She started giggling in her closet and texted: I’m mocking the terminology and THAT IS ALL.
Hallie saw the pants hanging at the end of the rack, so she grabbed them and went back into her room.
Jack: I will concede that getting railed is a shit phrase. May I toss out other options for your approval? I also have a date this evening and want to make sure I don’t say something offensive.
Hallie: WAIT. YOU HAVE A DATE? Was it through the app? Tell me everything.
Jack: Settle your ass down. Yes, through the app. According to her profile, she’s blond, works in marketing, and enjoys running and getting railed.
Hallie: Haha. Are you excited?
Jack: Honestly? Not at all. She seemed cool when we talked, but there’s something nerve-racking about meeting up with someone for the first time when there’s already a love/dating expectation. Chemistry is the thing that matters most on a first date, and it’s so hard for it to be there naturally when everything feels formulaic.
He hit it on the head, why she felt like she was getting ready for a job interview. Hallie dropped her sweatpants and stepped into the good pants.
Hallie: HARD feel that. Hopefully we will both have delightful evenings.
Jack: Your lips to Ditka’s ears. Also, what about “bonked”?
Hallie: First of all, Ditka is not God. And nope, that’s not it.
Jack: Blasphemy. How about “getting hammered.”
Hallie: Sounds like a home repair.
Jack: Getting my parts jostled?
Hallie: Are you going in for your annual checkup or having sex?
Jack: I’ve got it. “Playing a little in and out”?
Hallie: You are a child, a tiny little man boy who will not be getting bonked, hammered, jostled, or railed if you say any of those things.
Jack: What about “making love”?
Hallie: Vomited in my mouth a little.
Jack: FINE. I’m just taking her out for food and conversation now. You ruined everything.
Hallie: Well, good luck, Jack.
Jack: Good luck to you, Tiny Bartender.
Hallie: I’m not a bartender anymore, FYI.
Jack: You’ll always be MY tiny bartender, but what happened? Did they fire you for getting railed by the best man at a wedding you worked?
Hallie: Ignoring your dipshittery to say that I quit both of my part-time jobs to be a full-time grown-up.
Jack: So if I want to return that engagement ring . . .
Hallie: You’ll have to bother someone else.
Jack: Too bad. You’re quickly becoming my favorite person to bother.
Hallie: Later, Jack.
Jack: Later, TB.
Hallie: You do see why that cannot be a thing, right?
Jack: My apologies for calling you an infectious disease.
Hallie: I hope you never have to say that to me again.
Jack: You should be so lucky.
Jack
“Why are you smiling like a jackass?” Colin asked.
Jack looked up from his phone, and Colin was watching him like he’d lost his damn mind. He replied, “Why are you staring at me like a creep?”
Colin flipped him off, and Jack set down his phone and said, “Your wedding bartender is fucking hilarious, if you must know.”
“So you two are talking now?” Colin asked, picking up a wing and raising his eyes to the wall of TVs above the bar.
“Not like that.” Jack finished off his wings while he told Colin about the app and his conversations with Hallie. “And don’t mention it to Liv. I don’t want her to think it’s a thing when it isn’t.”
Colin grinned. “Your sister doesn’t have a lot going on right now, so this really would get her mind firing.”
“Poor Livvie,” Jack said, laughing.
The morning after their wedding, the Uber driver who was supposed to take Colin and Olivia to the airport accidentally ran over her foot. Thankfully, he just got her toes, so no surgery was required, but they had to reschedule the honeymoon because she couldn’t even wear a shoe over her swollen, broken toes.
“She’s okay,” Colin said, still wearing the dumb smile he always wore when he talked about Liv. “I took her to Barnes & Noble, so she’s in bookish heaven at the moment.”
“She probably doesn’t even care about the foot anymore.”
“Right?” Colin wiped his fingers on a napkin and reached for his beer. “Is there anything you do want me to report to her about the dating app, by the way?”
“Oh, shit, what time is it?” Jack looked down at his watch and muttered, “Yeah, you can report to her that I have a date tonight.”
He raised his hand and gestured to the waitress that he was ready to settle his tab.
“You just inhaled twelve wings and now you’re going to dinner?” Colin looked equal parts impressed and disgusted. “Seriously?”
“Yup.” Jack picked up his glass and finished the last of his iced tea. If he were being totally honest, he wasn’t looking forward to the date. At all. He still felt like shit about Vanessa, but not because he was heartbroken about the breakup or hesitant to move on.
No, Jack felt like a goddamn fool.
If he was sad about Vanessa, it was because he was sad to learn he was wholly lacking in self-awareness and good judgment. He was sad to discover he was too desperate to see things clearly.
Because how had he ever thought he and Van were a good idea?
She was beautiful, and a decent person (when she wasn’t being jealous), but they were wildly different. He liked eating wings and watching football, whereas she liked pointing out how disgusting wings were and how pointless football was. He’d grown up with three dogs and was an animal lover, but Vanessa thought dogs had revolting breath and had repeatedly told him that she would never, ever get one.
She’d even said ewwww when his dad’s dog licked her hand.
Which, honestly, should’ve been the world’s biggest red flag, right? What kind of a monster says “ewwww” in regard to Maury the Pug?
Yet instead of parting ways with Miss Dog Hater, he’d purchased a diamond ring for her. He’d ignored everything that should’ve been obvious to him in his rush for . . . hell, he didn’t even know what he’d been rushing toward, exactly.
But what if he made that sort of mistake again? Was he so pathetic that he’d blindly latch onto anything pretty and interested?
He forced his neuroses out of his mind and said, “This way I can order something healthy and look responsible.”