“Oh, this is freaking ridiculous,” she said, setting down the menu. “What are we even doing?”
“Hey, you started it,” I pointed out.
“I was trying to be a good friend and play along with those two whores who I know did this deliberately.”
“Really? This was deliberate? If you want to see deliberate, check out Tori and Colton.”
We both looked across the bar. Tori had a face like thunder, and Colt’s expression wasn’t much brighter. They were both sitting as far back in their seats as they could, and Tori had her arms folded across her chest.
“Kinsley’s gonna get an earful tomorrow,” Saylor muttered. “Off three of us.”
Laughing, I picked up the menu again. “What do you think I should eat?”
“I’d recommend food as a starting point.” She mirrored my action. “I’m getting wine for my starter, lasagna for my main, and the hot chocolate fudge cake for dessert.”
“Wine for your starter?”
“Have you seen these?” She raised her eyebrows. “They’re gross, Dylan. One is goat’s cheese, another is blue cheese, and the third is prawns. What happened to a good old tomato soup?”
“Do you normally eat soup on a date?”
“I don’t normally eat a lot on dates,” she admitted.
To my surprise.
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me you order salads because you don’t want anyone to see you eating.”
She shot me a withering look. “Don’t be stupid,” she said right as someone came to take our orders. We placed them, including drinks, and when the woman had gone, she continued. “You’ve seen me inhale an entire pizza. I just… I hate dating. With a passion. The whole act of dates and going out and pretending like you care…” She shrugged a shoulder. “That’s why I was so apprehensive about tonight. I didn’t want to have to make small talk with someone I don’t know.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have online dating profiles?”
“Yeah, but that’s different. I can talk to them before. I kinda… know them… before we sit down together.”
“It’s not different to normal dating. Not really.”
“Well, no, but if I were sitting here with, say…” She looked around. “That guy there. At table five. I have never seen him in my life,” she said firmly. “I would be hating every second because I’d be worrying if he liked me or if he found me attractive or if I’d said the right thing.”
“Wait—is the great Saylor Green… insecure?”
“I swear to God, I will stab my heel in your balls.”
I laughed as our drinks were brought over. She couldn’t pick up and drink from her wine glass fast enough, and that only made me laugh more.
“What are you laughing at? I’m a real comedian, but I know I’m not that funny.”
I shook my head, still smiling, and met her eyes. “I wanted to do this probably even less than you did, Saylor. I am not ready to date yet, and I’m only here because Colton talked me into it.”
She snorted. “You and me both. Kind of. Not Colton, but the two jerks I call my best friends.”
“Anyway, if I have to do this, I’m kind of glad you’re my date.”
“Aw, stop it. You’ll make me blush.” She held her glass up.
“Like you did when I kissed your hand?” With a wink, I clinked my beer bottle against her glass.
She glared at me. “Why you gotta ruin it, huh?”
“Because seeing you blush is such a rare thing, I feel like it needs referring to.”
“Well, it doesn’t. And I wasn’t blushing. It’s just hot in here.”
“You don’t look hot.”
“I don’t look hot?” Her eyebrows shot up.
This was a trap. “I’m not falling into this trap. You know what I mean.”
“So you don’t think I look hot?” Saylor pouted, but her eyes were far too bright and they gave her away.
Besides, I knew her, and I knew that face.
It was the same one she made when I told her Friends sucked and I wasn’t going to binge watch season three with her.
Granted, she’d won, and I had actually binged half of the season with her, but that wasn’t the point.
I leaned forward and met her gaze. “Saylor, I can’t tell you what I think you look like right now, because it’ll be incredibly awkward tomorrow morning if you end up waking up in my bed, won’t it?”
For a second, her expression flashed with shock. She quickly schooled it back into one of nonchalance, but she couldn’t hide the blush that was coloring her cheeks.
She was so bloody adorable when she blushed. It was the one thing about her that she couldn’t control, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that.
The last thing I needed was her not being able to control her reaction to me, even if I was only messing with her.
Mostly messing with her.
The starters were brought out, bringing an end to that awkward little conversation. It was one of those that should have never started, but at the same time, I hoped would put an end to me having to think about how much I wanted to take her dress off.
Because that would be fucking awkward.
Of course, Saylor wasn’t eating a starter because she lived to be awkward.
I finished mine and pushed the plate to the side. “So what happened to you that made you hate dating so much?”
“Hm?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Does there have to be a specific reason?”
“No, I just assumed there were one or two instances that really put you off. Like, for me…” I paused. “Yeah. So, when I was twenty-two, I’d just graduated and got a job working for one of the lower-table Premier League teams.”
“What is that? The Premier League?”
Of course she had no idea. “Football. Or the sport you call soccer.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything else.
“Do you want me to finish this story?”
“Dylan, I didn’t ask you to start it.”
I gave her a flat stare. My God, she was a pain in the ass. “It was the end of the season and one of the strikers was lining up for a move to one of the teams at the top of the table. I met this girl and on our third date, I needed a date to some party the team was throwing for everyone, including the medical and training staff. Long story short—”
“This is not short.”
“—I found her making out with that striker by the bar.”
Saylor winced. “Ouch. What happened?”
“He moved to the big team, she got pregnant, and he dumped her a year later for a model. Then I moved to the same team a few months after that. It was right around when his form dropped, and he had to do extra work… with me.”
“Oh, damn. What happened?”
“The striker who replaced him outplayed him and they sold him. I went from there to here, and I’m pretty sure he’s now back at the first team.”
“Serves him right,” she muttered as the starters were taken from all the tables. “All right, fine. You told yours, I’ll tell one of mine.”