“Well, more than the others. I just—ugh. My life. There’s always something fucking it up.”
“Give me a minute. I’ll get you into your house.”
I spring from the car. “Really? You can do that?”
“Yeah. I can do that.”
He heads next door and is back by the time I reach my front porch.
He pokes a couple of small tools into the lock. Then he jiggles the door handle, and it opens as if he used a key.
My jaw drops.
He shrugs. “Misspent youth?”
“Not misspent. Thank you. Thank you so freaking much.”
I step inside, leaving the door open. Adam follows.
Searching all the flat surfaces yields nothing.
Adam digs into the cushions on the couch. Nada.
I spy Chloe curled up in the bottom of my potted fichus tree.
I pick up her limp body. “Did you steal my keys, you little terrorist?”
She answers with a meow.
Nestled into the peat moss where she’s made her nest are my keys, along with three emery boards and two unmatched socks.
I snatch the keys and jingle them. “Got them. The cat must’ve stolen them from my purse. The little turd.”
Adam’s eyebrows rise. “Got yourself a thief, huh?”
Shaking my head, I motion him to the door. “Yeah. She’s almost as bad as your thieving dog.”
“Hey now, I broke into your house so you could go on a date—a date with some douche who isn’t me, to boot. I’ll thank you not to slander my dog.”
I grin. “Just keeping it real, my friend. Your mutt is a thief. But so is my cat, and there we are.”
Adam doesn’t come to my car to see me off like he did last time. He probably doesn’t give a flying rat’s ass if I’m going out with someone else.
He gives a half-hearted wave as I back out of my driveway. I return it, putting on an extra-bright smile.
Why do I care if he doesn’t give a shit that I might fuck someone besides him?
What is wrong with me? I tell him friends only, and then I want him to chase me?
Good Lord, he makes me freaking bi-polar.
* * *
Hunter stands from his bench seat as I enter The Sushi House.
Relief floods through me.
At least he looks like his photos. Tall, fit, and all of his dark hair in place. Hopefully, everything else he’s told me is true as well.
Hunter pulls out my chair.
Would Adam have done the same if we’d have sat at a regular table and not a booth the other night?
We order drinks. I unfold and refold my napkin six times before they arrive.
Hunter’s brown eyes are kind when he says, “Nervous?”
I rub my knuckle across my eyebrow. “A little, I guess. Sorry if the fidgeting bothers you.”
“No need to apologize. Nerves are normal, I’m sure. I’ve been on too many first dates, it’s getting pretty old hat for me, I’m afraid. Second dates are the ones that make me nervous now.”
“Really? Second dates?”
“Because I’ve had so few.” He laughs. “A lot of the women I meet on that site aren’t quite what they’ve presented themselves to be.”
I snatch a breath. “Oh. My. Gosh! Yes, I know exactly what you mean. I’ve had that experience with the one other guy I’ve met through the site. He wasn’t at all who he pretended to be online.”
We chat a bit about online dating and how weird it is, lamenting that there aren’t a lot of other choices without hitting the bar scene.
The stories Hunter shares about his childhood, and the way he and his sister were with each other, are comedian-worthy material.
“…And so my sister rams the forbidden shirt into the garbage disposal to hide it. When Granny comes in, Brit strolls across the room, all nonchalant-like, trying to draw attention away from the hidden contraband. Of course, Granny had a half a plate of spaghetti that she promptly dumps into the sink. You should have heard the sound the thing made when she flipped the switch and turned on the disposal. The house could have been coming down around us. Granny almost had a heart attack, and Britney melted into tears.” He shakes his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I burst out laughing.
I wonder if Adam has brothers or sisters.
Ack! I have to stop thinking about Adam.
Hunter stands when I excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room.
He really is the perfect gentleman.
Did Adam do that? Wait. No. I didn’t excuse myself from the table while we were out.
Damn. Why do I keep thinking about Adam? He is not supposed to be on this date with me.
After Hunter pays the bill, he ushers me outside. We stand by my car and talk. And the more we talk, the more awkward it seems to get. It’s as if neither of us know exactly how to end the evening.