Page 39 of The Girlfriend's Guide to Dating a Biker
“There,” Jake finally said, wiping his hands on a rag. “She’s as good as new.”
He turned the tap on and off, showing me there was no drip.
“Thank you.” I was probably staring at him like he’d just performed actual magic. “That’s been driving me crazy.”
“You should’ve mentioned it.” His eyes held that intensity of his that made my stomach flip. “I would have fixed it for you.”
I mentally ran through a list of things I could break in my apartment for him to fix. I’d added my bathroom taps, shower head, toilet, and refrigerator to my possibilities when Jake spoke again.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” he said, walking around the island bench to where I was sitting on a stool, moving in close. “But first, I have a question for you.”
“Okay.” My voice came out softer than I meant, all breath and zero dignity.
His gaze dropped to my throat for a moment before finding my eyes again. “You free tonight?”
“Tonight?” I blinked as my pulse rioted. “Like, tonight tonight?”
His mouth curved into a smile that was half amused, half I-really-want-to-ruin-you. “Yeah, tonight tonight. I thought I could take you somewhere.”
“Somewhere?” OH MY GOD, WHERE WAS MY BRAIN? Was I doomed to keep repeating everything he said? “On a date?”
“Yes, a date.” His hand found my hip, and I was 99.9999% sure I was never going to find my brain again. “Are you free?”
“Yes.” The word tumbled out. “I mean, yes, I’d love to. What time? Where are we going? Should I dress up? Dress down? How dressed should I be?”
Jake’s smile widened at my ramble. “Seven. And dress however you’re comfortable. We’re going somewhere fun.”
“Fun like roller skating fun or fun like bungee jumping fun? Because I need to know the risk level for outfit planning purposes.”
HOW DO MEN NOT UNDERSTAND THIS ABOUT WOMEN? You can’t just tell us to wear whatever we want! That’s not an outfit instruction; that’s an existential crisis waiting to happen. I need specifications! Parameters! A detailed brief with acceptance criteria!
“Fun like I’m gonna teach you how to beat your brother at pool.”
It’s no exaggeration to say that my heart stopped.
“You remember that?” I whispered.
“I remember everything you tell me, Eden.”
Current emotional status: Error 404: Feelings not found. System overload. Please restart heart.exe and try again.
After Jake left me, with a fixed tap and a broken brain, I immediately took up Google research like it was my job.
Current Google search history:
“how to focus on pool balls instead of his actual balls”
“what to wear pool hall date when you already know how to play but need to look hot doing it”
“is it normal to be turned on by someone teaching you things”
“can you die from watching a hot biker demonstrate proper cue technique”
“how long will a biker wait before he gets frustrated with going slow”
I need to know if bikers count heavy makeout sessions as foreplay or as patience because so far, Jake keeps pulling back right when things get interesting. And while I appreciate his approach (I think?), there’s this part of my brain that keeps running worst-case scenarios about him getting bored with my inexperience or deciding I’m not worth the wait.
UPDATE (4:52 p.m.) Just spent twenty minutes practicing my bridge technique in the mirror to make sure I look competent. Also decided that watching myself bend over an imaginary pool table while thinking about Jake watching me is maybe one of the weirdest pre-date prep things I’ve ever done.
