He turns to face me. “You’re trying to get out of our bet, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not. I just have to figure out which one of these is you, that’s all. And I’m just saying . . . it’s weird that they’re so similar.” I look at him sideways. “Do you have a twin brother you haven’t told me about?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
I shake my head slowly at him. “You’re messing with me. I know I’m right.”
He laughs. “You seem awfully confident that even one of them is me. I think you’d better consider surrendering before you commit any further to your failure.”
I shrug and go back to the computer, feeling sad all of a sudden. “I’m not really the surrendering type.” It’s why I stayed with my ex for so long. I should have gotten out after Sophie was born, but I stuck with it. It’s not all bad, though; I have two more angels under my wing.
His voice softens. “Well, that’s something to be proud of.” He’s not mocking me, even though he probably should be. I have no idea why that lame statement popped out of my mouth. Am I looking to throw a pity party or something? Gah. Talk about a cold shower.
He clears his throat as if he’s about to say something else that will embarrass me even more, but I stop him by speaking up.
“Okay, pay attention now. I’m about to make my decision.”
He starts strumming his two forefingers on the desk, enhancing it with sound effects from his mouth. “Duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duh, duuhhh . . . and the winner is . . . ?”
I click on the last one, opening the profile up completely again. “This is you, Dev.” I slide the mouse over to click on the link that will reveal the photograph, but Dev’s hand on my wrist stops me before I get there.
“Before you do that, tell me why you didn’t pick the first one.”
My wrist is getting tingles where he’s touching it, and I suddenly feel very warm all over. When I turn to look at him, his face seems like it’s just inches away. My breath comes out kind of whispery. “Because the other guy seemed sad or something, and I don’t see you as a sad person. Besides, I have to assume your son is your favorite person, so . . .”
He pulls his hand away and backs up, his expression blank—a mystery.
I click the link on the third ad and find a stranger’s face staring back at me. My face falls. “Oh, poo. I really thought I had you.”
He leans over and takes control of my mouse. “You almost did.” He closes down this profile and opens up the first one, which I rejected for being too sad. The first thing I see after he clicks on the link is Dev’s face.
My heart sinks. “Oh. Shit.” I turn to look at him. “Dev, I’m sorry.” Not only did I call him sad, but I also basically just told him he’s a crap father. Why didn’t I think before I opened my big mouth? Of course he wasn’t including kids in the “favorite person” question. Not on a dating website!
He stands. “No big deal. Don’t feel bad. Unless you’re worried about buying me dinner.”
I look up at him, incredibly relieved that he’s not holding my careless words against me. “Worried? Why would I be worried?”
He smiles and shrugs. “Not everybody’s a good winner. I’ve met a lot more sore losers than good winners in my life.”
Maybe my assessment wasn’t that far off after all. I can see now where the sadness I sensed in that ad is coming from, and I also know how he was able to hide it so well. He’s strong. Not just with those muscles of his but with his heart. He’s one of the good guys.
But I don’t say any of that out loud. Instead, I try to keep the party rolling. “I’m not a sore loser, Dev. I will buy you dinner wherever you want, and go whenever you want to go.”
He claps me on the back of the shoulder. “Great. It’s a date.” He turns around and walks out of the room.
I’m too stunned by his choice of words to respond right away, but then I realize he’s making the sounds of a person leaving. “Where’re you going?” I shout at the door.
“Gotta get back home! My mom is waiting for me. She doesn’t like to stay up too late.”
I stand and smooth down the front of my clothes, sad that he’s leaving, but realizing it would be really silly of me to ask him to stay. What would we do? Play Xbox? He called our future dinner a date, but I can’t just assume he meant it that way. Besides, he’s got baggage. Do I really need more baggage in my life right now? I’ve got a whole entire truckload of my own to deal with.