“Um, hey,” he says, “you look . . . great.”
“You too.”
And he does look good, but ugh, he smells terrible as he leans in to kiss me on the cheek. Like he threw a canvas bag over my head and squirted lime juice and alcohol directly into my nostrils. He’s never worn cologne before. Why now? I hate fragrances. They make my eyes water, and I always . . .
“Ah-choo!” I double over.
Oh boy, and now I need a tissue. I dig one out of my bag and blow my nose. Jude and I stare at each other. He looks scared, and I back away a step to avoid a second wave of nasal assault.
I groan inside. Why didn’t I trust my own instincts about my makeup instead of listening to Logan? I’m no cosmetics expert; I never wear much. I shouldn’t have tried to lay it on thick with two minutes to spare in a dimly lit bathroom.
What the heck’s wrong with my best friend? From his shocked expression, Jude clearly doesn’t like a heavily made up woman. And if there’s one thing I am tonight, it’s that. With a forced smile and holding my breath to avoid sucking in more of that awful fake citrusy scent, I follow Jude inside to make the best of it.
We stroll around Think for about an hour, checking out the pieces on display. The current theme is community. The art is mixed media with photography, which is my favorite, and the works include paintings, sculpture, and illustrations of things you’d find in a community, which can really mean anything. There’s even a little room with an experimental auditory and olfactory piece that replicates the sounds and smells of a garbage truck rumbling through an urban neighborhood. Which somehow still smells better than Jude.
I’m apparently as eye-catching as the art. More than one visitor to the gallery does a double take as they pass me. Eventually, I can’t take it anymore. Before we leave for dinner, I excuse myself to the bathroom to wash my face. It takes two and half rounds with industrial hand soap and paper towels, but I finally get the whole mess off. Luckily, I find an old tube of clumpy mascara and a lip gloss in my bag, which I apply after using hand cream on my poor skin. Now I’m kind of ruddy red, but it’s better than before.
Jude smiles a genuine smile—of relief, I’m sure—when he sees me. “Um, I hope you aren’t offended by this, but you look so much better without all that makeup. Beautiful, in fact.”
“Thanks.” I smile back and then add on a whim, “I only wore so much because Logan told me that Emmy told him that you appreciate women who look really polished, including lots of makeup.”
His eyebrows pinch. “She did? Really? I don’t know why she’d say that. I’m pretty sure I’ve never said that. Ever.”
“Huh.” We start walking. The restaurant is a few blocks away.
“So . . . let me ask you this,” he says. “Do you adore cologne?”
I squint at him apologetically. “No, not really.”
“I was wondering. Emmy said Logan told her you did.”
I almost choke. “Um, no. It’s the opposite of true.”
His mouth quirks. “Sorry about the way I smell, then.”
“I’ve gotten used to it. I try to picture you swimming in a gin and tonic.” I wink at him.
We’re laughing as we arrive at Il Posto, a posh Italian eatery down the street from Think. The hostess seats us at one of their high-backed round booths. We talk about the art for a while, then about work, and finally the conversation comes around to the club.
“Are you and Bean signing up for the Colorado Canine Challenge?”
I finger my glass of rosé. “Do you think we’re ready?”
“For the novice division? Absolutely. She’s a natural, and your throws have come a long way.”
I snort. “Thanks. They had a long way to go.” A few of my first ones hit the dirt so fast it was like they were being shot at. “Are you and Emmy going with Meadow?”
“They’re competing in the advanced division for distance and Meadow and I are in freestyle.”
“I can’t see how either of you will lose. You’re amazing.”
He runs a hand over his jaw, which has the perfect amount of stubble, in my opinion. “Meadow’s the amazing one. I guess we’re good at helping her show her skills, but—”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, because without warning, Emmy and Logan pop out from around the side of the curved booth.
“Surprise!” Emmy says. “We’re making this evening a double date.”
She slides in next to Jude, and Logan sits beside me. He doesn’t look as excited as she does. As for Jude and me, I’m pretty sure the waiter could walk naked out of the kitchen and we wouldn’t be as surprised.
“How did you know where we were?” I ask.
“Jude told me,” Emmy says.
“How . . . fun.” I’m not sure what else is appropriate to say.
My date’s eyes narrow at Emmy, but when he looks at me, I nod to let him know it’s okay with me if they stay. Logan sighs.
“We haven’t ordered yet, so you aren’t far behind if you want to join us,” Jude says grudgingly.
“Great!” Emmy scans the menu.
She cleans up well. She’s wearing an adorable floral halter mini-dress and heels, her hair is super-straight and sleek, and she’s wearing the perfect amount of makeup. My own face is still raw from the scrubbing. But that wasn’t her fault. I don’t think.
“You look great, Emmy,” I say.
“Thanks, you too! Love your dress.”
I sneak a peek at Logan. He’s focusing on the menu like it might hold the secret to everlasting happiness. I realize I’m glad to see him. A double date is fun, even if we didn’t pre-arrange it. On the other hand, I’m suspicious. Why did he tell me Jude liked women to wear a lot of makeup? What are he and Emmy up to?
Whatever it is, we don’t talk about it. The conversation floats from the upcoming competition, to politics, to the latest blockbuster movie that none of us have seen but agree we should, and ends with us enthusiastically noshing our food, including a divine flan for dessert.
When it’s time to go, Logan and I decide it makes the most sense to share a Lyft home. Jude kisses my cheek again before I get in the car. Not exactly the most romantic of goodbyes, but Logan and Emmy were standing there waiting for us.
“What was that about?” I ask Logan in the car. Although I’m sure the Lyft driver doesn’t give a crap what we’re talking about, I keep my voice down.
“What was what about?”
“The double date. The makeup thing. The cologne thing.”
He glances sharply at me. “I mean, the double date was Emmy’s idea. Otherwise, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I glare at him. “I think you do. Jude definitely does not like a lot of makeup. And you know I hate cologne.”
“I didn’t force Jude to douse himself in Old Spice.” He snickers.
I huff. “It wasn’t Old Spice.” Frankly, Old Spice would have been better than whatever Jude had worn.
“So, good date?” Logan asks.
“Best one in a long time. Jude’s a really nice guy.” I turn to the window, so I can’t be sure, but I think the smirk slides right off his face.