He snickered good-naturedly. “Ah, the irony. He wanted to show me his stamp collection after dinner too.”
“Please don’t tell me you went home with him.”
“Why would you care?”
“I don’t,” I lied. “It seems…dangerous. Don’t go home with strangers. Isn’t that a rule or something?”
“No, it might not be wise, but it’s not a rule. I was being impetuous…wild and crazy. Turns out I’m not good at spontaneity. If you recall, I invited you to my place after I met you in a dingy bar in the dark. If you hadn’t been a gentleman, I might have ended up on the eleven o’clock news.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m no gentleman. And no, that was not smart of you.”
Cody smiled. “Maybe not, but it’s nice to know there are good men out there.”
“Well…thanks, but you’re not going to meet them on a dating app.”
“I might. I have another date with a different guy next weekend. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
He changed the topic…something about analytics and platform performances. I had no clue what he was talking about. Not for lack of intelligence. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of him going out with a stranger. A dude in a band he wanted to get kinky with in the bedroom. Geez, if he wanted those things, he should go out with me. I’d spank him in a heartbeat and—wait. That wasn’t my kink. I mean, I wasn’t not into it, but that wasn’t the point.
The point was—
“Cancel,” I blurted.
Cody did a double take and cocked his head. “Cancel what?”
“Your date. It’s not safe. You should just…” I took a deep breath, wondering why I felt suddenly nervous. “Go out with me.”
Silence.
“Are you asking me on a date?” he stage-whispered.
I nodded slowly at first, then with gusto. “Yeah, I am. Cancel your plans with dork number two, and…go out with me instead.”
He squinted suspiciously. “I thought you were too old for me. Oh. Wait a second. You feel sorry for me.”
“Sorry for you? How?” I sputtered incredulously.
“Oh, in the usual cool guy ways. I get it. If I were in your shoes, I might feel the same, but I assure you, it’s unnecessary. One bad date won’t deter me from experiencing life for two months.”
“Ah. Unbelievably, I think I get it.” I let out a half laugh. “You’re literally on a quest to check off a bucket list.”
“Yes, I told you so, and I rarely say anything I don’t mean.”
“Same here. I wouldn’t have asked you out if I didn’t want the pleasure of your very odd company,” I teased. “At least with me, you know what you’re getting. I play guitar in a rock band, and the weirdest game I’m into is Words with Friends. However, I do like Red Vines. I’m not obsessed or anything, but I could do some damage if you left me in a room with them. Is that a problem?”
Cody grinned like a madman. “Not for me.”
“Good. Let’s go now.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, why wait? We’ll keep it casual. You can answer some of the questions I’ve been storing up for you.”
His face fell. “Oh, I see. Like friends. I get it. That’s good. Very good.”
“Huh?”
Cody swiped his palms on his khakis. “I don’t know if I can eat now, but go ahead and ask me whatever you want.”
I felt the invisible wall go up like a drawbridge over choppy waters. I was doing something wrong, but I wasn’t sure what it might be.
“Wait. You just said you wanted real food. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Is that your first question?”
“No.” I frowned when he opened the potato chips and shifted on his chair. “First question...I’m curious—and maybe a little worried about this list of yours. What have you accomplished so far?”
“I’ve tried online dating, spent the day at the beach, baked an upside-down pineapple cake, went jogging, and watched a sports game on television.”
I bit back a smile. “I see. I know about the beach and the date…how’d the rest go?”
“Awful. The pineapple stuck to the bottom of the pan, and the cake was dry. Jogging is terrible. It was hot and sweaty and gross. And I don’t get baseball. It’s boring, isn’t it?”
“Fuck, no.” I glowered. “Baseball is the best. Maybe you don’t understand the rules.”
“It’s rather simple. Hit the ball, run to the bases, one at a time, ending up on home plate. Theoretically, the process should take minutes, but none of the players actually hit the ball. I thought they were supposed to be good at it.”
I smacked my palm against my forehead. “Oh, boy. That’s only the general idea. Baseball is a little more involved.”
“If you say so,” Cody singsonged, studying a potato chip before nibbling it like a mouse.
“Yeah, I do. Also…jogging sucks, and no one likes pineapple. I’m thinking your list needs some revision. Try pumping weights and making a chocolate cake instead,” I advised.
“But those are things I’ve done. The idea of the list was to try new things that felt like an experience. You have a better shot at having an adventure when you go for a jog than going to a gym. And pineapple is delicious.”
“No, it’s not. It’s right up there with prunes. And if you tell me you like prunes, we may have a problem here.” I smiled when Cody giggled, then put my foot on his chair and cocked my head. “There’s got to be more to your list than that.”
“Of course there is, but it’s personal and most of it is…”
“X-rated?” I suggested.
“Maybe.”
I snagged the half-nibbled chip from his fingers and popped it into my mouth. “Now we’re talking.”
“Oh no, we’re not. I’m not sharing anything else.”
“But how can I help you ace this list if I don’t know what you’re looking for?”
Cody did that openmouthed fish thing again. “Help me?”
“Yes. Tell me the three things that rank highest on your list.” When he didn’t speak or move a muscle, I tried a different tactic. “I’ll start. Things I want to do—”
“In the short-term,” he interjected. “They have to be things you can accomplish before summer is over.”
“Got it. I’ll give you one mild, one hot, one super spicy.” I held up a finger and paused to bide my time. I was winging it here big-time. “Mild…I want to go to the Griffith Observatory. I’ve lived in California for a couple of years, and it’s something I’d like to see. Hot…hmm, I want to do one of those spicy barbecue sauce taste-tests, like that show where you start with tabasco and see if you can make your way to Mad Dog 357.”
Cody wrinkled his nose as he tossed the chip bag onto his desk irritably. “No, you’re purposely misconstruing the objective of the exercise. There should be a modicum of self-betterment involved. Hot sauce does not qualify.”
“And upside-down pineapple cake does?”