Bolstered by the wisdom of the inner voice, I arrange the tea things on a tray and carry them into the living room to find Justin standing by my craft nook in the corner, flipping through a pattern book.
He turns, glaring at me over his shoulder as he holds up May the Force Be Knit You. “How was this not my birthday present, Collins? Star Wars crochet and knitting patterns? My inner yarn nerd is freaking the hell out right now.”
“Take it, it’s yours.” I laugh at the pure delight that flashes across his face. “I’ve got so many projects lined up I won’t get around to anything new until next Christmas, anyway.” I set the tray down on the coffee table. “And I’m sure your followers will go wild over a shot of you wearing nothing but Yoda ears.”
“Or Wookie gloves.” He flips through the pages as he flops down onto the couch beside me. “Or Jabba the Hutt fat folds! Jesus Christ, Libs, did you know you could crochet your own ring of neck fat folds? I need to get online and order some of this nasty red-orange yarn right now.”
I giggle, grateful for the reminder that Justin is as much of a complete dork as I am. He may be a shark on the outside, but on the inside he’s got a little goldfish in him. It’s why we’re every bit as close as he and Laura are, and why this is going to be completely fine. I just need to remember his goofiness and forget I ever noticed that he is just as hot as the ice bunnies who hang around the arena after the games say he is.
“I’ll order it for you myself, my treat.” I grab my spiral notebook and tuck my socked feet beneath me. “As soon as we’re done with lesson one.”
“All right, let’s do this.” He tosses the pattern book onto the coffee table, clearly eager to get down to business now that there’s a reward involved. He lifts his hands, curling his fingers in a come-and-get-me way. “Hit me.”
“Okay.” I glance down, clicking my pen. “Number one. What to talk about on a first date.”
Jus chews the inside of this cheek the way he does when he’s figuring out a particularly difficult line of a crochet pattern, proving he intends to bring some real thought to this. “I think a better question is what not to talk about on a first date. Most guys are forgiving when it comes to the small talk being a little forced at first. But hit them with something freaky fresh out of the gate and you’re going to have a hell of a time getting the dude to return a text, let alone sign on for date two.”
“Right.” I flip to a clean sheet of paper and poise my pen over the page. “So what don’t I talk about? No big feelings, right?”
“Absolutely. No big feelings. I mean, if you’re passionate about a hobby or something that’s fine, but nothing that might signal that you’re high maintenance. Save feelings for the third or fourth date, and keep those light. Before that, absolutely keep your emotional state to yourself.”
I nod as I quickly jot down a few notes. “Okay. But I think my emotional state is actually pretty solid. I mean, I get nervous with new people and in unfamiliar situations, but once I’m comfortable, I’m pretty low maintenance.”
“True,” Jus agrees. “But your new guy won’t know that. And if you’ve been mooning over him for a long time, he’ll probably be skittish. Especially at first.”
I prickle. “I haven’t been mooning over him. Roger has no idea I like him. I’ve been very subtle.”
Justin snorts. “Yeah, because you’re soooo subtle, Libs.”
“I can be!”
“Um, sorry. No,” he says, a smug grin curving his lips. “Everything you feel shows on your face, babes. If you’re thinking it, the entire world knows about it.”
My cheeks flush so hot I know my face must be turning bright red. “That’s not true,” I protest, though I’m silently dying inside, the fear that everyone knows that I have zero confidence in my dating abilities, and nearly as little in the normalcy of my vagina, returns with a vengeance.
“It is,” Jus insists, leaning closer. “Right now, for example, you’re worried everyone knows that you’re anxious about dating.”
“I am not!” I cross my arms at my chest with a huff and glare up at his stupid face. “I was wishing I’d made coffee, instead of tea, and thinking about how weird it is that you get your eyebrows waxed.”
He laughs. “Liar. And I don’t get my eyebrows waxed. I get them threaded at this little Indian salon around the corner from the arena. They do great work, only make me cry a little bit. Tiny little man tears.”