Page 14 of Body Check
She blushes furiously, then looks at me with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Believe me when I tell you there’s not a comedic bone in my body. I’m completely serious. We should hang out. Maybe go for coffee.”
“We’re in a coffee shop right now,” she says, a smile playing on her full lips.
“Fantastic. Is this our first date?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Absolutely not. You don’t even know my name. How can it be a date if we haven’t been introduced? Besides, I’m waiting for someone.”
“Yeah, some dick for brains who didn’t show yet,” I say, fully aware that I’m basically doing the same thing to CurlUpAndDye right now, but there is a difference. My meet up is for a class. If I were dating this woman, there’s no way I’d make her wait.
“Well, he’s coming soon, and I don’t want you scaring him off. You scowl a lot,” she says, reaching for her coffee once again.
Shit. I was trying to smile. I guess Blue’s right about one thing. I look like some kind of deranged animal when I smile. I’ll have to work on that. “When’s he getting here?” I ask.
She bites her lip and scrolls through her phone. “Soon, I think. He didn’t really say. He just messaged a few minutes ago to say he was going to be a little late.”
“Sounds like a real asshole,” I say, then immediately realize that those words sound eerily familiar. “Can I take a look?” I ask, holding my hand out for her phone.
She passes it over, and I glance at the messages. “Oh, shit,” I say, unable to contain my laughter.
“What?” she asks, sounding anxious.
“I have good news and bad news,” I tell her, sliding the phone back across the small wooden table.
Her brow furrows. “What is it? Do you know him?”
“I do,” I admit. “And the bad news is, this guy really is an asshole.”
Her face falls, and her shoulders slump. “Great. Just what I need. So, what’s the good news?”
“He’s already here,” I answer.
Her green eyes dart around the coffee shop, then turn back to me in confusion.
“Nice to meet you, CurlUpAndDye,” I say, extending my hand toward her. “I’m CenterOfTheUniverse.”
She stares at me, her mouth hanging open. “But that makes no sense. Why did you say you were running late?”
“Because I got here and saw you. You’re beautiful, and I got distracted.” I decide against telling her about spotting her in the diner last spring and asking about the party last week. That revelation would demote me from Awkward Flirt to Creepy Weirdo.
She blinks at me as though she’s not quite sure what to make of me. I get it. I’m known for being blunt. Sometimes thatmeans calling out my teammates when they do dumb shit, and sometimes it means telling a stranger she’s beautiful and asking her out on a date before I even know her name.
“You’ve got to tell me your name, unless you want me to keep calling you by your handle. Big fan of murder podcasts, I’m guessing?
“No way,” she says quickly. “I’m a hair stylist. So, you know, curl up, like with a curling wand. And dye, like hair color.”
I nod as it clicks into place. “You’re a stylist? Where do you work?”
“I just started at Mane Street. It’s a few blocks down on the corner. I’m only part-time, though, because I’m also a student at Bainbridge. You know that, of course, since that’s why you’re here.”
Her rambling is adorable, and I don’t think I’ve ever used that word to describe anything in my entire life. “Thanks for agreeing to meet. Something came up suddenly yesterday, and I didn’t realize how hard it would be to get the notes. If you hadn’t agreed to meet me, I’d have been screwed.”
“It’s fine,” she says, waving me off. “Everybody needs help sometimes. Do you want to grab yourself a drink while I pull up my notes? I can share them with you, and after you look them over, you can let me know if you have any questions.”
I have plenty of questions, and they range fromAre you free tonight?All the way toWill you marry me?I might be a fool for love, but I’m smart enough to keep my mouth shut, at least for now. “Can I get you another drink? Or something to eat?”
Her cheeks are flushed again, no doubt because her skin is the color of porcelain. I begin thinking about all the other things I could say or do to cause the same reaction, but she drags my mind out of the gutter when she shakes her head and tells me she doesn’t want anything else. Dammit. Is it bad that I was hoping she’d want a cake pop so I could watch her put her lips aroundit? Yeah, that’s definitely bad. There’s something wrong with me, but I’m in no hurry to find the cure. When I settle back at the table with a cup of caffeine I probably don’t need, she eyes me warily.
