Page 23 of The Dating Game

“Ooh, yes, that’s good,” Jenny enthuses.

“And tell her she looks real pretty,” Rodger, who’s been following the conversation but not participating, pipes up. “Women like that.”

Jenny and Charissa nod their approval of this. “Definitely,” Jenny says.

“But beautiful or gorgeous would be even better,” Charissa offers. “Even if she will be dressed in athletic wear,” she mutters darkly.

“Got it,” I say. “Will do…”None of those things, I add silently. All these guys have done is give me more fodder for how to be a bad date. “Now can we please get this rehearsal started?”

In answer Rodger taps his drumsticks together and plays the opening notes of our first song. I sling my guitar over my shoulder and attempt to push thoughts of kissing Brooke far, far away.

***

IshowupatBrooke's house at 4:28. I was trying to be late but in a completely unprecedented turn of events there was zero traffic on the drive over. So I drive around the block a couple of times, before finally letting myself park at 4:37. Then I delay a bit further by playing Wordle and reading an article on ESPN about U of A’s men’s basketball team. It’s been a good year for them so far. Go Wildcats!

Finally, at 4:43, I honk my horn, because when you’re involved in Operation Dating Game you don’t go to the door topick up your date. When she hasn’t come out after a minute, I honk again, this time holding it to give the honk a more insistent feel.

My mother would wring my neck if she could see now.

I let up slightly on the horn, but then give it one more big tap.

Sorry, Mom.

The front door pops open, and Brooke appears looking completely hassled. I bite back a smile. She steps the rest of the way out onto her front porch and my smile vanishes, replaced by a very real feeling of doom.

I’m a dead man.

How am I going to keep my head in the game when she looks like that?

I swallow hard, giving myself three seconds, and three seconds only, to scan her from head to toe. Her hair is braided off to one side, the tail of the braid resting on the shoulder left bare by the oversized blue tee sliding down her arm. I almost waste the entire three seconds staring at that bare shoulder, but then she turns to shut the door and I catch sight of the triangle of skin exposed by the cut-out in the back of her shirt and my gaze gets stuck there instead.

Why is so much of her skin showing?

What is she trying to do to me?

Her legs aren’t any better, because while she is in fact wearing leggings, the skintight nature of them leaves nothing to the imagination.

This bike ride was a mistake. She’s a flipping dance teacher. Of course she’s going to own lots of ridiculously sexy athletic wear.

She’s marching toward me, her lips bunched together in an angry frown.

She’s just so dang beautiful.

Even if she’d worn an old t-shirtand shorts I’d be in trouble.

I run my hands over my thighs and take a breath. I gotta get my head back in this game. I hop out of the car and head for my trunk.

“There you are,” I say by way of greeting. “I’ve been waiting.”

Brooke’s steps slow, and her hands fly to her hips. I avert my gaze because the hips feel like another danger zone.

It’s all a danger zone, really. I’m just going to have to not look at her for this entire date.

Which actually could be a good addition to my plans. In my experience, women don’t like it when men don’t pay attention to them.

I make my way to my trunk where my bike is attached to a rack.

“Really?” Brooke snaps. “That’s how you’re going to greet me on our very first date? There you are, I’ve been waiting?”

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