by Elle Casey
Dev makes his way around the bar. I meet him halfway. He speaks first, saving me the trouble of having to come up with something charming and witty, a feat I’m completely incapable of accomplishing at this point.
“I guess I know where you’re meeting your date now.”
My smile probably looks more like a grimace than anything else. Humiliation level: Eight out of ten. “I guess you do. Seems like we have the same taste in bars.”
He nods and looks around, over my shoulder and then out to the sides.
I check my watch. I’m exactly on time. “So, your date’s not here yet either?” I ask.
“I don’t think so. It’s hard to say for sure, because I never saw her picture.”
I shake my head at him. “Why didn’t you look? How are you going to find her if you don’t know what she looks like?”
He shrugs. “I just figured she’d find me.”
I nod, feeling awkward but glad for the conversation. Silence would be worse. “I guess that’s a good strategy. You’re kind of hard to miss.”
“Plus, it takes all the pressure off. She can look at me and decide without confronting me whether she actually wants to talk to me or not.”
“That’s very considerate of you.” I look more closely at him, narrowing my eyes a little bit. He doesn’t seem at all worried about being stood up. “How long are you planning on hanging around here to see if she shows up?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. A half hour?”
I nod because I can’t think of anything else to do, and scan the crowd again. Just then, the door opens, and a man with a blue shirt walks in. He’s definitely heavier than I expected him to be based on his profile, but he does have brown hair like the man in the picture. I wait to see what will happen. He appears to be searching for someone.
Dev gestures with his chin. “Maybe that’s your guy. I should probably go, give you your space.”
“Okay,” I say, not really paying attention to Dev anymore. I’m focused on this new guy, trying to figure out if he’s the one I saw in the picture. I don’t think he is, though. His nose is totally different. Would somebody Photoshop a different nose onto his face like that? I should’ve looked at that picture more closely. I should’ve printed it out. Dev warned me that people play games on those sites. Imagining this guy being my date, I could just picture myself holding the printout up at his face, pointing at it in anger, and yelling, “Explain yourself, sir!” Photoshopping dating site pictures should be outlawed and violators pelted with rotten eggs. I hate this. What am I even doing here?
“I’m going to go back over to the corner,” he says. “You give me a signal if you have any problems.”
Dev has all of my attention now. “What? Are you like my bodyguard?”
He seems confused. “No. Not unless you want me to be.”
Maybe I’m still hurting over the fact that he wanted us to go out with other people after breaking my bed. My response comes out crankier than I mean for it to. “I’m fine. I can handle myself. I have pepper spray.” I pat the side of my purse confidently.
“You should get a Taser, like your sister. I’ve learned from firsthand experience that it’s very effective.”
Before I can ask him for more details, he leaves me standing there. I’m alone next to the bar now, and the man with a fake nose who I thought might be my date walks over to join a group of friends and grabs a beer from one of them. They all laugh at something he says.
If he is my date, he can forget it. I didn’t sign up for a fake nose or a group gathering. My righteous indignation disappears a few moments later when a girl comes in the front door, walks over to the man, and gives him a hug and a kiss. Game over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I check my phone again; another fifteen minutes have gone by. I realize as I’m looking at the time that I’m not really interested in dating a guy who shows up fifteen minutes late to our first meeting. I respect other people’s time, so it’s only fair that they do the same for me.
Dev is busy looking at his own phone, so I don’t bother signaling him to let him know what I’m doing. I’m going to head over to the ladies’ room before leaving. My night is an official bust. I’ll just pee first, and then I’ll go home. I probably still have time to pop some popcorn and find a good chick flick to lose myself in. The night is still young, and so am I. Kind of.
I look in the bathroom mirror at myself and frown. What a shame that I got all dressed up for no reason. This dating thing sucks. I think when I was younger it was different. Times have changed and not for the better. These days, men blow girls off and Photoshop their faces, pretending to be someone they’re not. Jerks.
I leave the bathroom and come out into the tavern, scanning the crowd once more so I can at least locate Dev and say goodbye. But he’s not there. He’s gone. My heart gets a crack in it, and it’s not the good kind. He left without saying goodbye? And I thought my night couldn’t get any worse. Wrong again!
The sadness that I’m feeling right now is completely out of proportion to what’s happened. Dev is his own man and he was here to meet his own date. His leaving has nothing to do with me. I should be happy for him. Hell, maybe his girl showed up and they’re out in the parking lot making out in his car. Or maybe they really hit it off and they’re doing more than that.
I know I’m being ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I was only in the bathroom for five minutes, and I’m sad that he would take off without saying goodbye. It was actually kind of awesome seeing him here. It seems that I can’t get enough of this man.
I walk outside to my car, but when I get ten feet away from it I stop short. There’s somebody waiting for me. I have a momentary heart attack until I realize it’s a very tall man in a blue shirt. Dev. My heart soars like it has wings, like it has rocket boosters attached to the bottom of it and somebody has lit the fuse. I want to sing like Maria in The Sound of Music. The hills are aliiiive!
I try to bust out my sexy walk on my way over, but end up twisting my ankle in my stupid new shoes. Dev’s arms go out like he’s going to try to help me, but he’s still five feet away. I recover without actually busting my ass, thank all that is holy, and limp the rest of the way over. I pull my keys out of my purse to distract him from commenting on my very ungraceful entrance.
“I thought you left.” Dev says.
“I thought you left, too.”
We stare at each other as the sounds of the cicadas ring out around us, setting a rhythm to the night that is so uniquely New Orleans. “Are you here waiting for me?” I ask.
He shrugs. “When I thought you’d left, I figured I’d just go home. But then I got out here and saw your car, so I got concerned. I figured I’d wait for you a little while, and if you didn’t show up, I was going to launch a manhunt.”
I can’t help but smile. “A manhunt? That sounds serious.”
He nods slowly. “It is.”
I want to believe that there’s a lot more to his answer than just those two simple words he gave me, but before I can wonder about it too much longer, he pulls me away from my train of thought.
“Did your guy show up?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I guess that’s just the way it goes sometimes.” Now that I’m standing here with Dev, it really doesn’t seem like such a bad deal after all.
“Are you sure he wasn’t in there? There were a lot of guys who looked like they might be single.”
I shrug. “He told me he’d be wearing a blue shirt, and the only ones in there with blue shirts were you, a senior citizen, and one other guy, but he had a girl with him.”
Dev’s eyes go a little wide. “A blue shirt?”
I nod. “Yes, a blue shirt. That’s how I was supposed to identify him. And I put my picture on my profile, so he should’ve been able to find me easily. I didn’t Photoshop it, and I didn’t use one that’s ten years old, either.”
Dev smiles. Then he puts his fist on his forehead and tips his head back, laughing lik
e he’s at a comedy show. “Oh, God!” he moans, standing up straight again.
“What? Is this funny? Is me getting stood up that hilarious?”
“Oh my god,” he says, looking at me again, “no. It’s not that. I can’t believe this.”
I’m starting to get miffed, because I have no idea what he’s talking about. It feels like he’s laughing at me, though. I fold my arms across my chest. “What? What don’t you believe?”
His fist comes off his forehead and he grabs the front of his shirt and pulls it out at me. “I’m wearing a blue shirt.”
I shrug. “Yeah. So?”
He shakes his head. “I’m your date.”
I look at him like he’s crazy. I think all this dating stuff has caused him to drop a few marbles along the way. “What? No. You’re not my date. My date’s name is Brian something-or-other.” The site only gives first names, but that seemed like enough at the time.
“You picked the guy you said was my twin, didn’t you?”
Now I’m embarrassed all over again. He knows! He knows I’m crushing on him! I need to try to play this off. “What are you talking about?” Yes, this is my plan. I’m going to play stupid and see how far it gets me.
“You picked the guy, who you said was my twin, to go out with. That was me.” He points at his chest.
The picture he’s trying to paint for me is beginning to come in clearer. “What are you saying? Do you have two profiles on that website?”
Now it’s Dev’s turn to look embarrassed. “Yes,” he says reluctantly.
Now I’m not just confused, I’m also annoyed. “Why? Why would you do that?” I’m trying to figure out if he set this up as some elaborate trap to catch me looking like a fool. But as soon as that thought enters my mind, it leaves. No one is that clever, first of all, and second of all, he’s not mean like that.
He looks up at the night sky and then down at his feet. He’s rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes when he finally answers. “I might have been a little bit concerned that nobody would want to date a guy with no hair who’s so tall he looks like he should be in the circus.”
If he’d given me any other excuse, or maybe if I were a different person with fewer scars on my soul, I might be mad at him for the trickery; but my heart goes out to him. He always seems so confident and sure of himself, it never crossed my mind that he might be self-conscious about his condition.
I look him in the eye so he’ll see that I mean what I say. “That’s ridiculous. Why would anybody care about that?”
He lifts a non-brow at me. “Are you serious? Have you been out in the world lately?”
I let out a long sigh. He’s right. People are completely materialistic and focused on looks in our world. Hell, I looked at the photos on the website, and I picked a guy based not just on his personality but on how handsome his picture was.
“Where did you get that picture you put on the profile?” I ask.
“It’s a picture of my cousin. I got his permission, though, so I wasn’t being a total creep. I mean, I didn’t steal anyone’s identity.” He looks up at the stars in contemplation. “I may still actually be a creep, though, now that I think about it.” He turns his attention to me. “I’m really sorry I did that and that you got involved.” He tries to look cheery, but doesn’t quite pull it off. “You’re the first person who asked for a date, though, so there’s only one victim of my stupidity.”
“I don’t get it. Why the mystery? Why not just be yourself?”
He looks at the ground. “Call it a lack of self-confidence. That’s probably the most accurate way to describe my thought process.”
“How could a guy like you lack self-confidence? You’re tall, good-looking, charming, smart, a great dad . . . the whole package.”
His smile is so adorable it makes it hard for me to breathe.
“Did you forget to put in your contacts today?” he asks.
I shove him gently. “Stop. And you have a great sense of humor, too.”
He shrugs. “You see what you see, but believe me, most women don’t get the same impression when they look at me.”
I sigh. “Well, let me apologize on behalf of all women for those few dopes who are deaf, dumb, and blind. Believe me, they do not represent the majority.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
He kicks at the gravel, moving it around with his toe, and for the first time I can really see the vulnerability. It only makes him more attractive to me, knowing that he’s not full of himself, that he’s a humble, self-effacing person. I much prefer that type of man over a guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to women.
I stand there digesting everything that he’s told me. Here we are, two single people, both looking for love. We made a pact to find it with other people, but destiny brought us back together again. That can only mean one thing, and I’m not so dense that I’m going to ignore it this time.
“So where does this leave us?” I bite my lip after I ask the question to keep from blurting anything out that shouldn’t yet be said.
He reaches down and takes me by the hands. My purse drops to the ground at my feet, but I ignore it.
“I think this means that we should go out on a real date and see what happens.”
I try not to be too excited that he’s thinking the same thing I am. “It’s a risk, though. Hearts can be broken.”
He shrugs. “No guts, no glory. I’m up for it if you are.”
I bite my lip again. He’s so beautiful. So good inside. I don’t care that he put a false profile on a dating website. I get it. I mean, I really, really get it. I get feeling lonely, I get lacking confidence, I get being paranoid and worried that people won’t like you for who you are. After Miles left me, I had no hope that I would ever find somebody who would want to be with me again. How stupid would I be to walk away from this opportunity?
“Okay, I’m in.” I feel like I’m going to vomit, I’m so scared and happy at the same time.
Dev smiles and then that look comes over his face again. That beautiful, gorgeous dimple that I love so much caves in and turns him from a warrior into a teddy bear. A bald one. A big, bald, teddy bear of a man who makes me feel safe and happy and ready to take on the world.
“Well . . . we’ve already had dinner,” he says. “What would you do on a real date after dinner?”
I’m feeling sexy, so I risk the answer that’s in my heart. “I’d ask you if you want to go have a drink at my place.”
“Are your kids home?” he asks, getting a devilish look in his eye.
I pout. “I’m going to be a terrible mother and say, unfortunately, yes. They are. On a real date I probably would have made sure they’d be elsewhere. Sorry. I’m seriously out of practice.”
He scowls. “My son is home too.” He squeezes my hands and looks at me forlornly. “Too bad you’re such a classy lady.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “Why is that bad?”
“Because . . . if you were a little more on the wild side, I would tell you about how big my backseat is.”
I can’t help giggling.
“Why are you laughing?” He moves in closer and pulls me up against him, his hard body sending a shock of pleasure through me. The giggling stops immediately.
I look up at him, my eyes full of the heat building inside me. “Because. I’m really not all that classy.”
CHAPTER FORTY
I can’t stop giggling. My dress is bunched up around my waist, and we’re crammed into his backseat, trying to use it as our launching pad into this new thing we have going on, whatever it is. I’m not going to label it or wonder how long it’s going to last. I want to enjoy it while I can.
“I’m too damn tall,” he says, frustrated as he bangs his head on the back passenger window.
I pull him down to kiss me again. My lips are swollen from all the making out we’ve been doing. “You’re not too tall; you’re perfect.”
He grins and dives in. Our tongues tangle togeth
er and our mingled breath heats up our faces as we move to deepen the connection.
His hand is between my legs, his fingers stroking me over my panties, making me squirm with anticipation. Sweat drips off his forehead and lands on my neck as he looks down at the space between us. “What I wouldn’t give for a bed right now,” he growls.
“We could do this sitting up,” I suggest.
He stops everything he’s doing and stares down at me. “Really?”
I nod, biting my lip to keep from laughing. It’s not that this is funny; it’s just so much fun I want to laugh and get buck wild naked at the same time. I’ve never experienced anything like it. I’m in a parking lot, screwing a near stranger in a Pontiac, for God’s sake! Then it hits me: How poetic is my sex life right now? It’s literally being resurrected from the ashes inside a Phoenix. I can’t stop giggling.
Dev tries to get up, managing to not only give himself a few new bruises in the process but also to yank his headrest right off the top of his seat.
“Oh my god!” I squeal as he growls and throws it onto the floor in the front of the car.
“Get over here,” he says, as he sits down in the backseat, stretching his legs as best he can under the seat in front of him. His knees are against the back of it, and a bulge is standing up at his crotch, straining his zipper.
I’m on my knees next to him, staring at it. “Wow,” I say. I felt his package before when he was kind of on top of me, but I don’t think I fully appreciated how big it was then.
He looks down at it too, and then up at me. “I’m at your mercy.”
Smiling all evil-like, I reach down and undo his belt, button, and zipper, freeing him from the top of his boxers with careful maneuvering. “Holy shit,” I whisper. “You’re proportional.”
He leans his head back on the seat and sighs. “Are you trying to make me lose it before you even touch me?”
I reach up and slide a piece of hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. He turns his head to watch.
