A Novella MisTaken(3)

Jaylene couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Could this day possibly get any weirder? “You’re planning to stay at this until you marry the guy off? You can’t possibly think you’ll find someone for him. You must be kidding me.” That called for a refill.

“I wish I was kidding.” Andy grabbed for a notebook and pen off of the coffee table and slid into the corner of the sofa. “So if it went that badly, I’m afraid I’m going to need to know every last detail. Top me up, too, will you?”

Andy did look sort of pained. That was good. Because, job or not, Jay was going to describe her awful evening so Andy knew just how much she owed her. This ought to be good for a couple of more wine nights, and maybe even some cat-sitting while she was at her ex-roommate’s wedding next month.

Pleased with the thought, Jaylene settled back into the cushions and began. “I got to the restaurant early. Because there was still a good half hour before our reservation, I thought I’d sit at the bar and grade some papers over a drink while I waited. It was a hot day, as you know, so I ordered a Sam Adams.”

“Always a good choice.” Lacy grinned. “Sorry, go on.”

“I was halfway through yet another tedious and mundane essay about how Catcher in the Rye changed this student’s life when this gorgeous man sits down next to me. I recognized him from the pictures right away. I hold out my hand for a shake—he doesn’t take it.”

“I’m sure he didn’t notice,” Andy offered.

“Oh, he noticed, all right. He stared at my hand and said ‘Jamie?’ in this curt tone that said he didn’t approve of my name.”

Andy waved her hand dismissively. “He seems to have a thing about names fitting the way a person looks or acts. He calls me Drea. Best just to ignore it.”

“Well, it isn’t my name, now is it? I told him he could call me Jay.” Because to hell with a guy deciding what a woman should be called. Maybe she needed to invite Andy to her monthly Femme Power group meeting. Anyway. “His gaze went from my hand—still just hanging there, mind you—to the beer. And I think that must have been the moment he decided I was gay.”

Her story was interrupted by a guffaw from Lacy. “You? With the trail of broken-hearted men you’ve left in your wake? That’s rich. Andy’s boss is an idiot. I suppose he thinks only lesbians drink beer?”

“Bingo.” Jay touched her nose. “He actually said something similar to that later on, but we’re still at the bar right now, me holding my hand out like an idiot, thinking he has to take it at some point because who does that? Well, he does that. He actually turned around and started walking to the table without ever acknowledging my unshook shake.”

“Unshook Shake sounds like a song title.” Lacy grabbed her acoustic guitar and started strumming softly. “I’ll credit you, though.”

“I wait a second before following him, because I have to grab the papers I was working on and stick them back in my briefcase. I get over to the table and he’s sitting in the shady spot. I try to scoot my chair so the sun isn’t shining directly in my eyes, but he says, get this, ‘I prefer you sit across from me.’” She took another swig of wine and shook her head. She still couldn’t believe she’d actually followed his instructions instead of insisting on another table, or better yet, leaving. But she’d been taken completely off-guard, and just sort of went with it.

Also, the man was attractive. Beautiful men were definitely her weakness. Such a contradiction to the foundation of her being.

She shook her head—if her thoughts spiraled into all the stupid things she’d done for beautiful men and the bitterness she had at herself regarding that fault of hers, she’d never get her story finished. “So the server drops off a glass of wine and an iced tea. That’s when I realize he’d ordered drinks for the both of us while I was putting papers away. And that he had taken the liberty of ordering me tea while he’s drinking something fancy enough to require the waiter to watch him sniff, swirl, and sip.”

Andy scribbled something on her notepad. “I’m sure he was probably trying to impress you. Blake’s social skills aren’t super developed.”

“It wasn’t impressive. It was a total dick move. If he was trying to impress me, he’d have ordered me a glass, too, so I could admire his taste.” She took a swallow of her wine, hoping to calm her growing irritation. It didn’t help. “Why are you defending him? You weren’t there. And ‘not super developed’ is a kind way to describe his social challenges.”