Page 41 of Broken Hearts
How charming.
“How do you feel about threesomes?”
I giggle because I think he’s joking. He isn’t. After that I stop pretending to be interested in Will and I watch Rhett to see what’s happening with his date. They’re both laughing and talking so I guess better than mine.
Needless to say, Will does not buy me a drink or ask me to play the game so we can spend more time together.
My next suitor is a graduate student at Valley named Chad. He’s nice and doesn’t ask me about threesomes. Who knew the bar was so low? I’m not feeling any sparks of attraction between us, but we’re able to chat about classes and professors to kill the time.
I’m antsy for my chance with Rhett. If chatting with other guys and seeing him with other girls has shown me anything, it’s that I want to spend time with him. I don’t know how far I’m willing to put myself out there, but I’m not ready to walk away.
The next couple between me and Rhett opts for more time and the guy I walked into the bar with finally sits in front of me. He blows out a breath that makes his cheeks puff like a chipmunk.
“Having fun?”
He leans forward. “I don’t want to alarm you but the woman sitting two chairs away from you is on house arrest awaiting trial for a crime in which she cannot speak about. She lives next door.”
“And the one who was cradling your hand?”
“A palm reader. I’m going to live a long, healthy life.”
“So you’ve had about the same luck I have then.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two crumpled pieces of paper.
“You got their numbers?” I ask too loudly and we get some side glances our direction.
“They weren’t winners, but I am.”
I shake my head. Of course he got numbers.
“This is a fun date.” He leans back and stretches out one of his legs, hooking his foot under my chair.
“You’re just saying that because you got a pocketful of numbers as backup.”
“Wait, you really think I’m going to call the lady who read my palm or the one who can’t go more than a hundred and fifty feet from her home for the next three months?”
“If not them, then maybe one of the others waiting to toss their digits at you.”
“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” He moves my chair closer to him with his foot. “What’s your go-to karaoke song?”
“‘Like a Prayer’.”
He closes one eye and tips his head up to the ceiling like he’s thinking.
“Madonna,” I add. “Do you have a karaoke song?”
“No. When I sing, dogs howl.”
“And still you came.”
“I’ll sing badly for you any time. What do you want to hear?”
“I was looking forward to hearing you belt out a love ballad. Maybe some Bryan Adams.”
He smiles so big at me and he has a fabulous smile. The kind that makes a girl want to hand out her phone number. “Bryan Adams? All right. Good to know. I might need to study up on my nineties ballads. Ever brought a date to karaoke before?”
“No, actually. You?”
