Page 72 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
I raise an eyebrow. “Interesting. What is it?”
“For a girl who has been late multiple times in the time that I’ve known you, it does feel hypocritical that you value punctuality so highly in your dates.”
I fight my smile, trying to look offended. “There’s a difference between being a few minutes late and forty-five minutes.”
“What else makes a guy a no-go?”
Well, this could prove to be an interesting conversation, but Fischer is the type of guy who values honesty. I could easily say a bunch of traits he doesn’t possess, but that wouldn’t be accurate.
“That’s a long list,” I warn him.
He leans in closer. “Okay. What about qualities you look for and appreciate? Beyond guessing your favorite flower.”
“No one has done that yet.”
He smirks. “What does Micah Taylor want in a man?”
“He should be funny.” I pull up my mental list that keeps growing as I get older. There are some things that are non-negotiable, like getting along with my siblings and being able to hold a conversation with my dad, but a lot of them are more like wishes than needs. I stick mostly to the wishes as I continue my list for Fischer.
“I want him to have good hygiene and be able to cook. He should like sports, but only enough to make my brothers happy. I want him to like animals and take good pictures of me and enjoy sunrises. He should be romantic and protective and kind, and I’d prefer dark hair over light and dark eyes too. I want him to make lots of money but not be a workaholic, and to plan fun dates and surprise me with lunch when I’m having a bad day. I want him to sing silly songs with me in the car and be good with kids and never lose his temper.”
By the time I finish, Fischer is scowling, and he folds his arms over his chest. “You know that love isn’t some formula that you can count on or even tweak to your needs, right? Dating isn’t Build-a-Bear, and you can’t just invent your perfect man. He’s not going to exist.”
I scoff, more frustrated by his response than I expected. “Excuse me for wanting to find someone who is perfect forme. I never said he had to be perfect.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s still illogical. Perfect in any aspect doesn’t exist.”
“I see perfect matches all the time.”
“Where? On the Hallmark Channel?”
“In real life,” I argue.
He lets out a single laugh. “Name one perfect couple.”
“My stepsister and her husband. Skyler and Kit were made for each other.”
“How long have they been married?”
I know what he’s trying to do, and I refuse to let him sully the utter perfection that is their marriage. “A few months, but they knew each other when they were kids and immediately fell in love when they reconnected last year. They’re soulmates.”
Fischer rolls his eyes. “They’re blinded by infatuation and living off the high of reconnection. That doesn’t mean it will last.”
For some reason, tears prick my eyes, and I grab a piece of bread to distract myself, tearing it into pieces. This isn’t how I saw tonight going. “Kit and Skyler were practically strangers again when they came to my family reunion,” I tell my plate. It’s easier than seeing Fischer’s face right now. “They weren’t even dating! And they are completely perfect for each other and will be together for the rest of time.”
“So they were forced together and formed a bond during a stressful situation,” he guesses.
I shrug, thinking of my own stressful situation this weekend. “The forced proximity trope is big for a reason.”
He groans. “You’re comparing real life to your books now?”
“The books are happier than real life, and they cover the broad scope of tropes and meet cutes so those of us who read them can prepare for—”
“Prepare how?” he interrupts. “None of that is real, Micah. People don’t kiss the person who spilled coffee on them when they first met or get stuck sharing a bed at the full hotel and end up together because of it. Love is a made-up concept that makes people miserable.”
There’s something more here. I don’t think he’s trying to make me cry—I think he’s trying to help me avoid disappointment—but his words cut deep because there’s truth to them. He doesn’t believe in love like I do. And whether he intentionally brought up our own situation with the coffee and the shared bed (in our case, the floor), his argument hits hard.
Thankfully, Sarah returns with our food and a blissful distraction.
