by Emma Hart
I sagged back on the sofa.
That was it.
Twenty-six was going to be the year I put myself out there and got a date at least once a month.
Or maybe once every two months.
Hopefully.
CHAPTER TWO – KINSLEY
rule two: book boyfriends are not real.
sadly.
One good thing about living alone was that nobody woke you up super early on your birthday, and nobody was there to cover your living room in an explosion of balloons that you would be popping for a week.
One bad thing about living alone was that your friends had absolutely no issue sending you a delivery of three large bouquets of flowers, five obnoxious helium-filled balloons, a teddy bear, and a box of chocolates before nine a.m.
Mostly because they didn’t have to wake up to it.
At least they didn’t send a sing-o-gram or whatever they were called. Holley had threatened it at some point, and the last thing I wanted was an acapella band outside my front door.
Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past them. Any of them.
It was the kind of shit they’d pull.
Luckily for them, the only florist in town didn’t deliver before nine in the morning, so they’d been saved from my night-owl wrath for another day.
I busied myself putting the flowers into vases. Apparently, I was the owner of six various vases that I couldn’t ever remember using. Hell, I wasn’t sure I even knew where they came from.
I definitely hadn’t bought more than one.
With the flowers carefully moved to their new homes, I set to finding them places around my little house to live. My house was actually my grandpa’s before he’d moved into his retirement community. He hadn’t wanted to sell it and all my money had gone into the bookstore, so he’d happily agreed to let me pay his miniscule mortgage and do whatever I wanted to the little two-bedroom house that I had so many wonderful memories in.
I was very lucky, very blessed, and very short on windowsill space.
I found places after doing some shifting around in my bedroom and the bathroom. My few windowsills were now much brighter than they had been this morning, and I found myself smiling at the burst of color that now decorated my house.
The balloons were a little jarring, but I’d long accepted that my friends were extra.
Which was ironic since they were all introverts.
Except maybe Saylor. She definitely toed the intro-extro-vert line.
I was most definitely on the introverted side—unless I was really drunk and rapping Kanye West. Despite what my friends would have everyone believe, it really was a rarity.
I put the chocolates in the fridge and turned on the coffee machine. I was awake now and while it was tempting to go and crawl back into bed, there were other things I could be doing with my time.
Like read.
But not the stupid book with the love triangle because I still wasn’t ready to finish it.
Fucking Alexandra and Will.
I added vanilla creamer to my coffee and took it out to the back porch. My yard was small but bright, thanks to my grandpa’s love of gardening that he’d passed down to me. I even had some tomato plants rambling up the fence at the side, and all three of them were now bearing large green fruits that were rapidly ripening. The blueberry bush at the bottom of the yard was also nearly ready, and I couldn’t wait for them to finish so I could take Grandpa a big bag of them.
Even though summer was almost over, color still exploded through the yard, and as the sun crept through the clouds and illuminated the flowers, I smiled.
It was quiet. Peaceful. The perfect place to wake up.
All I needed was a puppy. Or a cat. You had to walk a dog and that meant people would inevitably talk to you.
Hmm.
Maybe a rabbit would be more my speed.
I set my coffee cup on the wrought iron table that had been on the porch for as long as I could remember and pulled my phone from the pocket of my robe. After going to bed last night, I’d set a couple of things that I wanted to achieve this year and written them in my notes app, but the first one was screaming out at me:
Date regularly.
Which meant I needed to figure out exactly how to do that.
The problem was that I wasn’t the most confident person in the world. I’d seen Tori and even Saylor chat up a guy at the bar like they’d known them their entire lives, whereas I tended to screw it up with any guy who even thought to speak to me.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever approached a man in my life.
Maybe dating websites were the answer. The very thought of that made me shiver, but there wasn’t a massive dating pool in White Peak, and most of the eligible guys I already knew and had ruled out for various reasons.
Yes, look, I was a dating snob. I’d come to that conclusion last night while I’d been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to kid myself that I’d fall asleep in the next few minutes.
I was a dating snob.
My standards were high—maybe too high—but I was not going to settle for anything less than what I wanted in a husband.
That’s right. I wasn’t shooting for casual dating. I was shooting for a husband.
Why would I date someone I didn’t think I would marry? That was nothing more than a waste of my time, and I had a lot of other things I could be doing in that time.
Like reading books.
It wasn’t my fault that books were better than boys.
I opened the app store and typed in ‘dating apps.’ I could already feel the regret as it coiled in the pit of my stomach and dug itself a little nest down there.
Really, that should have been enough of a warning sign not to hit the download button on three different apps, but here I was.
Downloading them.
The first one to download, Stupid Cupid, was the first app I opened. A screen appeared that told me how it was founded in New Orleans by Chloe and Dominic Austin and was a sister company to hookup website Pick-A-Dick, run by Peyton Sloane, Dominic’s sister.
Well, if all else failed, at least there was someone out there who could probably get me laid on a regular basis.
After that, it prompted me to sign up and create a username. I went for BookwormKinsley and, after a moment of surprise when it was available, set a password and completed my registration.
I spent the next half an hour setting up my profiles on Stupid Cupid, e-Matched, and Tap That. Thankfully, I got the same username on all three apps, which meant there was less of a chance I’d forget my login details when I switched to my laptop.
The only problem was that I had absolutely no idea what to do now. My profile was pretty bare, and I sipped my coffee as I considered how best to sell myself.
Perpetually awkward bookworm with unlimited access to books and questionable White Peak magnets. Likes coffee, gardening, and judging fictional people for their bad decisions.
I don’t know. I’d totally date me based on that description.
I thought I sounded pretty good, to be honest. It showed I was low maintenance, a little outdoorsy, and able to admit my flaws.
I didn’t see an issue with any of it.
Then again, I wasn’t the one looking to date me, so…
I screenshotted one of the profiles and sent it in my group chat with Holley and Saylor.
ME: What do you think?
Saylor responded, quickly followed by Holley.
SAYLOR: HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYY!!!!!!!
SAYLOR: It’s the worst dating profile I’ve ever seen.
HOLLEY: HAPPY BIRTHDAY *party emoji*
HOLLEY: I have to agree w Say, it’s awful.
I grimaced.
ME: Thanks. Happy birthday to me.
HOLLEY: I mean, you can’t see your face, Kins. Why is it hidden by a book?
ME: I’m trying to be mysterious.
SAYLOR: So dress up as a psychic at the fall fair, don’t hide your face on a dating app. How is a gu
y supposed to know if he’s attracted to a gardening-loving bookworm if he can’t see her face?
ME: Surely he should be attracted to my personality.
HOLLEY: Oh, sweet summer child.
SAYLOR: That’s not how the internet works.
ME: The internet sucks.
SAYLOR: It does.
HOLLEY: Alas, it’s all we have in this town.
ME: Stop tag teaming your texts to me. I know you’re standing right next to each other.
Sure enough, my phone rang seconds later with Saylor’s name flashing up on screen.
“What?” I answered.
“Sorry,” Holley said down the line. “Why don’t we meet for lunch and we’ll see if we can tidy it up for you?”
“That depends. Are you buying it? And where are we going? Colton said we’re all going to Bronco’s tonight, so I don’t want to eat there twice.”
“Why don’t we get sandwiches and walk up the trail a bit? We can shut the store for an hour. Dartree Mountain has that half-marathon thing on today and by the sounds of it, everyone is heading that way.” Saylor coughed. “So it won’t be busy on the trail.”
I thought about it for a moment. “All right. I’ll come to the store around midday and we’ll go.”
“Sounds good.”
“Also, this morning’s delivery wasn’t obnoxious at all.”
I swore I could hear their grins through the phone.
“You’re welcome,” Holley sang to the tune of the Moana song. She hung up before I could respond.
I shook my head and set my phone down, reaching for my coffee cup to finish my coffee.
Good. Midday.
That meant I could take a shower, dry my hair, and read a few chapters of my book.
Bingo.
***
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Kinsleeeeyyyyy, happy birthday to yoooouuuuuu!”
My cheeks flamed furiously as all my friends sang at the tops of their voices. The cake that was placed in front of me by Jasmine, Ivy and Holley’s mom, was absolutely divine. It was shaped like an open book; the cover was a dark brown, leather-look spine, and the pages were all intricately shaped to look like well-loved, well-thumbed pages.
And on the right page was a copy of the first page of Pride and Prejudice, one of my all-time favorite novels.
All right, the twenty-six candles somewhat ruined the ambience, and the sparklers were definitely on the extra side of a birthday cake, but I still couldn’t help but enjoy the overall effect.
Not to mention that they’d clearly thought through the cake. I was more of a run into the local grocery store and grab whatever’s left at the last-minute kind of cake buyer.
I obliged by blowing out all the candles. It took me two breaths, but that was because they were idiots who put twenty-six freaking candles on the cake. The table threw up a cheer, and I blushed when my brother wrapped his arm around me and hugged me.
“I didn’t think you’d blow them out,” Holley admitted.
Saylor sat back with a grin and held out her hand.
“Do you two just make a living betting on crap I do or don’t do?” I questioned, watching as Kai got up to cut the cake.
“Pretty much,” Saylor answered.
Ivy shook her head, rubbing her hand on the top of her rounded bump. “They’ve got at least two hundred dollars on when I’ll go into labor and how much she’ll weigh.”
Now that I knew.
“Yeah,” Tori said, flicking her newly lightened brown hair over her shoulder. “But that’s a pool, so it doesn’t count. We’ve all got about twenty bucks or so in on it.”
My pregnant friend rolled her eyes so hard, the baby probably did it, too.
“Hey, why aren’t I in on this?” Josh, my brother’s best friend, leaned forward on the table and looked at Holley and Saylor. “You know you can’t run a betting pool without me.”
“You always win,” I pointed out. “So that’s exactly why you aren’t in on it.”
Everyone nodded.
“We’re sick of giving you our money,” Kai agreed, handing me the first slice of cake with a wink. The second went to Ivy.
Josh protested. “It’s not my fault I’m lucky. Come on, let me bet on it.”
“Absolutely not,” Holley said resolutely. “You can fuck off.”
I hid a laugh behind my hand. I also knew that they’d deliberately kept it secret from Josh because, somehow, someway, he would win.
We didn’t know how he did it. I’d long suspected he used a psychic, but that was probably the result of too many paranormal books as opposed to a genuine suggestion.
He really was just that lucky.
I ate my way through my chunk of cake as they continued bickering about Josh being able to join the betting pool or not. Since it was like five on one, I didn’t think he was going to win, but it was definitely interesting watching him fight tooth and nail for his right to be a part of the group.
“We’re going to go,” Ivy said, reaching over the table and squeezing my hand. “I’m getting tired.”
I got up when she did and hugged her, careful to go to the side to avoid her bump. “Thank you for coming to hang out.”
“Of course.” She hugged me back. “Text me and tell me if Josh ever gets to join.”
I laughed and returned Kai’s hug. “Straight away.”
“Bye.” Kai grinned and wrapped his arm around her, guiding her out of the bar.
I slipped back into my seat and looked at Josh. “They’re never going to let you join, so just quit it.”
“Thank you,” Holley said. “Has anyone messaged you yet?”
I wrinkled my nose up.
“Messaged where?” Colton asked. “You didn’t put yourself on Craigslist for your birthday, did you?”
I smacked his arm. “No. I joined three dating sites.”
He snorted his beer. “You’re kidding, right?”
Josh’s eyebrows shot up. “You joined dating sites? What are you going to do with those?”
I glared at them both. “Go on dates?”
“No,” my brother said. “You’re not.”
It was nice to know he had faith in me.
Saylor took my phone from me and opened the Stupid Cupid app. “Three messages. Impressive, since we didn’t actually get around to cleaning up your mess of a profile.”
I glared at her, too. “Obviously, it’s not that bad.”
“Meh.” She opened the messages and clicked on the first one. “Not bad. He’s twenty-seven, an engineer, and lives in Talbot Ridge. That’s, what? Twenty minutes away? Thirty in traffic?”
“There is no traffic near Talbot Ridge,” Tori said. “Nobody goes to Talbot Ridge.”
“Well, it’s deeper into the mountains than we are and they’re pretty much cut off for at least three months a year, so…” I trailed off. “I don’t know. What does he look like?”
Saylor tilted the phone, and we all looked.
“He’s pretty hot,” Holley said. “Nearby, the right age, and obviously educated. Do you think he works at that big plant on the other side of Dartree Mountain?”
“I don’t know where else an engineer would work,” Colton said dryly. “Why am I looking at guys who think my sister is hot?”
“Because you’re lame and don’t have a life,” Tori answered. “Saylor, look at the next one.”
This time, Say put my phone flat down on the table for us all to look. “Okay, next up is Clive from Dartree Mountain. He’s twenty-nine, a divorce lawyer, and likes reading.”
“I should hope so if he’s a lawyer,” Holley said. “I almost considered law before I saw how much reading that required.”
“Yes,” I replied slowly. “And I’m sure library sciences required absolutely none at all.”
“Eh.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I like libraries. Not a big fan of criminals. It was an easy decision.”
Josh frowned at her before turning back to
the phone. “He looks like a dick. Who else messaged?”
“Why does he look like a dick?” Tori asked.
“Just does.” Colton leaned over and clicked off the message. “They all look like dicks.”
“You’re no longer allowed to be part of the conversation.”
I took my phone back and locked it. “None of you are allowed to be a part of the conversation anymore.”
Saylor rolled her eyes. “Great. Nice one, Colt. Now she’s never going to get a date.”
Great. Nobody had any faith in me.
Considering I was also one of those people, I’d hoped maybe one of my friends thought I might have a little success.
Clearly, I needed new friends.
“Let’s get more drinks!” Holley slid out of the booth. “Say?”
“Sounds good.” Saylor followed and looked back. “Anyone else?”
I held up my half-full glass of wine in answer, and Josh did the same with his beer.
“Tori?”
“I was going to take a look at the karaoke. Can you get me another margarita?” Tori pushed Colt out of the way so she could get up. “Move, asshole.”
Colt got up and said, “Grab me another beer. I’m going to look at the book.”
“Why? We all know you’re going to sing Bohemian Rhapsody,” I said. “Every single time.”
“Holley, get some shots. I want her rapping Kanye by the end of the night.”
I shook my head as they dispersed to various areas of the bar. I was not in a Kanye mood tonight, and not even a tray of tequila shots was going to get me up and rapping Gold Digger like my life depended on it.
“So your goal this year is to date more.” Josh sipped his beer
I met his dark green gaze. “I figure it can’t hurt. It’s not like there’s a whole bunch of people in town to date, so I thought I’d try online.”
“That and you’re terrible at dating.”
