Didn’t anyone ever teach them ignoring their dates is just fucking rude?
But, no, now I’m stuck with a prickly, unappreciative woman who barely looks my way.
Here I was, trying to be a Good Samaritan, help a damsel in boiling distress and come to her rescue, maybe give her someone to talk to, but clearly, she’d rather stare off into the distance and listen to a reminiscing Edwin than talk to me.
If I were a better man, I’d sit in silence with her.
But I think at this point, we all know I’m not going to allow that attitude to slide.
Leaning in close to Kelsey, I whisper, “Do you actually like that guy?”
The chill, ice-queen fa?ade around her warms—only slightly—as she shrugs and casually examines her nude, manicured nails. “I thought he was nice.”
“Is that what you’re looking for? Nice?”
“I’m not looking for an asshole, if that’s what you’re asking,” she says while giving me a once-over.
“Are you calling me an asshole?”
“If the shoe fits, JP.”
I lean in so only she can hear me when I say, “The shoe absolutely does not fit. If you actually got to know me, you’d see that I’m more than what you assume of me.”
“I don’t agree. You can’t seem to take anything seriously, which I think is obnoxious, you’re messy, something I abhor, and you see the glass as half empty, rather than half full.” She crosses one leg over the other and rests her hands on her lap.
Well, isn’t she just a fucking ball of fun?
“I see,” I answer. Not the definition of an asshole, but it would probably be asshole-ish for me to point that out.
She has me all wrong. Sure, my desk is messy, but that’s the way I fucking like it. And I might be obnoxious, but I can’t help the way I seek attention. It’s in my bones and I shouldn’t be chastised for that. And the glass half empty? That’s called being a realist.
I’m not going to parade around thinking the world is made up of puppy-and-kitty parties where fanciful Parisian desserts are served and romantic comedies blast on repeat as background music.
Sorry.
I’ve been through too much shit growing up, being sucked into a profession I never asked for and ending up stuck with no way out, to sit here and say, yes . . . I’m living a glass-half-full life.
I might have money, but what they say is true—money can’t buy happiness, and that’s the most honest thing I’ve ever heard.
I’m not sure how she developed such a low opinion of me, but it seems to have stuck with her.
Okay, I know . . . I know, I was kind of a dick on our surprise date, but what was I supposed to do, sit back and let her act like it’s the worst thing ever that she was paired with me? A guy has to save his dignity somehow.
Just then, Edwin stands from his chair and takes Genesis’s hand in his. Turning to Kelsey, he asks, “Would it be all right if I took Genesis out for a spin on the dance floor?”
Hell, the fucking balls on this man.
Here I thought he was a bit cowardly with a penchant to touch his glasses every six seconds, but then he goes and pulls this stunt. Takes a massive amount of douchery to do something like this. I didn’t know he had it in him.
“Of course.” Kelsey kindly smiles, but that smile is quickly wiped away when the happy “couple” turn away and head to the dance floor.
“Oof, that has got to sting,” I say.
“Uh, he stole your date, so I’m not the only loser here.”
I shrug. “I wasn’t too attached to her. Honestly, I just brought her because my brothers said I should have a date.”
“Then how come Breaker didn’t bring anyone?”
I glance over at my single brother, who’s entertaining a circle of women. “Because he’s able to pass off the appearance that he’s with someone, when really he isn’t. Younger brother showmanship type of stuff.”
She folds her arms over her chest and says, “This night is stupid.”
“Tell me how you really feel.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why not?” I ask. “We’re both here, have been ditched by our dates. Might as well delight in each other’s company.”
“There’s nothing delightful about your company.”
Jesus, she’s snappy. Good comeback, though. Got to give credit where credit’s due.
“So, what was so delightful about Edwin’s company? Before he lit up with an onslaught of memories, he seemed like a bit of a bore.”