Page 27 of Sure Shot
99.9% Identical
Bess
Seriously?I don’t run into the guy for almost nine years, and now it’s twice in the space of two weeks?
I look away, hoping that he’ll just disappear. But I’m not that lucky. The next time I happen to glance his way, a waitress is dropping off a glass of wine. I catch myself watching for his sexy smirk when he thanks her.
Goddamn Tank and his goddamn smirk. I’m on this date specifically to forget about him. And now who’s drinking a glass of red wine and undressing me with his eyes?
I’m so irritated I could spit.
“How’s your food?” Brian asks.
I look down and realize I’ve eaten several bites without even tasting it. “Wonderful. How is yours?”
“Great,” he says, stabbing a piece of macaroni.
I squint at it, because I can’t see any sauce or seasonings on it. “You ordered the…?”
“Noodles with butter,” he says. “That’s my favorite. I’m a purist, I guess.” He chuckles.
Yup. My date is officially the least interesting man in Brooklyn. Ten feet away sits a man wearing a tight T-shirt that shows off the hollow between his pecs, where my tongue recently traveled.
I glance at Brian and try to imagine doing the same to him.
Nope. Not happening.
My phone buzzes with a text. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tank place his phone on the table.
I’m not going to be that rude person who checks her phone. Not during dinner. I stay in the moment and make small talk with the dedication of a medal contender in the Small Talk Olympics. I even laugh at Brian’s jokes.
I stay strong for a good fifteen minutes. But then Brian begins an extended conversation with the waiter about the qualities of the house-made vanilla ice cream, and I let myself sneak a peek at my phone.
You look hot in that blouse. Unbutton one more button.
I set the phone in my lap and quickly tap out a reply.What, are you my pimp now?
Not for him, he replies immediately.This is for me.
I glance up to find Tank’s gaze taking a slow, dirty stroll down my body. It’s the opposite of subtle. I pick up my wine glass and take a sip while casually giving him the finger.
Brian is still deep in conversation about the vanilla ice cream. He doesn’t even notice.
Tank laughs, his green eyes flashing. Then he starts tapping on his phone again.In Brooklyn again? And I don’t get a phone call?
I guess he’s going to figure out my situation sooner or later. So I confess.Actually, I live here now. Sorry if I didn’t mention that before. And you KNOW why you’re not getting a phone call.
First he responds with the eyes-wide emoji. And then he writes:You sneaky Pete! My change-of-address card must be lost in the mail. How odd that you didn’t mention it before. Oh well, I guess you were too busy moaning my name. So how’s your date going? Fun guy?
Totally,I lie.
Did he really order plain macaroni?
My ego demands that I ignore his last text. And anyway, Brian has decided that the ice cream passes muster and orders it.
“Nothing for me, thank you,” I tell the waiter, even though ice cream sounds good. I just really need to get out of here.
Of course, Brian eats his ice cream very slowly. He offers me a bite, but I decline out of spite. I polish off my wine and wish I were drunker than I am right now. Maybe this will all seem funnier on Monday morning when Eric asks how the date went.
