Page 3 of Composed
Riley taps her pen, once, then twice. “Are you distracting me so I don’t show you the video of you singing Bon Jovi on top of a bar?”
“No.”Yes. I’m nothing if not predictable after a few drinks. There are way too many videos of me butcheringLivin’ on a Prayerout there. I don’t need to see any of them.
“Hmm.” Her brow dips. “I bailed on the date. Ended up at my dad's for a cuppa instead.”
“What happened?”
“He wanted to go to the cinema.”
I lean back in my chair. “I thought you planned a dinner date?”
“We did.” She chews the lid of her pen. “He texted at the last minute asking to change it.”
“Oh, well what a twat he was then.”
“It’s not his fault. We weren’t compatible. It happens. Maybe I’m just not cut out for the dating thing.”
A frown tugs my lips.
At twenty-eight, Riley has a string of failed dates, shitty relationships, and bad partners in her history because people don’t understand who she is. They don’ttryto understand who she is.
Society has spent so long teaching us that if we aren’t typical, we aren’t worthy and that fucking sucks.
Because Riley may not fit the mould some arsewipes decided was the standard centuries before, but she’s worthy of everything. She shouldn’t have to mask herself or hide who she is just to experience love.
I graze her pinkie with mine. “I’m sorry, Riles.”
“It’s fine.” She waves me off. “I’ll just be a spinster like you.”
I blink. “Did you just call me a spinster?”
“You are thirty and single.” She shrugs. “Did you know they considered Charlotte Lucas at risk of being a spinster when she was only twenty-six?”
I laugh. “I have no idea who that is.”
“Pride and Prejudice.” Her brows hike. “I gave you the book for your twenty-eighth birthday.”
“Oh, that. I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
She shakes her head. “I’m just saying. You haven’t been on a date since…” She looks up from her notebook, cool grey eyes trained past my ear as she taps the pencil in her hand. “You’ve never been on a date as long as I’ve known you.”
“I’ve dated,” I insist.
“One night stands off Tinder don’t count.”
Coffee spurts from my mouth, spraying the island as I choke on the steaming liquid.
Okay then. Maybe I haven’tdatedin a while but there’s nothing wrong with a woman getting her rocks off without needing to be wined and dined beforehand.
I snatch a rag from the counter and swipe away the dripping liquid. “That doesn’t make me a spinster.”
“I’m just saying.” Riley scribbles in her notebook. “Socially speaking, you’re past your prime.”
“Uh huh.” My eyes drift over her laptop. I huff a laugh when I see what she’s working on. “You’re editing too many romances. They’re rotting your brain, woman.”
“Maybe.” She chuckles.
And then she sighs.
