Truth or Date

by Susan Hatler

  “I got enough of him the first time.” Ethan’s tone was flat. “Did you tell him you’d be here?”

  “No, of course not.” My face burned and had to be bright red even though this wasn’t my fault. “I heard he was coming here with a friend though. I called you several times but you didn’t pick up.”

  “You did?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. “Ah, I put my phone on mute for a meeting, then forgot to take put the ringer back on. Sorry about that.”

  “No worries.” Feeling awkward, I ducked behind a menu and rolled my eyes to the ceiling cursing The Boat House for announcing their fabulous band on the radio. “Here comes our waitress. Let’s order.”

  After the server left with our dinner selections, conversation was a bit stilted. As if he felt as uncomfortable with Chris being here as I did. This wasn’t fair to Ethan, but it’s not like I wanted Chris to show up here. I mean, what control did I have over where Chris chose to eat lunch and dinner? That’d be none.

  Finally, I asked about the fall of the Roman empire. Desperate times called for desperate topics. It perked Ethan’s mood considerably even though the Italian history rehash made me want to take a siesta. As we ate our salads, I had the strong urge to look out the window for Chris and had to force myself not to. Finally, I excused myself to the bathroom. I needed to get a grip before I completely ruined my chance with Ethan.

  Once I’d fanned myself in front of the mirror, reapplied my lipstick, and calmed my heartbeat down to a dull trot, I headed back out.

  Chris stood outside, waiting for me.

  ****

  “I can’t believe you’re cheating on me.” Chris folded his arms over his chest.

  “I, uh . . .” Was he serious? Because he actually looked kind of serious. “For real?”

  His gorgeous blue eyes squinted. “What can you possibly see in that guy?”

  I bit my bottom lip. Did he really want to know? “He’s nice. Successful. Attractive.”

  His brows quirked together. “And I’m not?”

  “No, you totally are.” My cheeks flushed at how quickly I’d said that.

  “Why then?” He shook his head, reached for my shoulders and bent down so his eyes were level with mine. “When I’d do anything for you.”

  My stomach fell to the floor. I mean, the way he’d said anything took my mind to all kinds of places and I really wanted to get that promise in writing. The air stilled between us as we searched each other’s eyes until, finally, I pressed my palms to his very solid chest. “Honey, it meant nothing to me and will never happen again.”

  He gave me a suspicious side-glance. “How do I know that?”

  “Guess you’ll just have to trust me.” My fingers brushed his cheek and his icy blue eyes simmered. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  When I turned to go, he held my arm, his eyes darkening. “You look gorgeous, by the way. As always.”

  Warmth flooded through me. “Thanks.”

  His eyes trailed over me one last time. “Since you’re already here, let’s meet out front at eight instead of your place.”

  Before I had a chance to respond, he backed away and disappeared into the men’s room. I grabbed the wall as I swayed a little. Even though we were role playing, the exchange frazzled my nerves as if we were a couple who’d had our first fight and then made up. Intense would be a good word for the whirlwind that just happened between us.

  Not wanting Chris to find me standing here when he came out, I inhaled deeply then headed back to my date.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Saying goodnight to Ethan had been all kinds of awkward since he wanted to walk me to my car, but I wasn’t going to the car because my next date was already here, on the back deck and, oh yeah, Ethan didn’t like him. Finally, I made up an excuse about needing to use the restroom (again), gave him a brief hug (man, those muscles were firm), and assured him that he didn’t need to wait for me. It had to be one of the oddest departures in history.

  After touching up my lipstick and fluffing my hair in the ladies room, I slipped out onto the back deck where the band’s music pulsed through me in a vibrating hum. Man, the radio was right. They were good.

  Chris and John sat at a table near the railing and were just paying their bill.

  I adjusted the purse handle on my shoulder. “Hi, guys.”

  “Hi.” Chris finished signing his bill then gestured between John and me. “You remember Gina from last night.”

  John gaped in a way that said he barely recognized me from last night. Definitely had to thank Rach for her fashion advice.

  The three of us headed out of the restaurant together then strolled down the sidewalk passing old-fashioned buildings housing various restaurants, a candy shop, toy store, comedy club, and more. I loved the charm of Old Sac. It made me all warm and gooey inside. We made small talk along the way . . . well, mostly John did the talking. Chris was actually acting kind of aloof . . . a first for him.

  “This is where we’re meeting everyone.” John stopped in front of a brick building with wooden doors painted green and white around the small window panes. “O’Malley’s.”

  Recognizing the Irish pub, my smile spread wide and I turned to Chris. “Isn’t this the place we all came after the company picnic last year? That was such a blast.”

  Despite my excitement over the fun memory, he merely nodded without meeting my eyes and held open the door for John and me to go through first. I bit my lip and frowned, wondering what was up with Chris’s odd behavior.

  “There they are.” John led the way, waving to a guy and two girls who swiveled toward us in their high back bar stools. “Hey, Bill, Wanda, Tina.”

  My shoulders tensed as Chris and I approached the table and Ms. H.R.’s long legs—one crossed over the other— came into view. Could her skirt be any shorter? Yeah, we were out of the office, but still.

  Bill waved immediately. “Pull up a chair.”

  We ordered some beers, then joined them at the table. Not surprisingly, Ms. H.R. invited Chris to sit next to her. Whatever. He was barely talking to me anyway. Not sure what I did, but John sat on the other side of me and seemed friendly enough.

  It turned out John and I both went to school at Sac State and we exchanged stories about a couple of mutual professors we’d had in general studies. He majored in Sociology, having no idea what he wanted to do, and somehow ended up in software sales. I laughed at his tales of changing multiple careers after grad since I’d been interested in accounting practically since birth.

  A couple hours later, Wanda started yawning and suggested we call it a night. Outside the entrance we parted ways with the others, leaving Chris and me alone.

  ****

  We ambled down the sidewalk, passing the first block without talking until I decided to break the silence. “I liked getting to know everyone.” Well, with the exception of Ms. H.R. who clearly had the hots for my pretend boyfriend and wore skirts that should be rated R. “You’re gonna be working with some great people so that should put you at ease that the change will go smoothly. Did you have a good time?”

  He shrugged. “Good enough.”

  I didn’t want to press into his private business, even as his pretend girlfriend, but I’d never seen him so quiet before. “Something’s clearly bothering you. Did you get a hate text at dinner or something?”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up. “A what?”

  “Bad news. I don’t know.” Seeing him smile a bit felt refreshing and as we passed a bar I’d never been to I suddenly had an idea. “Want to get another drink?”

  “You mean now?”

  “Come on.” Being brave, I laced my arm through his. “My treat, honey.”

  Both corners of his mouth turned up now. “In that case . . . ”

  We exchanged a smile as Chris held the door open for me, then we got drinks at the bar and took them to a round green vinyl booth in the back corner. Not too many people in here—an older couple facing each other on
bar stools, a young guy by the front window drinking alone and texting on his phone, and a few guys at a table with their eyes glued to some sports replay on TV—but not completely dead for a Thursday.

  I glanced around and spotted an actual jukebox on the back wall—no joke—and I made Chris get some change from the bar while I eyed the songs. No songs were going right now so we controlled the playlist. Sweet.

  The jukebox, it turns out, had a wide selection of music—current and old. I pressed my lips together. “Hmm. . . What’re we feeling?”

  “Something upbeat. I’ll pick.” Wearing a smirk, he bumped his hip against mine, moving me aside so he could make the selection. I gasped. Oh, no way. I shoved my shoulder into his arm (since he was a bit taller than me), inching myself in front of the glass to view the options and the battle over the buttons began. The back and forth nudging didn’t last long, but I found myself breathless from the feel of Chris rubbing against me. We’d never done that in the office.

  I won—though I’m guessing he let me, because he’s like six feet and in shape and I’m five-six and, well, not. I quickly chose an album by The Fray. Seconds later, the slow and steady piano notes of Never Say Never rang out and I slid back into our rounded booth ahead of him, a victorious smile plastered across my face. “Thanks for letting me decide, honey. You rock my world.”

  “Letting? You have a strangely broad definition of that word.” Scooching in beside me, Chris brought the brown bottle to his lips, taking a swig of beer as we listened to the heartfelt lyrics. “This song is depressing. How can you stand it?”

  Under the table, I bounced my knee into his in protest. “It’s romantic.”

  He listened to a few more lines, set his bottle on the table, then scoffed. “See? Depressing. They’re fighting.”

  “So?” I enjoyed the angst and agony in the singer’s voice. All the tension building up meant an increased ah-factor when they got back together in the end. “The song finishes on a happy note with them working things out. It’s a great choice. Thanks for agreeing with me.”

  “I see you have a broad definition for the word agreeing as well.” Spinning the bottle between his palms, he shook his head. “Relationships shouldn’t be that difficult.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “How would you know?”

  Ooops, had I said that aloud?

  A perplexed look crossed his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to answer. We’d just gotten our light banter back and I didn’t want to lose it. After all, his last day at work was tomorrow and I didn’t want us to part on a bad note. But, then again, he had asked (and I’d had several beers at the pub prior to this) so it suddenly seemed like a good idea to say what I thought. “It’s just. . . You date around. A lot.”

  Instead of being bothered or insulted, his eyes danced. “You’ve been paying attention to who I date? That’s cute, sweetie.”

  My cheeks heated and I tried to play it off by taking a sip of my Midori Sour but it only made him laugh harder. I shook my head. “I wasn’t paying specific attention or anything. It’s pretty obvious to everyone in the office that you hop from date to date. I mean, you never bring the same girl to a company event twice.”

  He raised his brows, finished off his beer, then patted the table as he pushed to his feet. “You want another?”

  “Sure.” If I kept putting my foot in my mouth, maybe it would dull the embarrassment. So he dated a lot. Why was I making a big deal about it? I rolled my eyes at my unintended jealousy, downed the rest of my bright green drink, then bit the cherry off its stem. The sweet maraschino flavor burst in my mouth as I chewed on the squooshy artificially-preserved fruit.

  Glancing over at Chris as he leaned against the bar, I decided, had been a bad idea. Warmth flooded through me and I stared long enough to notice how his back tapered down to a narrow waist above very snugly fit slacks. Lucky pants. Wait, was I seriously checking Chris out right now?

  I tore my eyes away, thrust the cherry stem between my teeth, and tried to work the ends over each other to distract myself from the very real urge I had to wrap my arms around his waist. Maybe these weird feelings were because his last day was coming. In fact, this could be the last time we hang. Ever. A pang jolted through me.

  While I threw myself deep into stem-in-a-knot mode, he returned setting a glass, filled with my deliciously green drink, in front of me. “What were we talking about?”

  “The weather.” I removed the knotted stem and adjusted the soft white strap on my shoulder. “How nice the weather is for December in northern California.”

  “Right.” He took a sip of beer, leaned back in the booth, then turned his baby blues toward me. “You’re a fairly amusing girlfriend. You know that?”

  Tingles shot down my neck and over my shoulders. “So we are still together. The way you ignored me over drinks earlier, I suspected I’d been dumped.”

  He picked at the label on his bottle. “John seemed to be keeping you pretty entertained.”

  I frowned. “Yes, but he’s not who I planned to spend time with tonight.”

  His arms spread out across the booth, his hand bumping up against my shoulder. “It appeared you spent time with quite a few people tonight.”

  Ouch. Maybe that’s why he’d been acting cold. Ethan. “I thought we resolved that outside the bathroom,” I joked.

  With an unreadable expression, he stared at the ripped up pieces of paper on the table then lifted his lashes. “You like him?”

  “Come on, Chris.” I squirmed in my seat. I’d looked forward to playing girlfriend/boyfriend with him all day. Actually, to be honest, probably since last night when he asked me to come with him. And this was probably our last night together. Why did he have to ruin it by asking questions I didn’t know the answers to? Why couldn’t we just forget Ethan and work and making sure I fell for a guy who could commit? So much pressure. I’d rather relax and have a good time with Chris. Gaze into his hypnotic blue eyes. . . .

  Leaning forward, he nudged my arm with his wrist. “Answer me.”

  I shook my head, then sucked down Midori through a tiny red straw. I kept my voice light. “I already promised never to cheat again. What more do you want?”

  Oh, he would chill out and play this game with me even if I had to coax him into it.

  He studied me a moment, then slid toward me so that our thighs were flush against each other. He slipped his arm behind my shoulders so he practically cradled me. “Truth or Dare?”

  Wrong game. And was it hot in here?

  I breathed in the scent of his spicy cologne, then gulped. “I started Truth or Dare so you can’t take a turn until I ask you something. Sorry, those are the rules and we always follow the rules.”

  He leaned closer. So close that our mouths were almost touching, the scent of pale ale blurring my senses. “You played your turn last night.”

  I swallowed, wondering if he realized how close he’d gotten. He had to realize it. Right? Not that I wanted him to move . . . “You’re bluffing. I don’t remember that.”

  He brushed a curl away from my face, his fingers skimming my jaw and shooting tingles down my neck. “You asked me about the girl who broke my heart at work.”

  Oh, right. Her. I bit my lip. “I did.”

  “Finally, you’re remembering.” His baby blues flashed and it amazed me how much they stood out even in the dim lighting. “So . . . tell me the truth.”

  The man’s voice on the jukebox kept wailing I’m in over my head, over my head, as if he were crying out the words solely for me. “You know I never choose Truth.”

  He tilted his head down and lowered his lashes. “I’ll bet I can make you.”

  I sucked in a breath, my eyes dropped to his mouth. “Not possible.”

  He paused, mere centimeters away from me, and it was like the world stopped. “Truth or Kiss?”

  My belly fluttered immediately, but even in my emotional haze I knew a kiss woul
d be a colossal mistake—so I grabbed onto a lifeline. “Second rule in Truth or Dare . . . no bodily contact with someone else.”

  “Exactly.” Chris smiled, his other hand dropped to my waist, and his fingers curled against me. “Someone else. No rule against bodily contact with each other.”

  A freaking loophole. Why did I have the feeling he’d been waiting to play that card?

  “What’s it going to be, Gina?” His eyes searched mine. “Truth or Kiss?”

  Although both words echoed in my head, there wasn’t a choice. I couldn’t back down, wouldn’t back down, didn’t want to back down. Tingles danced in my belly. “Like I said, I never choose Truth . . .”

  Blame the Midoris, blame the sappy music, but my vow went wayside. As soon as I made a slight move forward, his lips captured mine. Soft. Warm. Amazing. A completeness I’d never known washed through me as our mouths held each other.

  Energy pulsed between us, then burst throughout my entire body. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognized this was wrong, that I should pull away, but it was like an invisible rope pulled me to him and I felt helpless against it.

  Connecting with Chris on this level felt exhilarating and overwhelming at the same time. His hand threaded through the back of my hair, then his lips parted and his tongue brushed against mine. Oh, wow. Wow. Electric darts jolted through me and my heart pounded wildly. Completely lost in him, I swayed and had to grab the table with my other hand to keep steady.

  Chris Bradley was kissing me. Drinking me in as if he couldn’t get enough. The feeling was mutual and each taste of him set every nerve in my body on alert. Why had I waited so long to do this? Wait . . . why had I waited so long?

  Oh, right. George. Commitment. My pattern of picking guys who wanted nothing to do with it. . . .

  Realizing I’d done exactly what had screwed me over the first time, I pulled away abruptly, shocking him and myself as well. The sudden emptiness felt like a cold rush between us and left my chest hollow.

  We stared at each other as both of us fought to catch our breath.

  I really, seriously, needed to start picking Truth.