Page 32 of Hypnotized By Love

“That sounds good,” Mason said. “I’ll get the same thing.”

I wondered if either one of them had considered how much of a mess their choice was going to make, and I found myself saying, “Ribs aren’t really a first-date kind of food.”

“I guess if you can be messy in front of someone and they don’t run away screaming, you’ll know if they really like you,” Bridget said with a coy smile.

Mason smiled back and said, “Is that why you bring your sickly rat-dog? To weed out the first-date guys who aren’t serious?”

“I can weed out unsuitable men all by myself. I bring Lulabelle because she has anxiety if she’s left alone, and I don’t much care what men think about it, first date or not.”

If this was flirting, they were bad at it. And I knew Mason wasn’t bad at it, as he’d been making me feel like my ovaries were on fire, and Bridget had the long groove in her bedpost to prove she was basically an expert, and this was all just confusing.

But instead of staying quiet, I decided to add to the overall weirdness by saying, “I think we should decide as a society to combine first dates with running errands. That way, if things don’t work out, at least you got some groceries and picked up your dog from the vet.”

There was an entirely awkward silence after I spoke, and I wanted to bury my face in my hands. Well, mission accomplished. I had totally pooped this particular party. I hid behind the menu and stayed quiet.

The problem was, nobody else was talking, either. I kind of thought Bridget might ask Mason a question about himself, to show some interest in him, but she didn’t.

If this was how she got guys to fall head over heels in love with her, I was impressed. Because one, I couldn’t figure out how it worked, and two, if it did work, I wouldn’t be able to stand the silence and would never be able to copy her method.

Thankfully, as I was just on the verge of making another inane comment, the waiter approached and introduced himself. Bridget placed her order. “I’d like to get the ribs, but please ask the chef not to putbarbecue sauce on half of the ribs. I can’t eat gluten. And can you bring an extra plate so that I can share with my friend? Thank you so much.”

Mason said, “I’ll have the same thing but with lots of barbecue sauce.”

The waiter said he’d put the order in right away, and I found myself wanting to grab him by the tie and make him stay. I was extremely uncomfortable right now and wished I at least had the menu so that I could continue pretending to study it. Would it be rude to take my phone out?

I didn’t know third-wheel etiquette.

Mason cleared his throat and then asked, “So, Bridget, what brought you back to Playa Placida after college?”

“I attended a trade school for cosmetology and was working up near Orlando after I graduated.” There was a bit of an accusatory tone in her voice, as if it annoyed her that he assumed she’d gone to college. I knew that he was just trying to make conversation, but I wasn’t going to insert myself into this again.

Then she added, “I came back to Playa Placida to run my mom’s flower shop when she got sick.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mason said, and I wondered if he really didn’t know about Bridget’s mom. The way that Heather streamed information through her mouth made it hard to imagine that she hadn’t mentioned it at some point.

Bridget picked up her phone, as if she were done talking to Mason. I kind of expected him to ask about her mom, but he didn’t. He shot me a weird look, and I didn’t know how to respond.

Silence.

Then I thought that maybe Bridget would ask him something about himself, which would make sense, given that it was how conversations usually worked, but nothing.

I had wanted to be a wet blanket on their date, but it looked like I had seriously underestimated my abilities. I was the wettest, mostblanketest killjoy who had ever lived, apparently. My very presence was ruining the night.

Lulabelle wheezed loudly, and Mason again looked concerned. “Are you sure she’s okay?”

“She’s fine,” Bridget said as she set down her phone and then straightened her cutlery. “So, Mason, did you know that Savannah volunteered to help with this year’s summer PTA fundraiser? The silent auction was her idea, and she’s in charge of gathering up all the donors.”

“I’ve heard something about that. But I’m wondering why they’re having a PTA fundraiser in the summer?”

I started to answer, but Bridget cut me off. “It was an initiative started by the president last year—she wanted them fundraising year-round, and since the school district cut the arts program budget in half, Savannah and your mothers are trying to make sure that there’s enough money to replace what was cut. Isn’t Savannah the sweetest? She really cares about others. You probably didn’t know this, either, but during the school year, she goes in once a week to her mom’s classroom and volunteers to help the kids who are a bit behind on their reading.”

“I didn’t know that,” Mason said, but he looked as weirded out as I felt.

What was Bridget doing?

“She really is so kindhearted and compassionate. And the most loyal friend you’ll ever have.”

“I did know that,” he said in a sad way that made my insides twist.

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