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?”
“I’ve been on a date that involved karaoke but I’m pretty sure it was coincidental.” He lifts a hand to get the moderator’s attention.
“Everything going okay?” she asks tentatively. So tentatively I wonder what kind of interesting stories she might be able to tell about these speed dating events.
“I’d like to buy her a drink. Whatever she wants.”
When she looks to me, I smile. “Can I get a vodka and Sprite?”
“Sure.”
“And can we also do the question game?” Rhett asks.
Again our moderator looks to me for confirmation so I nod my agreement.
She brings my drink and then hands us each a pad of paper and pencil.
“I’m going to ask you three questions about each other. I hope you were asking lots of good questions and getting to know one another because these are tricky. After each one, I’ll ask you to show each other what you wrote. Each correct answer earns you one minute which between the two of you could add up to a grand total of six.”
Rhett chuckles quietly.
“Ready?” She looks to each of us.
I sit tall in my seat like a good pupil. “Ready.”
“What is your date’s favorite color?”
I laugh. “Favorite color, seriously?”
“It’s the most frequently asked first date question,” she assures me, then adds, “Take a guess.”
Rhett holds the pad of paper up and scribbles something. I take a guess, blue, and we show our answers.
“Did either of you guess correctly?”
Rhett nods enthusiastically. “Yep, love blue. It’s my most favorite color ever.”
“And pink is… also my most favorite color.” We share a secret smile.
“Two minutes,” she says without looking at us. “Next question, how many sexual partners has your date had?”
“That cannot be a question people ask on a first date,” I say.
She looks down at me. “It isn’t, but it makes for really good bar conversation.”
I hesitate, but finally decide on a number. Rhett seems to have a lot easier time deciding what to write.
“Okay, let’s see those answers.”
My stomach is in knots. I’m not sure I want to know the answer to this one.
Before we can share, our moderator gets called to help someone else.
“I’ll be right back,” she says before hurrying off.
“Let’s see,” Rhett says, sitting forward.
I turn the paper around and watch his expression as he sees the number. I went with ten because it felt like a good round number, but I have no idea. “Am I close? I don’t need to know the real number, just let me know if I’ve got the right number of digits.”
He barks a laugh. “You think it’s possible my number has three digits? Like one hundred or more?”
“Yes?” Heat creeps up my neck and face. “What did you guess?”
“Five.” He shows me.
The timer goes off and people move. Except neither of us do.
“Do you want to go sit at the bar?”
“What about the speed dates?”
“I think when you find the person you want to spend the rest of the night with, you’re supposed to stop.” He stands and holds out his hand.
When we get to the bar, I set my drink down and Rhett orders another beer. “And can I get a scrap of paper and a pen?”
“Sure thing.” The bartender gets the paper and pen first.
Rhett scribbles something down and folds the paper and slides it to me. “That’s my real number. Look at it or don’t, but I can’t have you believing I’ve slept with a hundred chicks.” He shakes his head. “Where would I find the time?”
I steel myself for what I’m about to see, then unfold it and gasp. “Really?”
He grins. “Really.”
“I... wow. Really? You’re not fucking with me?”
His chest shakes with laughter. “I’m one-hundred-percent serious.”
“But only one?” I’m shocked. How is that possible?
“What about you? Do I get the real number?”
I tear off a piece of paper and write my number on it. Like he did, I slide it to him, but when his fingers reach for it, I don’t let go.
“I don’t care what the number is, angel.”
I let go and bring my thumbnail between my teeth while he looks.
“I was close.” He grasps my wrist and pulls it away from my mouth. “Relax. Three is nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I’m not embarrassed. Not about my number, anyway.”
He takes a drink from his beer and waits for me to continue.
“It’s just this whole time I’ve been worried that you’re some big player and I had it all wrong.”
“Who’s the player now?” he teases.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Just like that?”