“I mean this in the most complimentary way possible, Lex, but if you were a chick, I’m pretty sure the knowledge you have on me alone would constitute stalker-like tendencies.”
“Don’t I know it?” He barked out a laugh. “I can’t help that I’m a genius. My blessing, my curse.”
“Right.” A headache started throbbing between my temples. “Fine, it’s like a Band-Aid. I’m just going to rip it off and look.”
“I can read the results out loud in my sexy voice if that helps.”
“You have a sexy voice? No shit?” I laughed, stealing the bottle again and taking a smaller sip this time.
“Yeah, one of my conquests said that just this morning, though I think she was just trying to get me to come back to bed rather than jump out her window because my house was flooding.”
I glanced around. “Wow, yeah, I see what you mean. So much water. Good thing we have insurance.”
“Hey, that’s exactly what I said.”
“You’re a bastard—you know that, right?”
“Says the guy whose dog’s died how many times in the past year?”
I scowled. “No more than ten. Totally different.”
“Dude, you kill imaginary dogs. At least I make up an excuse about a very possible home disaster.”
“Fine.” I held up my hands. “I’m not going to argue with you. I’m just going to read, process, and then”—a deep sigh shook my whole body—“get drunk.”
“Right on.” Lex stood. “Maybe wait to drink more out of the bottle until you’ve read and fully understood all the calculations, alright?”
I nodded and pushed the bottle away. I’d had maybe two swigs, hardly anything noteworthy, but still, maybe I’d want to go for a drive afterward—you know, off a cliff.
The first page wasn’t so bad.
Then again, it only had my name, age, height, and weight. Shit, wouldn’t surprise me at all if Lex had my social security number too.
Next page had Blake’s information, everything I already knew.
And the third page had our results.
Her match with David had been in the eightieth percentile. I had that freaking number memorized. Hell, the stupid bar graph was cemented in my mind like a nightmare that came back every time I closed my eyes.
Fifty.
The number was daunting. Our match was in the fiftieth percentile. Numb, I continued reading.
I scored below average in the following areas: ability to commit and relationship history, and above average in sexual promiscuity.
Swallowing the giant lump in my throat, I kept reading.
Stats show that if Client A were to embark on a relationship with Client B, there is a 50% chance one or both hearts will be broken and that the relationship will end within two months once the honeymoon stage is finished.
Two months.
Our program even gave a freaking timeline of the relationship demise.
I shoved the papers to the side. I didn’t need to read anymore. Curiosity was an evil bitch, so I grabbed David’s info and read.
Stats show that if Client A were to embark on a relationship with Client C, there is an 88% chance that the relationship will bloom into success. The relationship will have an even higher chance of success once passing the three-month mark.
No shit.
I shut the folder and checked my watch.
She’d been on her date for one hour. And I was sitting at home, well on my way to getting drunk and feeling sorry for myself because of a few stupid numbers.#p#分页标题#e#
Without thinking, I grabbed my keys and marched toward the door.
“Oh no you don’t.” Lex’s voice echoed through the hallway. “I’ll drive. I had one drink. You had . . . who knows how many. Where are we going?”
I refused to answer.
“Oh, good, so a stakeout? Sounds fun. I’m in.”
“Don’t you have homework or something?” I pushed past him and grabbed my jacket. “Anything?”
His smile fell. “No.”
“What?” My eyes narrowed. “You’re never home on a Thursday night, or any night for that matter. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” His answer was quick, and his jaw ticked into place like he was trying to crack an entire row of teeth. “Drop it.”
“Okay.” Pain pounded through my head. “And we’re going to U Village. He took her to dinner at Pasta and Co.”
“Hah.” Lex laughed, then sobered. “Oh, you’re serious? Pasta and Co?”
“Not everyone’s an expert in seduction, thank God.”
“Pasta. Hands down the worst date food next to ribs.”
“Again, thank God for that.”