“You know—I never really felt whole with a woman. All this time, I believe that was payback for never asking you out.”
I laugh, but he doesn’t.
“I’m dead serious,” he stresses.
Why are he and Jake so serious? I am not in that same headspace for some reason. For the first time ever, I’m simply having fun with two great guys. No strings attached, no pressure—or so I’d like to believe.
In reality, they’re both showering me with lots of time and attention to the point of making me feel obligated to give them an answer. An answer to what, I don’t know. On one hand, Bobby hasn’t led me to believe he wants me to be his girlfriend. On the other, Jake has declared he’s going to marry me when he’s done with law school.
Pretentious ass.
How dare he expect me to wait a combined total of six years for him to get his shit together? He’s assuming I’ll have a heart left to give him three years from now. I don’t even have one now. Unfortunately, I left it in San Francisco.
That’s actually a song, isn’t it?
“We’ve been keeping things light the last couple times we’ve gone out,” Bobby says with a slight smile. “We’ve skated around a lot of things.”
“Like what?” I challenge. For some reason, I don’t feel like eating the remainder of my pancakes and bacon.
“Like your love life. About that guy who bought you that bracelet my mama made.”
Oh. That. I look down at my wrist, silently cursing myself for forgetting to leave this turquoise gem at home. Jake has no idea where this came from, but I should’ve known better than to wear it in front of Bobby. He was the one who knocked ten dollars off the price and rang it up for Drew.
Stupid, stupid me.
“Well—my love life is non-existent.”
“I don’t believe that,” Bobby says.
“I was with a guy for three years who really wasn’t my boyfriend.”
“What!” He’s appalled. “Wait a minute…”
“We were exclusive,” I clarify. “We just didn’t have a label. We simply called each other best friends. Then, when I finally challenged him on the status of our ‘relationship’,” I stress in air quotes, “he bailed.”
“What a lame ass.” Bobby grimaces.
I hunch my shoulders. “That situation pushed me to take a road trip to California, where I met…you know. The guy you saw me with.”
“Drew O’Brien.”
I’m taken aback.
“I saw his credit card,” Bobby admits.
I sigh in relief. “Oh yeah—that’s right.”
“And I looked him up. Didn’t know he was that Drew O’Brien. The billionaire.”
My heart is palpitating all over again. I can’t believe Bobby actually looked Drew up. Why?
“I had to see who my competition was. I figured I had no chance after seeing who he was.”
“Really?” I’m a little miffed that he assumed I would choose to be with someone for money over love.
“But then, I remembered how smart you were back in middle school. That’s why I waited for the summer fling period to run its course before reaching out to you.”
“Excuse me?”
I don’t mean to squeak out my irritation, but Bobby is really putting a sour taste in my mouth. I’m not sure if this is intentional on his part, but it’s unappealing in every sense of the word.
“I meant that more for him, not you. He’s a man. A rich man. A rich single man. I figured he would’ve done something after a while to piss you off and make you wanna ghost. I take it that’s what happened?”
Fuck a duck, man. He’s reading me like a book.
“You don’t have to answer that. So, you two had just met when I saw you again for the first time at the strawberry festival?”
I nod in shame. “Yeah. We’d just met the day before.”
Bobby laughs. “I swear, you two could’ve fooled me. The way he was so possessive over you, I thought you’d been together for a long ass time.”
“Yeah. Nothing really came out of that,” I sorrowfully admit. “He lives in San Francisco. I live here. It was over before it started.”
“I’m so sorry you had to endure two heartbreaks this year,” he murmurs. But as he says it, he’s smiling.
I grin back. “You don’t look all that sorry to me.”
“It’s because, in reality, their loss is my gain,” Bobby confesses.
His level of confidence is more than endearing. As I look at him, I try to conjure up those old middle school feelings. I remember Bobby Fisher being the last thing on my mind before falling asleep all those nights. Whenever I would read a love story, I’d imagine Bobby as the dashing hero. Even after I graduated on to high school, he was always the benchmark of the perfect guy for me. He was always polite and respectful, yet he was still popular with all the guys. And all the girls wanted him.
All this time, I had no idea that he wanted me.
Now, he’s here telling me that I’m his gain?
I’m slowly trying to pick up every piece of my blown mind off the ground. It’s useless.
“I know this may be a cocky thing to say, but I’m hoping by the time the holidays roll around, you and I are exclusive. I’d love to surprise my mom one of these days and bring you home for dinner. She would lose her shit if she knew we were dating. She always adored you.”
I sit there and stare at him as if I’m out of my mind. Or maybe he’s out of his.
“Wow—I…”
He laughs. “Cat got your tongue? Look, I know I’m being a little forward. I just want you to know what I’m working towards. I don’t know about you, but I like to set goals. And my goal this year is to make you my woman, Quen Waverly.”
Jesus Christ, this is killing me! Between him and Jake, I don’t know if I’ll have any sanity left after all this. Any chick in her right mind would be doing cartwheels. Two very hot guys fighting hard to be with me?! Man, oh man…this is the stuff wet dreams are made of.
With that being the case, why do I feel so empty?
Quen
My dad and I used to make fun of the hoity toity, Michelin Star touting restaurants; the ones that bring you glorified artwork they call a ‘dinner entrée’, when in reality, it’s just one third of an appetizer.
I remember when Mom made us go to a place like that years ago. She’d been planning this fancy dinner outing for months. The waitlist for this French restaurant was ridiculous. When the time came, we were all spiffed up in our ‘Sunday’s Best’ attire. Dad ordered the steak and potatoes.
When the server placed his meal in front of him, it consisted of two puny beef medallions, and five tiny potato wedges swimming in a teaspoon of bourgeois sauce. My father immediately shouted out, “Hey—where’s the rest of it?!”
Mom was so embarrassed.
We never let her forget how hungry we were after spending three times more than we would have at Outback Steakhouse. I swore I’d never get gypped like my parents and eat at another place like that.
But here I am, all dressed up and sitting across from Jake at a restaurant that’s the size of a small cottage. He insisted on bringing me here, even though it took him two weeks to get us in. If it weren’t for a sudden cancelation, our reservation wouldn’t have been until after New Year’s.