Page 10 of Bad at Love
“They go out with you because you’re hot,” she says, then quickly looks away. An adorable flush begins to spread on her cheeks.
“Did you just call me hot?” I goad her, wanting her face to get even redder.
She gives a half-shrug. “Maybe. And, well, you are. And you know it. And everyone knows it.”
“When the girls contact me, it’s in a DM and they don’t know what I look like.”
“You’re lucky. When I get a DM it’s dick pics,” she mumbles. Then she sighs. “And looks aren’t always important with women. They fall for you because of your words, because of the person you are inside. Or the person they think you are.”
“You just said it’s because I’m hot.”
“It’s everything. You’re the full package. Believe me. There aren’t many guys out there that are funny, smart, hot, talented, and deep. Every girl dreams about a guy writing beautiful prose about her. Why do you think historical romances are so popular? They want that Mr. Darcy whispering sweet nothings or penning out long and emotional love letters. They think that’s what you offer them.”
“I don’t really.”
“Iknow that,” she says. “I know you’re completely insufferable. But they don’t. They’re in love with theideaof you.”
“Well, I don’t know how to fix that. And I don’t know if I should. After all, I broke up with Simone. It wasn’t the other way around.”
“You could fix it…” she says and then trails off, her bright blue eyes caught in some kind of tangent.
Part of me wants to press the issue, if not just to hear her opinion. But the other part wants me to push on. There’s nothing in my life that needs fixing.
“Anyway,” I tell her, “I’m not Taylor Swift, thank you very much. And what happened with Simone was a shame, but what can I do? Would you rather me stick it out with someone just for the sake of sticking it out? If you don’t love the person, what’s the point? You’re just leading them on.”
She nods, rubbing her lips together. “You’re right. I’msorry it didn’t work out. Better luck next time.” She pauses. “Please don’t tell me you already have someone else lined up.”
Well…last week at Magic 8 Ball’s show in Burbank, there was a cute girl who caught my eye. Gave me her number.
Marina squints. “Don’t tell me it’s that girl from the show last week.”
I raise my palms in defense. “I’m telling you nothing. But yes, maybe it’s her. Maybe this fashion blogger or whatever you call them online.”
“You’re unbelievable,” she says. “Okay, how about for once you just stay single for a week? Just a week. Don’t contact either of those girls, don’t contact anyone. Just…be you. Alone.”
“No problem.”
“Yeah right,” she says under her breath. She turns her attention to her phone and presses the button so the time flashes on the screen. Her forehead creases and she looks to me with worried eyes.
“Hey, you don’t have any Ativan do you?” she asks, putting her palm out on the table like I’m a traveling pharmacist.
“Not on me, why?”
“I have a date tonight.”
I don’t know why I hate hearing the word date come from her lips, especially when she dates so often, but I do.
“What’s his name again?”
“David. David the doctor.”
“And what date is this?”
She purses her lips together comically and flutters them. “The third.”
I can’t help but smile. Poor Marina goes through thissong and dance every single time. When she likes a guy, she never seems to get past the third date. When she doesn’t like them, it barely goes past one.
I don’t understand any of it. Marina is both gorgeousandcute, which is a brilliant combination. She’s also smart, has a good figure (excellent tits and arse if I do say so myself), has her own business (albeit an unusual one), and is a lot of fun. My friend Frank says he’d be all over her if she wasn’t so damn awkward, but the funny thing is, I think her awkwardness only makes her more endearing. And honestly, I wouldn’t let someone like Frank touch her anyway.
