“Man, and I thought you were going to tell me a saucy sexapade that led you to falling in love and her dumping your ass. Boy was I wrong.” I raised one eyebrow and giggled like a schoolgirl.
“The only woman I’ve ever loved is Stace, and we both know that’ll never happen.”
“Aw, you haven’t tried hard enough.”
“She chose you over me, Red. We had something special. Both you and Stace picked someone other than me and Coen, and until you see that shit, you won’t understand how broken he is.”
“He? I thought we were discussing you and Stace?” I felt verbally attacked, he was projecting his emotions about Stace onto me.
“He’s fucked in the head because of you. If you knew what it took for him to get over you, you’d get your shit together and love him. I love you, but I’ll pick him every time.”
“We were teenagers! When are you both going to get over it? We all make mistakes, and I can’t make up for them if you can’t forgive me.”
“He loved you, Red, so goddamn much! Maybe you should try being a friend before you both fall too quickly. I don’t want either of you hurt, and I’m not sure if he could take anymore.”
He loved me? What was he talking about. Yeah, he loved me as a friend. Just like Conor loved me, but in love with me? Fat chance.
I wasn’t pretty enough or good enough for him to love. A perfect example was Felicity. He dated and almost married a fucking supermodel-like woman. He would be settling if he chose me.
He gripped my shoulders gently and brought me into a warm, teddy bear hug and kissed the top of my head. Him and Coen were so freaking tall I was like child height in comparison.
“He doesn’t love me like that,” I argued.
“You’re wrong, he’s crazy about you, Red.”
No, no, no, no. What have I done? If what Conor said was true, I really fucked up.
Breaking from the angsty topic, he squeezed me tightly for a moment and then sighed dramatically. I felt like he was attempting to lighten the mood.
“I know that after everything, it’ll take a special kind of woman to claim my heart.” He pulled away, chuckling and gripping his chest while batting his eyelashes.
“Don’t be turning into a fuckboy, Conor.” I smacked his shoulder. It stung my palm and probably hurt me more than his bulging arms.
“I’d never!” He pretended to act hurt and then winked.
“I don’t think I’m any closer to know what to write…” I said, desperately trying to get the conversation back on track.
“I could tell you about Farrah. She was interesting.” Conor hesitated, trying not to explode from holding in his guffaw.
“Shoot,” I prompted.
“Farrah Moyer, she stole my heart.”
“Oh, fuck. One of those stories,” I joked. My not-so-silent laughter provoking a glare from him.
“She’s this big wig’s daughter. She’s supposed to inherit millions, but when we fell in love, she broke it off.” Conor adjusted on the couch, grabbing a pillow, holding it to his chest.
“We started dating through B&B, and then her father reminded her she’d be marrying another man soon. I didn’t know this was a life-long plan for her. She knew, but not once did she mention it. Her dad forced her to break it off with me, and a week later it was in the tabloids that she got engaged to some prick named Jerris Rhys.”
“Wow.” It was the only response I could muster. How did I comment otherwise? It’s a bunch of fucked up and I didn’t think he’d ever loved anyone other than Stace.
“I never thought I’d fall in love again after Stace, but I did. Too bad it was for nothing, and now I’m free sailing. I’d rather fuck broads without my heart having anything to do with it. Students are my favorite.”
“Gross,” I remarked. That was wrong on so many levels. “You shouldn’t do that shit.”
“I’m over it.” He shrugged, but I saw the torture in his eyes. Sure you are.
“I have more stories!” Conor tried shifting the subject again. I checked my phone’s clock, and I’d already been here for two hours. Shit.
“Maybe another time? I’ve got what is probably going to be the shittiest date yet.”
“Oh, do tell.”
“Guess you’ll have to buy my book.” My smile felt mischievous. It quirked at one side and didn’t show my teeth.
Before getting up to leave, I hugged him again. I'd missed him more than I'd expected.
“Don’t be a stranger, I’ve missed you.”
“Likewise,” he said with a smile.
9
Ballsy911 – Eric
Author Dating Rule #72: Don’t be a dick.
Rebel
You’d think with a name like Eric, he would be the Prince Charming of my life. Yeah, books were full of fairytales, but real life was full of fairyshit.
Eric messaged me for coffee, and he actually meant the drinking kind, not the sexual encounter type. I was a brown liquid drinker through and through, and my weakness was a tasty French roast.
He seemed like a decent person. His profile described his successes with being an analyst for the NSA, so I strolled in with the expectancy of a chill night. The picture he uploaded was of a handsome man, and I hoped he matched the photo.
“Hey.” His hand met mine, gripping it a little too tightly.
“Um, hi. I’m Rebel,” I started.
“Eric,” he finished before I did. He gestured to the chair across from him, and I sat. “Would you like a drink?” His voice was strained as if he were uncomfortable in this room.
“I’ll take a French Caramel Latte.” My voice faltered when his gazes scanned the room. The door chimed only a moment before, and he was super twitchy.
“Yeah, yeah. Good choice…” He scanned the room while approaching the counter to order. His head bopped up and down, and his hand never quite left his hip.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. How could a guy be such a strong member in the government and be so strained at the same time?
“Here’s your coffee.” Eric handed me the warm brown goodness while never looking at me.
“You all right there?” I used my words concisely, not wanting to drag it out.
“Yeah, just working on something. That’s all.” His head turned toward the chiming door once again. “What’s your favorite hobby?”
“I love to read,” was all I divulged.
“Anything good?”
“Romance, really.”
The entire conversation was awkward and stilted. I might feel self-conscious, but he only seemed paranoid.
“I’m not much of a reader. I do enough at work. I see everything.”
The way he stated that he watched people in a nonchalant way made me shiver. The fun person in me desired to make a joke of it, but I couldn’t find my voice. There was something weird about this entire thing.
“What do you do at your job?” I pushed a little, putting my hand on his arm.
For the first time, his eyes met mine. Their olive tone stood out under the dimly lit room. Unlike most people, he didn’t have smile crinkles by his eyes. It made me sad to think he didn’t have joy in his life.