The Date Dare

by Tara Sue Me

  I want to say a few choice words, because of course we smell like we’ve done nothing except drink for the last eight hours. “No, sir. We were watching the game at the Spotted Owl, though, and a man who had been drinking was standing next to us and when Atlanta made that last touchdown, forgot he was holding a beer and he inadvertently dumped it all over Kara here.”

  Kara turns her attention the officer, making sure he sees the drowned rat look she’s rocking, but he only spares her a glance before he focuses back on me.

  “Do you really expect me to believe you were at the Spotted Owl and didn’t drink?”

  “I didn’t tell you that with hope you’d believe me. I said it because it’s true.”

  He presses his lips together in a thin line, and though I hope he’s getting ready to tell me to move on and have a great evening, I’m pretty sure that’s not what’s going to happen. Yet, I’m still in shock when he says, “I need you to pull over here to the side and step out of the car.”

  * * *

  “Honestly, Darc,” I say to her later that night when she calls to see how my date went. I’ve just given her a rundown of everything that happened and I don’t have to see her to know she’s trying her best not to laugh. “All I can say is, you are never allowed to set me up again.”

  “For the record,” she says, swallowing her laughter. “I still think you and Kara would make a great couple.”

  “You’re probably right.” I think back to the thoughts I had earlier in the day about that same thing. “But I want to be with someone for a better reason than we’d make a great couple. I want to be with a woman who makes me great. Who makes me more than I am because of who we are together and someone that I make great as well.”

  I don’t know. Maybe I said it wrong because Darcy isn’t saying anything. Or maybe she’s holding back and what she really wants to ask is when I grew a vagina. But she doesn’t do either.

  Instead she sighs softly and whispers, “Yeah. I do know what you mean.”

  “That doesn’t make us crazy, does it? That we want more?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Her voice is small because she’s thinking about what she wants to say. She rarely uses that tone of voice so whatever she’s going to say is very important to her. “Years ago, when I thought about the man I wanted to marry, I had a huge list of things I thought were important. Good job. Funny. That sort of thing. But the more and more I went out, I realized I already had a great guy as my best friend and whoever I ended up with not only had to measure up to you, but to surpass you.”

  I’m not sure how to respond. She’s not saying she wants me. She wants someone better than me. And now she has him because I gave him to her on a fucking silver platter.

  I get what she’s saying because at the charity ball last year, I knew I’d already found everything I was looking for in a woman with her.

  Full stop.

  There is no need for me to look for my soul mate. I know who she is. For me, there is no way for anyone to ever surpass Darcy. She’s it for me. And if the only thing I can ever be is her best friend, then that’s what I’ll be.

  Of course it all sounded better before today. Before she had met a man that she might consider to be the one. Now that she has met him, I’m not sure I can stand by and watch her become someone else’s.

  “Did my phone drop you?” she asks.

  “No,” I answer quickly. “I was just thinking about how right you are with that last thing you said because I feel the same way about you.”

  She lets out another sigh, but this time she sounds all blissed out. “I still can’t get over how amazing Tate is. I don’t think I can ever repay you for setting us up.”

  “Are you seeing him again soon?” I ask. Of course she will. Tate would be an idiot and a half not to set up another date. While some people would question his sanity after he turned down the contract from New York, one could understand where he was coming from even if they would have reacted differently. If he hasn’t asked her for another date, I’ll personally have him committed.

  “Yes.” Her voice is excited. “He said he was coming back this way next weekend and wanted to know if we could do dinner. Especially since we had to cancel our reservation for tonight.”

  “I still can’t believe he took you to feed the homeless.” Outside of Kara, I can’t see any of my recent dates doing anything like feeding the homeless. In fact, I’m guessing a few of them would not only turn their nose up, but also refuse to go.

  This is the type of woman you’ve been dating lately , I tell myself. Shallow and selfish . All at once I feel ashamed. I’m better than this.

  “I know,” Darcy’s saying. “I couldn’t believe it either, but it was such a good way to get to know each other. Very unconventional. But I like it so much better than the same old, same old, you know?”

  “Mmm,” I hum, smiling. “Somehow I don’t know if Alice would have enjoyed it as much as you did.”

  It hit me that I would never want to do anything like that with Alice. Darcy? Yes, definitely. One of the main reasons would be to watch her as she interacts with people. I envy Tate for that. That he was able to see that part of her. She’s such a people person and everyone she’s ever met loves her.

  “Are you talking about O2? That worthless excuse for a woman isn’t going to do anything that doesn’t directly benefit her.” She took a deep breath. “I know it didn’t work out with Kara, and even though I know it could if you’d try one more time, I understand why you won’t. And I’m pretty sure you’ll never let me set you up again, but Elliott, please, promise me you’ll try to find someone worthy of you.”

  “I promise,” I tell her, but only because that’s what she wants to hear. Though I admit the thought of dating some like Alice again turns my stomach.

  Not wanting to think about dating anyone who isn’t Darcy and likewise, not wanting to think about Darcy dating anyone that isn’t me, I change the subject. “Are you going to let me take you out for your birthday?”

  Her birthday is this upcoming Thursday. I always take her out, assuming we’re both in town, which isn’t always the case.

  She hesitates and I picture her biting her bottom lip. “Mom’s actually going to be here on Thursday. And Tate’s taking me out on Friday.”

  “I’m third on the list this year?” I tease. “That’s okay, I can handle it. Can you and I do something Saturday?”

  “Yes,” she says and I hear something in her voice, but can’t tell what it is.

  “If you’re busy,” I reply because I honestly can’t tell if she’s trying to get out of going anywhere with me, “it’s okay. We can always go out another time.”

  “No. Saturday should be fine.”

  I leave it at that, but I can’t help but feel as if she’s not telling me something.

  Chapter Eleven: Darcy

  “I wasn’t kissing her, I was whispering in her mouth.” Chico Marx

  Something’s not quite right, but I can’t put finger on what it is. It’s Saturday morning, two days after my birthday and the day after another incredible date with Tate. Incredible even though we were utterly traditional and did dinner in a restaurant.

  I’m starting to get the impression that it’ll always be that way with Tate. He’s an amazing guy and I find I’m more and more attracted to him each time we talk or go out. And yet there’s this nagging suspicion I can’t shake that I’m somehow not right for him. Part of it goes back to what I told him on our first date - I’m not good enough. But he’s never made me feel that way.

  To be honest, I don’t know what my problem is. Maybe I’ll ask Elliott about it tonight. Just the thought of him makes me smile.

  My phone rings, and my stomach drops when I see it’s my supervisor’s personal number.

  “Meredith,” I say, hoping against hope the call doesn’t mean what I think it does.

  “Darcy,” she says. “I hate to bother you on a Saturday, but the Hoffman Group is in town and their Account
Executive has had a family emergency. I need you to be with them for the tour this afternoon and dinner tonight.”

  “I’d love to Meredith, but I have plans tonight.”

  “I understand,” she says, but then she takes a deep breath. “I’ve never asked you to do this, but I need you to rearrange your plans. This is very important. I wouldn’t ask you to otherwise.”

  “If it’s so important, why don’t you do it?”

  “I’m in California.”

  I close my eyes. I’m going to have to do it. I’m going to have to cancel on Elliott. Damn it all. The one person I can be myself with and not have to worry about what he thinks or how I’m being perceived.

  Reluctantly, I tell Meredith I’ll do it. She’s all happy and full of sunshine and happiness. I have to tell her goodbye before I say something I’ll regret. I disconnect and wait for her to send over my new itinerary for the night. Once I have it, I call Elliott. As expected, he’s less than pleased, though he tries to cover it.

  “It’s okay, Darc,” he says. “I get it. I’ve had to cancel on you before because of work, too.”

  “Once,” I remind him. “Two years ago. And roads were closed due to a hurricane and major flooding.”

  He chuckles, but it’s not a happy sound. “I’m trying to make you feel better, but if you want me to be an ass and remind you that technically I’m your third date of the week so it really doesn’t matter if you blow me off, I can.”

  “We can do tomorrow night,” I suggest.

  “Actually, we can’t,” he says. “I have a prep meeting to go over the agenda for the prospects meetings next week.”

  “That’s your problem, not mine,” I tell him. “I’m telling you I’m free.”

  “I’m available next Wednesday,” he says. “Does that work for you?”

  I’m not happy about next Wednesday. I’m not happy I have to wait that long to have dinner with my best friend. Being around him has always made me feel calmer and grounded me for lack of better words. “Next Wednesday will be perfect.”

  “No,” he says softly. “Wednesday will not be perfect, but I’m pretty sure we can come close.”

  I have no idea what he means by that, but I’m not going to give him any indication that I don’t know.

  “Now,” he says, his voice just as low. “What time do you have to run off to play tour and dinner guide?”

  I glance at the clock in my home office. The only wall clock in my house, I’d refused to leave it behind when I moved here from my old apartment. In today’s tech crazy world where you’re only as good as your most recent gadget, I find myself missing the steady hands of a watch or the rhythmic tick tock of a l wall clock. But no time to dwell on this at the moment, Elliott had asked a question.

  “Around two hours,” I tell him, and it washes over me again just how much I do not want to do this tonight. I want to be Elliott’s date because it suddenly hit me how very rarely we’ve seen each other lately. I almost ask if he’d like to come by my place after I finish work, but I stop myself before saying the words, mainly because I don’t know what time I’ll be finished. He has a key to my place, so if I ended up being later than I thought, he could wait for me inside. But still, it’s not fair for me to ask him to do that.

  “I’d better let you go,” he says, bringing me back to the here and now. “I know all too well how early you want to be.”

  I laugh because it’s true and say goodbye, wishing it was already Wednesday and I’d be seeing Elliott soon and not a bunch of people I didn’t know. I hate the disappointment he wasn’t able to disguise in his voice.

  Unfortunately, it’s only Saturday. I take a deep breath that sounds more like a sigh than anything else and force myself to start getting ready.

  * * *

  Elliott sends me a text halfway through dinner. I know because as soon as my phone buzzes in my pocket, I excuse myself and go to the restroom. I smile when I pull my phone out and see his name.

  I know you’re doing Boring Business Shit, but how about I drop by your place around 11? It’ll be like college. Our old favorite show is live tonight. It’s new.

  I think college might have been the last time we watched Saturday night comedy together. Damn, when did I get so old?

  I respond quickly.

  OMG. YES!

  He answers with a smily face and I walk out of the restroom in a much better mood knowing I’ll be able to see Elliott after this dinner is over.

  * * *

  It’s after eleven by the time I make it home, and it’s crazy how happy I am to see Elliott waiting for me on my couch when I walk in. Everything is all set out: beer for him, wine for me, and he’s even pulled out my favorite fuzzy socks.

  I drop my purse and briefcase on the floor as soon as I lock the door behind me. I make my way over to Elliott who stands as I walk toward him.

  “You are amazing,” I say, throwing my arms around his neck and giving him a peck on the cheek. “Why some woman hasn’t snatched you up already, I’ll never know.”

  He chuckles and pulls away quicker than he normally does. “Crazy woman,” he says. “Why do I need someone else when I have you?”

  “Sex?” I answer. “I’m going to go change real quick.”

  It’s not until I’m in my bedroom that I realize he never responded to my sex answer. That’s not really like him. If there’s one subject he can go on and on about, it’s sex. I tilt my head. Now that I think about it, outside of the oral sex chat we had before the dates, it’s been ages since he’s talked about sex.

  Probably because he’s getting so much of it from his plastic girls.

  But now that I think about it, I don’t think he’s seeing anyone. At least not anyone that he’s mentioned to me. And again that’s not typical.

  I’m not going to think about it anymore. Tonight we’re simply going to be two old friends spending some chill time over television and drinks. Whatever’s going on between Elliott and the women he dates is none of my business.

  * * *

  Halfway through the show, Elliott mutes the TV. Neither one of us is crazy about the band that’s going to play. I’m sprawled out on the couch with my feet in his lap because he confiscated my fuzzy socks while I was changing and I decided to be a brat and plopped my feet there. He eventually pulled the socks out and put them on my feet, but I never moved them.

  “So tell me why a hot catch like you is sitting on my couch on a Saturday night?” I wiggle my toes at him.

  “The hot date I had lined up supposedly had to go into work.” He grabs one of my wiggly toes to still it and begins to rub my foot.

  “Supposedly? You don’t believe her?” I’m trying to concentrate on the conversation, but damn his hands feel good.

  “I believe her. After all, the guy she’s dating lives out of town and she saw him last night. I didn’t have a chance to find someone else on such short notice.”

  My brain works itself out of the haze of pleasure his hands have expertly sent me into. “Dating? Is that what Tate and I are doing?”

  “Aren’t you?” he asks. “You aren’t dating anyone else and I don’t think he is either.”

  “That’s not because we’ve agreed to be exclusive or anything,” I tell him. I’m just a bit frazzled at the thought of being that serious with Tate after two dates. “I mean, he hasn’t even really kissed me.”

  That last part slips out. My plan had been to keep that detail to myself.

  “What?” Elliott’s eyes grow wide. “He hasn’t kissed you yet?”

  I pull my feet from his lap, embarrassed but I’m not sure why. “He said he wanted to take things slow.”

  “There’s taking thing slow and then there’s letting a good thing slip away because you’re a fucking idiot.”

  “I thought it was sort of sweet.” Or at least that’s what I tried to convince myself anyway.

  Elliott looks at me the way I envision he’d look at somebody who asked how many innings were in a basketball
game or how many touchdowns a baseball player made.

  “Darcy,” he says, using that let me explain how everything that just came out of your mouth is batshit crazy voice. “Sweet is bringing you flowers or picking up all the ingredients for and baking a cake to surprise you when you’ve had a bad day. Not kissing you after the second date is downright certifiable.”

  He sounds angry, and all I can picture now is him on the phone with Tate asking why the hell he hasn’t kissed me. And then Tate would know I’d told Elliott about it. Complained even.

  “Promise me you won’t call and bug Tate about it,” I plead with him.

  “Hell, no, I’m not bringing it up to him.” He’s definitely angry. “If he wants to fuck up the best thing he’s ever been given, it’s all on him. I’m not going to help him fix it. He can figure it out his own damn self.” He mumbles something under his breath, but the only words I can pick up are ‘kiss’ and ‘idiot.’

  “So tell me, you badass dating expert,” I say. “Do you kiss on the first date?”

  He raises an eyebrow and I’m pretty sure he’s going to tell me it doesn’t matter what he does, but instead he crooks a finger at me. “Come here.”

  Both of us are already sitting on the couch, so we’re fairly close to begin with, but to make him happy and keep him talking, I scoot toward him to where we’re almost touching. We both turn so we’re facing each other.

  “Usually, yes,” he says. He moves his arm closest to the couch to where it rests along the top and his fingers brush my shoulder. “But there are no hard and fast rules when it comes to the first kiss. It all depends on her.”

  As he talks, he slowly inches his fingers, barely touching me, but I’m hyperaware of where he is and what his fingers are doing. Need and arousal flood my body and at the same time, I’m confused as shit because this is Elliott and my body’s not supposed to be reacting this way to him.