“Yeah,” I said, but the moment I opened my mouth, the buzzer rang, swallowing my lie.
This time, it was the pizza, and as soon as Alex set the box on the counter, Greg flipped it open. He grabbed a slice and crammed it in his gaping maw, snorting as he chewed, like some sort of zoo animal. My stomach turned.
“Let me get some plates.” Alex’s voice sounded weary, resigned to the fact that Greg was here, eating our pizza, disrupting our date.
“I think I’m gonna head out,” I said, slipping into my shoes.
“What? Why?” Alex followed me to the door. “The pizza just got here.”
“I’m not that hungry.”
My gaze flicked toward Greg, whose sauce-smothered lips were curled in an infuriating smirk. “Smashin’ and dashin’, huh, Melanie?”
“Shut up, Greg,” Alex snapped, eager to play Prince Charming now that I was here to witness it.
I slung my purse over my shoulder and opened the door, ready to flee, but Alex squeezed my arm and gently pulled me back toward him.
“Hey,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. “I’m really sorry about this. This upgrade is completely screwed up now and if it bombs, Vijay’s gonna flip.”
“It’s fine. I get it.”
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
I nodded, knowing full well this was just more of his insincere and meaningless smooth talk.
But when he kissed me goodbye, my whole body felt limp and tingly. And there was nothing phony about that.
17
On my way to the subway, I grabbed a slice of pizza from a hole-in-the-wall on Fulton Street. Despite what I’d told Alex, I actually was hungry. I just couldn’t stomach the thought of staying there, pretending I hadn’t overheard them discussing me like I was some sexual prize.
When I arrived home, Vanessa was sprawled on the couch, one hand clutching her phone, the other hand wrapped firmly around a bottle of rosé. As soon as I shut the door behind me, she asked, “Have you ever heard of this website called JerkAlert?”
My feet froze to the floor. “Um...yeah. How’d you find out about it?”
“It’s everywhere. Don’t you read BuzzFeed?”
“Right. Of course.”
“Anyway, there are some seriously messed-up guys out there.” Her thumb tapped and scrolled against her screen. “Including the guy I was supposed to go out with tonight.”
She held it up for me to see:
Name: Justin
Age: 29
Location: Williamsburg
Review: Our first date was going great until he asked to “fingerbang” me in the bar bathroom. When I told him no, he called me ugly, then ditched me with the bill.
“Oh my God,” I said.
“I canceled as soon as I saw the review.” Vanessa took a swig from her wine bottle. “Why didn’t Vilma know about this? She is so fired.”
It pleased me to know that JerkAlert was of more use to women on the New York City dating scene than an overpriced, overhyped matchmaker. So much for Whit’s claim that the site was purely about catharsis.
“You should demand your money back,” I said.
“Maybe.” She fiddled with her phone for another moment. “I looked up Ray, too.”
Not Ray. He seemed like such a nice guy, so genuinely kind and helpful. Not to mention, he had the keys to our apartment. What if he was sneaking into our rooms and rifling through our underwear drawers when we weren’t home?
Ugh.
“What does it say about him?” I asked.
“Nothing.” Her lips turned up in a coy little smile. “He’s not in there.”
“Wow.” I was shocked. Not because Ray’s reputation was clear, but because of the way Vanessa looked right now: totally lovestruck. “He is a great guy.”
“Yeah.” She took another swig of wine, not bothering to wipe the resulting dribble from her chin. “You were right about him.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“If he moved out of Bensonhurst, I would totally consider dating him.”
Vanessa may have been lovestruck, but she was still Vanessa.
“I suppose it is less than ideal that he’s still living with his mother,” I said.
“It’s bullshit.”
“Okay, but—”
“I mean, he’s pushing thirty. And I’ve discovered that being a building super pays surprisingly well, so it’s not like he can’t afford to move out on his own. Or in with a roommate. Or anywhere that isn’t under his mother’s roof.”
“Have you ever asked him why he lives there?”
“To ‘save money.’” She rolled her eyes, using sarcastic air quotes, as if saving money was a ridiculous notion. “He’s waiting until he gets married to move out. By then, he hopes to have enough for a down payment on a house. Good luck in this market, am I right?”
“Well, that’s kind of...cute, I guess. In an old-school way.”
“It’s kind of stupid,” she muttered, scowling into her wine bottle.
“He’s being responsible. Though I do think it’s important to live with someone before you marry them.”
Her face flushed pink, the furrow deepening between her brows.
“My point is,” I continued, “if this is the only thing keeping you from pursuing a relationship with Ray, maybe don’t let it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe dive in and start dating him, anyway. He can’t live with his mother forever. And, you know, he could change his mind.”
“Men don’t change their minds.” Her hands tightened around the neck of the bottle, so hard that her knuckles turned white. “Men don’t change, period.”
“Sometimes they do.”
“Well, I’m not gonna jump into something with him and get all attached and then discover he’s one of the ones that don’t. I already did that once. And it was horrible.”
“Bad breakup?”
She tilted the lip of the bottle toward her mouth, paused, then said, “Bad divorce.”
As she guzzled the wine, I struggled to hide my shock. “I didn’t realize you were ever married.”
“It’s not something I like to advertise, you know. I prefer to pretend that phase of my life didn’t actually happen. I was really young and really stupid.” She sighed and looked up toward the ceiling. “The marriage only lasted for three months, anyway. At first, I was super happy, but he turned out to be a huge shithead. I walked away with a big lump of cash for all my troubles, but honestly, it wasn’t worth it.”