Page 45 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

The laugh that passed my lips felt strangled. “She’s one of a kind.”

He nodded and brought the tables out while I sat down at my desk, bracing myself to see her. I knew when to accept defeat, and I wanted to respect her answer, but man, it was hard. I was already counting down the days until it was time to go back home so I didn’t have to suffer in silence anymore.

The door to the trailer opened again, and this time I heard a different voice. “Hey,” Henrietta said gently.

I looked up to see her holding up a giant cinnamon roll on a paper plate and a steaming cup of coffee.

“Want some breakfast?” she asked. “The coffee’s black this time.”

I couldn’t say no to her, not when she was smiling at me like that. “I’d love some.”

She passed me the plate, and I was careful not to let my fingers touch hers, not to let the heat transfer from her skin to mine. I’d be a burning man with no way to save myself from the flames.

I set the cinnamon roll on my desk and took a burning sip from the Styrofoam cup. “Is this from Waldo’s?”

She nodded. “The girls and I go every Wednesday before work. It’s kind of a tradition.”

“Nice,” I said, wondering why we were making small talk. Why it hurt so fucking much to be in her presence and know I wasn’t enough.

“Tyler, there was one thing I wanted to talk to you about...”

My gut dropped. “Yeah? What’s up?” This couldn’t get any worse than rejection, right? Because I’d made countless moves on her, and now I knew all of them had been unwelcome. I felt like such a creep, reliving the kiss on her forehead, two-stepping at the bar, telling her she was beautiful... A dumb creep at that for misreading all the signs.

“About the question you asked me the other night.” She took a breath, her eyes looking everywhere but at me.

“I’m really sorry about that,” I began. “I shouldn’t have crossed a line, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

Her eyes snapped to mine. “What if I want it to happen again?”

“What?” I asked, my mind fumbling for a possible explanation.

“I would be honored to go on a date with you, if you’re still interested, that is,” she said. There was so much vulnerability in her features, and even though I was overjoyed that she’d changed her mind, I had to ask... “What changed?”

She smiled, as if to herself, and said, “Circumstances changed.”

That was all I needed—I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Are you free on Friday night?”

She nodded, smiling.

“I’ll pick you up from your place at seven?”

“It’s a date.”

* * *

The next twodays passed so slowly, I wished I would have asked her out for Wednesday night, but Friday finally,finallycame. As I got ready to pick her up, I realized just how long it had been since I’d gone on any sort of date at all.

It had to be two years ago... when I realized dating on the job was idiotic.

Not dating Hen felt even crazier, though. Despite how nervous I was.

In fact, I was wearing some of my best clothes, had on new cologne, and I hardly felt prepared to walk out the door. So I stood in my living room, got out my phone, and video called my brother Rhett who had been on so many dates, he had to be an expert by now.

He answered within a few minutes, and I saw his front yard behind him.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.

“Watering these damn flowers,” he said. “Mom planted them last spring, and I know if I let them die, it’d kill ’er.” He moved the phone to show the sunflowers in full bloom.

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