Page 12 of D.I.E.T. (Did I Eat That?)

“No reason. I like learning about you.”

“Well, I’m not sure what kind of drinks I can find that will fit in with bootcamp regulations, but I’m darn well going to find out. Plus, I know I can find something on the dinner menu. They’re gourmet, but they accommodate everything.”

“You have to hang up now because you’re going there?” he asked.

“No, I have to hang up now because I don’t particularly feel like talking on the phone while driving in this snowmageddon. I need to go home to make myself pretty and then meet up with my friends at eight.”

“Eight, huh? Two hours to make yourself pretty? Since you’re already pretty, it shouldn’t take that long, Geet.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but glamour takes effort. Right now, I’m in a look that sayswork. What I need is a look that saysevening. Drinks with friends. Open for anything. You can’t do that on fifteen minutes of prep time.”

“No,” he said, chuckling again. “I suppose you can’t.”

“Right,” I replied. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. You suppose,” came his odd response. And then he hung up. What was that about? He was the one who ate all and sundry. He was the one getting ‘good job’ back pats from Trevor. So then why didIfeel bad after that, that whatever?

Never mind, Geet. You have drinks with friends to get pretty for.

Making the rest of the drive home lost in my thoughts, I slipped out of my Jeep only to land in a bank of snow up to my knees. Maintenance really needed to get the lot plowed. Once I made it inside my apartment, I peeled off all my layers and put on a pot of coffee to warm me up before I got down to the business of preparing for a night out.

I curled and then finger-combed my hair out to give it style and volume. I wasn’t the hairdresser, but I’d gotten professional tips from my two best friends over the years. And then I pulled out my black leggings, my black off-the-shoulder sweater that fell to mid-thigh, and my black suede wedge booties.

After a little smoky eye action, light cheeks, and pale lips, I picked up my keys and my clutch, then draped my winter wrap around myself—because one did not wear a clunky coat with this outfit—and headed back outside to make my date with the boys.

Dion and Henri were already inside seated at a table. They both waved me over and I smiled walking in their direction, excusing myself past the hostess, letting her know I had people.

A big hug, and cheek kisses for sweet, handsome Henri. I combed my fingers through the short pompadour he was always known to sport on nights out because his thick black hair always felt so soft, and then moving over to a second hug and cheek kisses for Dion, I slid onto the seat across from them and plucked Dion’s olive from his martini, popping it in my mouth. I chewed and halfway through my swallow began to choke because I didn’t know if olives were on the bootcamp-approved list.

Henri jumped up and moved around the table to begin slapping my back until my choking subsided. “What was that about?” he asked.

“Olives,” I whispered because I still hadn’t gotten the full functionality of my voice back. Then I cleared my throat, took a sip of the water that was sitting in front of Henri, and proceeded to tell them all about bootcamp.

“Well, you know,” Henri started. “Glenn and I used to date.” Glenn happened to be the proprietor of Gastro. “You know, obviously, that we’re still good friends. He’ll hook you up with whatever you need, no questions asked.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of your friendship. That would be rude,” I explained. With Kami gone, Dion and Henri were all I had left, aside from my younger sister, Luisa. And she lived all the way across the city. We talked on the phone regularly, but her life was far more exciting and glamorous than mine thanks to all those devastatingly handsome guys dropping at her feet, begging to take her out. Hence the stars actually aligning enough for our schedules to cross, allowing us to hang out, rarely happened anymore.

My sister and I both got dumped around the same time a couple of years back. And whereas she picked up the challenge, turning dating into an extreme sport, after the-numbnut-who-shall-not-be-named had broken my heart, I’d gone an entirely different direction. Who needed a man, anyway? We lived in a glorious age, which meant I had my friends and a battery-operated penis that never gave attitude or told lies. Mr. Rabbit was so honest, he even blinked with a tiny red light when the bad Mr. Battery needed replacing. What more could a girl ask for out of life?

“You aren’t taking advantage of anything. Glen might be a great friend, but he was crap as a boyfriend—maybe some daysIwanted to come home from a hard day at the office with my trousers open ready for a blowie pick-me-up.” Henri turned to smile at Dion, brushing the tips of his fingers over Dion’s jaw. “Right, lover?” he asked softly.

Dion playfully nipped Henri’s fingers and leaned in to kiss him. Man, I loved these two. While not paying a lick of attention to anywhere but our table, imagine my surprise at seeing the waitress step to the table next to me with a drink in hand. She set down the tall, icy glass of clear, bubbly liquid garnished with a sprig of mint and a wedge of lime. “Vodka, lime juice, mint and soda water with a hint of stevia—from the gentleman at the bar.” It was almost a mint julip. Just a low-carb version. I looked over with a smile on my face until I saw the gentleman walking his drink over to our table.Gentleman, really?

“Sinjin?” I asked. “What exactly are you doing here?”

Dion’s eyebrow shot up. “Who do we have here?” he asked.

Sinjin held his hand out. “I’m Sinjin, Geet’s special friend.” The two men shook and then Sinjin turned to take Henri’s, too.

My mouth dropped open as my eyes bugged before I shook my head to collect myself and punched Sinjin’s shoulder, although secretly I was excited to see him—wait no I wasn’t. Bad heart. Calm down girl parts. We werenothappy to see him. His strong, muscly shoulder hurt my hand. I pulled it back to cradle my injury, whining, “Don’t tell him that. You aren’t my ‘special friend.’ That has a very different connotation.”

He lifted my hand while sliding into the seat next to me to rub out the sore spot, placing a kiss to the knuckle. “Okay,” he corrected himself. “I’m Geet’snot specialfriend.”

Grr…

“How did you two meet?” Henri asked, giving the man next to me the onceover. And okay, so he looked good tonight. Well, not just tonight. He typically looked good. So what? That didn’t give him the right to hijack my night out with my friends while wearing that deep green button down, totally bringing out the green and yellow flecks in his eyes to the point that it made them shine, or those deep indigo jeans that fit him like a glove. And who cared that his hair looked artfully styled to appear ‘natural,’ making me want to run my fingers through it? He smelled incredible, warm like citrus and spices—again, no, he didn’t. He couldn’t smell good. He couldn’t have beautiful eyes or wear jeans well. He couldn’t be here.

“I’m Geet’s accountability partner at bootcamp,” Sinjin answered. Both Dion and Henri looked him over.

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