a way to clear things up with Jonas. I have to at least try.

Pull on my big-girl pants and let him know what I’m thinking, why I essentially threw myself at him last night despite his rejection. Six months ago he came to me and wore his heart on his sleeve, knowing the risk. Perhaps it’s my turn to do the same.

If only that thought didn’t make me feel like I might puke, it’d be fantastic.

Before I can second-guess myself, bravery somehow suffusing itself into my fingers, I pull up Jonas’s name on my contact list and send him a quick text.

I’m so sorry about last night. Thanks for everything. Can we get together some night this week and talk? There are things I need to say.

There. There’s no way he’ll let me back out of that one. Now I only have to hope he wants to listen.

Before I can stare at my phone, waiting for his reply to come through and driving me batshit crazier than I already am, I grab my files and laptop, slide my feet into my slippers, and head to Trey’s place.

Except I’m not even to his place yet when my phone vibrates in my hand, and I know without looking it’s Jonas replying.

How? I have no clue. I just know he’s a nice guy and despite the awkward levels we had to reach last night, he’s too nice of a guy to ignore me.

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