Page 8 of Blind Bite
“Well, at least Beckett kept his ex girlfriend trauma to himself during dinner.”
“He could have pulled a Mark and showed up to your coffee date in full Renaissance gear,” Amelie doubled over, laughing, “sword and all.”
“Hold up! How did I not know about the sword?”
“It was plastic, but that didn’t stop him from challenging random guys to duels for my honor.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “Pretty sure the barista had 911 on speed dial.”
“Still beats my dating app disaster with Movie Quote Guy. Remember that train wreck?”
“You have bewitched me, body and soul,” Amelie croaked in her worst British accent.
“Stop!” I launched a pillow at her face. “You’re ruining Pride and Prejudice for me, again. And you know Kiera is my girl.”
“At least our dating disasters make for epic stories.” Amelie hugged the pillow to her chest. “We could totally make a podcast out of this mess.”
“No one is going to want to listen to us talk about our bad dates,” I chuckled.
“Are you kidding me? Our misfortune is their entertainment!” She scraped the last bits of ice cream from her bowl. “And hey, maybe Beckett has a really good reason for not texting. Like he got abducted by aliens.”
“Or his phone was eaten by a bear,” I offered.
“Exactly! See? Perfectly reasonable explanations.”
Laughter bubbled between us, it washed away the ache of being ghosted like a wave of stupid scenarios and shared misery.
The forgotten horror movie droned on while we one-upped each other with dating disasters that belonged in their own horror franchise.
“Speaking of disasters...” I snatched the remote, ready to dive back into my trashy TV salvation. “Let’s see what fresh tea is in this week’s Love Village.”
“You’re hopeless,” Amelie shook her head but settled in beside me.
Overly dramatic music swelled through our tiny living room while the camera swooped across another perfect beach scene.
“Twenty bucks says he picks the wrong girl,” Amelie always acted annoyed by reality TV, but I knew she secretly loved trying to predict the outcome. There was something so satisfying for her to get it right.
“Twenty says the one picked ends up rejecting him and taking the money.”
“You’re on.”
Mysti hopped back onto the couch, curling into my lap as if she’d forgiven my earlier transgression. On screen, Brad, the bachelor—or whatever his name was—launched into a clearly rehearsed speech about following his heart.
“His heart?” I snorted, “more like following his?—”
“Insta followers?” Amelie finished.
“I was going to say something else, but yeah, that works, too.”
The dramatic pause stretched on as Brad looked between the two remaining women. I absentmindedly scratched behind Mysti’s ears, trying not to think about how Beckett had mentioned wanting to get a cat someday.
“Just pick already!” I yelled at the TV.
Brad finally made his choice. The rejected contestant burst into tears, mascara running in perfect black rivers down her cheeks as she fled the beach.
“Ha!” Amelie held out her hand. “Pay up.”
“Wait for it...” I pointed at the screen where the ‘winner’ was processing Brad’s decision. Right on cue, her smile turned to one dripping with schemes as she rejected the leading man and bounced away with a briefcase full of cash.
“Ha, call it a draw?” Amelie choked out between catching her breath from laughing at Brad’s misfortune.
