The silence was deafening, and the urge to run away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t date.”
Obviously.
“No?”
“I’m a coffee kind of guy.” Chad winked. He fucking winked at me.
“Ah, I see. I’m more of a third dater at the very least.”
The rest of the night was weird but great. I figured this wouldn’t go any further than one date, because we only clicked in a few departments. When he asked awkward questions, I opened up to him. Might as well play this game.
Chad was as scorching as a Ruth’s Chris steak, but I’m not a ho-fa-sho. The hand holding was sweet. We walked the park nearby, and it was surrounded by a pond. Ducks and geese were scattered about, squawking, quacking, and chasing off people as if it were their territory. I found myself finally warming up to him and his firm grip. My lady bits needed to calm the fuck down, or I’d break her three-date rule.
As we strolled around, couples made out, practically dry humping, imitating dogs in heat. When I felt awkward, I laughed my ass off, and this situation wasn’t any different.
“What’s got you doubling over, sweet cheeks?” he questioned.
Sweet cheeks? Don’t only pervy geezers say that shit?
“We walked into our own smut book. You know when everyone is getting down in the dark corners of a club?”
His mouth turned upward, and a blush lit his cheeks, “We could always join in. Make it a little less obvious we’re first timers.”
“That was cheesy as hell!” I practically bent at the hips with the belly laughs escaping.
Everyone else gawked in our direction. Yeah, fuck you too.
“This is so going in my book.” My stomach cramped with each fit of ongoing cackles.
“Only if you make me hot as hell,” he whispered, bringing his face closer to mine.
The tone turned serious when he grabbed my neck and brought my face too damn close. If he didn’t kiss me, I might pass out from the heat flaming my porcelain skin. Chad’s lips brushed mine lightly. It wasn’t bad per say, but I’d kissed pillows with more emotion.
When his tongue went across my bottom lip, I nearly gagged. It felt slimy, full of slobber and mushiness that I couldn’t quite describe. What the hell happened to those mind-fucking kisses in my books? My heart ached. Book boyfriends obviously kissed better, making you curl at the toes, but this frog made me curl at my stomach. Ew. Stop.
I’ll never forget this. Stace would be rolling on the floor laughing while I scrubbed my mouth raw from this disaster.
His hand grazed my boob. That shit was not a tit grab. The difference was astounding. I wrote romance with actual charisma.
Save me!
After I let his tongue molest my mouth, I was ready to get the hell outta dodge. His breath lingered in my mouth, and it took every ounce of strength to not scrape his flavor away. This horrid date made me crave a Funky Cold Medina down the hatch, and I sent up a silent prayer that I wouldn’t puke.
“I’ve got to tuck my kiddos in. Hope you can understand.”
This was the “girl code” me and Stace came up with to ditch men. Since neither of us had children, we were our own alibis.
His face paled in reaction, and I knew it would be the out I desperately needed.
“I didn’t know you had children,” Chad said. His voice dropped an octave.
Oh, look, a Carl twin. Kids scare the shit out of them both.
“Yup, and I better get going. They miss their mommy.”
Way to lay it on thick. Check.
Get away from creeper-clinger-with-nasty-kisses. Check.
Avoid getting a slime disease from slobber-fest. Double Check.
“Uh, okay. Yeah, next time I guess.” The optimism in his voice gave me straight horror.
“Uh huh.”
I’ll make sure to click that “Fuck-off” button. Never again.
I ran as fast as Usain Bolt and got the hell out of there.
Analysis of Date one: I’m never getting laid.
“He tongue tangoed with you?!” Stace shrieked, waving her hands in disgust.
“Yeah, like in Angus Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging, the slobber and everything! Excuse me while I brush his filth out of my mouth.” sticking my tongue out, I made a gagging noise and ran to the bathroom, I squirted more toothpaste than necessary onto my brush and started scrubbing.
‘That’s so gross. You make me want to write a RomCom, babe. I’d have too much fun.”
* * *
I spit out the toothpaste. “This research is definitely not fun, and I’m almost regretting it. Not sure if this is a good idea.”
Hell, I needed a shower to wash away all traces of the gross encounter, and if not writing a book about it, I’d erase it from my memory with a switchblade.
“Don’t let one pile of shit ruin the possible gems out there,” Stacy said. “What if a fucktastic man comes and treats you like the beauty you are? Don’t give up after one frog.”
She was right, but my heart had been spoken for. His name was Coen, and he stole my heart without knowing it.
Stace and I spent the rest of the night binge watching Scandal and writing notes for our next story together. Bouncing ideas off your bestie was literally the best. We busted out over ten-thousand words together, and hoped to get this done before the next book signing together.
We had Nashville next, but it’d be too soon. So, we were shooting for our trip on the cruise in a few months. This book we were co-writing was about a sex addict that fell in love with his therapist. The storyline went deeper than that, but the one-liner would probably be just that.
“Next book after ours, I’m going to write about this sexy rock star with tattoos snaking across his body.” Stacy practically drooled with the admission.
“After our book and this RomCom, I may just write a full-blown erotic novel where there is nothing but sex.”
Carl hadn’t pleased me in months. At least now I knew why.
“I stimulate my clitoris better than he did, and he’d watch the entire time!” I shuddered.
“No wonder you seem bitchy. You need to get laid!”
“Thanks, not that it hasn’t dawned on me or anything.” My voice dripped in excessive sarcasm so she didn’t miss my annoyance. Not that you could. I was a smartass extraordinaire.
“Who’s date two?” Curiosity lit in her irises. “You know, it’ll probably be better than Chad.”
“Blane.”
“Never mind what I said before, sounds like a douchecanoe.”
“Again, thanks for your vote of confidence.” My eyes rolled so strong they could fall out and roll across the street from the force.
Bitch.
She laughed, “But, you’ll have a blast, and maybe he’ll stimulate your lady-bud.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t refer to my clitoris as a lady-bud,” I deadpanned.
“You love me anyway.”
Damn straight. But I wouldn’t boost her ego even more.
3
HubbaHubba-Blane
Author Dating Rule #3: Edit your online dating profile.
Pervs are the million pennies lying in a vat of ten nickels.