Chapter Two
JP
“I truly, truly hate you,” I say into the phone as I stand outside the restaurant.
“Do you hate me or do you hate yourself?” Breaker asks. “Because you’re the one who lost the bet.”
“My shoe was untied, I called a time-out, you didn’t listen, you scored the winning basket, and basically . . . you cheated.”
“Jesus,” Breaker huffs. “What a load of crap and you know it. You didn’t call a time-out until I juked you, you lunged, and I blew past you. I beat you fair and square.”
Hand in one pocket, I toe the sidewalk and say, “Well, we needed a replay.”
“Why don’t you act like a man, own up to your loss, and take the consequences without complaining?”
“Because I don’t want to do this.”
“Then you never should’ve placed the bet.”
“Yeah, well . . . I didn’t think I was going to lose.”
He laughs into the phone. “Not my problem.”
“Fuck . . . fine.” I push my hand through my hair. “But this is fucking stupid.”
“Let me ask you this—are you mad because you lost, or are you mad because you’re going on a date that isn’t with the apple of your eye?”
“There’s no apple of my eye.”
Breaker snorts. “Dude, you’re not fooling anyone. You’re infatuated with Kelsey and it bothers you that she wants nothing to do with you.”
“Kelsey?” I guffaw so loudly that I draw the attention of a man walking into the restaurant. I give him a nod and then turn around for some privacy. “Kelsey is a pill. She’s uptight, annoying, and doesn’t know a good thing when it’s standing right in front of her.”
“Meaning you,” Breaker says, his voice full of humor.
“Uh, yeah, clearly. Why would I want to go on a date with someone who thinks more highly of a piece of gum stuck on her shoe than me?”
“Hmm, maybe I should ask Kelsey out. We seem to have a lot in common.”
“Fuck . . . off,” I groan as I turn toward the restaurant. He better not ask Kelsey out. If she doesn’t want me—and I’m extremely likable—then she wouldn’t want Breaker. Kelsey is blind and highhanded. And I wish I didn’t fantasize about her. Frequently. “This was really stupid. I know nothing about this girl.”
“Not true. You know that she lives here, that she owns her own business, and that she believes roses are the most romantic flower in the world.”
“Yeah, exactly. Why this fucking computer thought we’d be a match, I have no idea. It probably saw business owner on our profiles and was like, done. Easy. Match made in heaven. This place is over-hyped and ridiculous.”
“It’s not like you have to stay that long. Just go have a drink and then—”
“That’s not how this process works. You have to stay and have a meal with the person. It’s the godforsaken program.”
Breaker snorts. “Oh shit, really?”
“Yes, really. Something about how they want you to get to know the person before making a snap judgment and moving on to the next date.”
“Makes sense.”
“Yeah, for someone who doesn’t have to go on the date.”
“Dude, stop bitching and just go in there. Jesus, aren’t you late?”
I glance down at my watch. Shit, six minutes late. I sigh heavily and say, “I hate you.”
“Can’t wait to hear all about the date. Have fun, bro.”
“Fuck off.” I hang up as his laughter booms through the phone.
Now, if I were a true asshole, someone who didn’t keep their word, I’d go right past this restaurant, hang out at a bar, and catch the latest Rebels game. But even though that sounds incredibly appealing, I’m not that guy. I can’t stand someone up. I would feel way too damn guilty.
So, I stuff my phone in my pocket and wish this night could be over before it begins.
Going in Blind, what a stupid-as-shit concept.
Letting a computer match you with someone without even seeing what the person looks like . . . seems like reckless behavior if you ask me.
Irresponsible, actually.
And holding them hostage until the meal is over?
Well, guess who’s about to annihilate a meal to get the hell out of here?
Me.
I open the door to the restaurant and am greeted by a more-than-jubilant hostess and an entirely too romantic atmosphere. Strings of large bulb lights are draped throughout the space and there’s a plethora of hanging plants, the vines dangling just above the tables. The walls are floor-to-ceiling exposed white brick, the intimate tables all have that urban, metal feel, and the wood beams that run parallel with the ceiling soften the design.