by Adele Huxley
Contents
CoaSD - Book 1
From the Authors
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Thank you!
This book is work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book contains explicit material and is intended for readers 18 years or older.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademarked owners of any wordmarks mentioned in the following fiction.
Copyright © 2016 by Adele Huxley
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.
All requests should be forwarded to: [email protected]
Chronicles of a Serial Dater is a series of 7 short stories designed to keep you laughing all summer long, with a new release nearly every week. Mark your calendars with these dates!
Book 1 - July 13th
Book 2 - July 27th
Book 3 - August 3rd
Book 4 - August 10th
Book 5 - August 17th
Book 6 - August 24th
Book 7 - August 31st
Bonus online content will also be released with each addition, adding to the interactive fun! Be on the lookout for any chapter ending with this image:
Believe it for not, all the dates, conversations, and horror stories in this series are real. Readers just like you were kind enough to share their funniest and worst dates for our entertainment. At least something good came out of them! So if you’re reading these and at any point think, “Come on now, this is too ridiculous,” just remember…
The truth is always stranger than fiction, and nothing is stranger than online dating.
You can still get in on the fun! If you have a funny/bad/horrible date you’d like to share, or even some hilarious online conversations, email me at [email protected] with the subject “SUBMISSION”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Anette said, barely stifling a laugh.
I shot her a long-suffering look and grabbed a can of Diet Coke out of the fridge. “It was bad. Horrific, train wreck, body-parts-flung-from-the-wreckage kind of bad.”
I nudged Zach’s legs off the coffee table as I pushed by to take my seat on the sofa. I couldn’t help a sadistic smile when he moaned. “Hey, now. Just because you had a foul date doesn’t mean you have to…”
“He chomped.”
Both Anette and Zach exchanged glances, the pair of them now fully focused on the horror show that had become my date for the evening.
“I’m sorry... he what?” Anette giggled.
“Allow me to demonstrate. You’re me.” I turned towards Zach on the sofa, my knee wedged tightly against his body. “We were at his house, sitting this close, and started making out. Everything seemed fine. Then he does this move with his hand,” I explained as I slid my hand along the side of his jaw and into the shaggy hair at the back of his head. I looked to Anette and shrugged. “Hot, right?”
“Oh yeah, I’m all tingly over here,” she conceded, crossing her arms.
“And we kiss,” I added, leaning in for the full effect. Zach stiffened, probably afraid I would actually kiss him. “He pulls back, makes this bizarre face and chomps.” I open my mouth as wide as my date had and clack my teeth together with a violent CHOMP.
I pause for a second and then throw my hands in the air as if declaring victory in the I Swear I’m Not Making This Up competition. Shock washed over their faces as I allowed the scene to sink in.
“I still don’t understand,” Zach frowned.
“That face, right there! That’s the face I think I was making… the first time.”
Anette threw her ass down on the coffee table and stared at me incredulously. “Hold on. The first time? This nutjob did this more than once?”
“You let this nutjob do this more than once?” Zach added.
I smoothed my hair out with both hands and sighed. “I didn’t want to be mean. Maybe he has a tic, or Tourette's. At the very least, I hoped he’d had something stuck in his teeth he was trying to get out.”
“Because flossing with your face makes absolutely perfect sense. Yep.”
I rolled my eyes at her and continued retelling my night from hell. “But he kept doing it. And that’s when I realized the funny face he was making was supposed to be sexy. It was like he’d learned seduction techniques from a Looney Toons cartoon.”
Anette patted me comfortingly on the knee and returned to getting ready for work. “Well, at least you have the story to remember him by. You might have nightmares about denture-wearing zombies chasing you for the next few weeks, but whatever.”
“That wasn’t the worst part,” I intoned, unsure if I even wanted to reveal this section of my night. Maybe I should take it to the grave…
Zach shook his head and held up a hand. “Wait a second. Go back. Is this the guy Anette put you together with? The one from the gym?”
“Oh, what the fuck?” Anette yelped, throwing a pillow at him from across the room. “Why the hell would you think that I set her up with Captain Chomps-a-Lot, Zach? That’s just bullshit. I am seriously insulted. Like this much.” Anette held up her thumb and forefinger, spaced about a half an inch apart before flipping him off.
“No, this was the guy who asked me out when I was walking Pluto in the park. Ethan.” I shook my head, recalling the moment. Every cell in my body screamed at the memory, hoping I could somehow push back in time and prevent this whole horrible night from happening in the first place.
“So, what was the worst part, then?” Anette asked, looking at me through the mirror.
I sighed, realizing I was fully committed to reliving this story now. “He was actually a really good kisser, when he wasn’t threatening to bite my nose or lips off. And it’s been a while since I’ve…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zach interrupted. I laughed at his bashfulness. Whenever the topic of sex came up around the three of us, unless he was bragging about some conquest, it made him super uncomfortable.
“You know they say sex is like pizza, right? Even if it’s bad, it’s all right,” Anette offered as she applied eyeliner in the mirror. “Unless, of course, you put something like anchovies or pineapples on it. Because that is absolutely disgusting and makes me immediately judge your ability to make sound life decisions.”
“Exactly. So, he stops chomping and I quickly forgive and forget about aforementioned chomping. Things are heating up, it’s going well, and he says, ‘You looked so hot the other day when I came up to you.’ And I’m like, ‘Oh yeah, picking up dog poop is pretty sexy stuff,’ trying to joke with him. He leans back and looks at me like I’m some goddess he’s worshiped his whole life and says, ‘I know. It was amazing.’”
My best friends were speechless, which is saying something for the two of them, especially Anette. I waited a few beats to see if they’d cut in with any quips or comments before finishing my tale of woe.
“At this point, I’m done. Flat out done. I don’t care if his dick is flecked with gold and tastes like str
awberry cheesecake. And you both know how much I like cheesecake, but nope. I am done. I don’t even remember what I said to get away, but he immediately backpedals. He probably sensed I wasn’t as into the trip down memory lane as he apparently was.
“He’s like, ‘No! Wait, not the shit. No, not the shit! It was the gloves. I’m into gloves.’ And I’m there trying to get dressed as fast as possible, but even that gives me pause. Long story short, that’s how I discovered Ethan has a latex fetish, specifically rubber gloves. He even pulled out his whole collection from the closet to show me.”
“What in the ever-living hell?” Zach looked like he’d gone far beyond laughing and was firmly in horrified-ville. Which was good. I appreciated the company.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “I’m glad to at least share the burden of this knowledge with a few others in the world. I’m pretty sure I would’ve imploded if I’d had to carry that around by myself.”
I held the sweaty can of soda against my neck and groaned in relief. Our apartment was already stifling hot and it was barely June. The single box fan wedged in the window was basically blowing hot air in from the street. It was going to be a long, hot summer in Manhattan. We were too poor to afford an air conditioning unit, but it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been Zach’s apartment upstairs. His only window opened into the narrow alley between buildings. No light, no air, no relief. Which, aside from the stellar company, was why he hung out at our place so much.
“This dating shit sucks,” I whined.
“Oh, it’s not all that bad,” Anette shrugged as she pulled her top off to get changed. Spend more than a day with the woman and you were bound to see her naked. She’d apparently skipped the inhibition stage of development. To be honest, if I had her figure and complexion, I’d walk around naked all the time too. “What you really need to do is learn how to manage your expectations. That’ll fix everything.”
I took another sip, sputtering my response out. “Expectations? I expected to be engaged by now. I expected to be planning my parent’s thirtieth wedding anniversary next year. I think my expectations have pretty much been dashed against the rocks, don’t you?”
“Kevin dumping you like that was terrible, I give you that. But I know deep down you see it as a blessing in disguise. It’s great you aren’t moping all over the place, moaning about missing him, complaining that he was the love of your life, that he was the only one who would ever understand…”
“Anette!” Zach snapped.
She must’ve read something on my expression I hadn’t meant to show and quickly stopped. To be honest, she’d listed every single thing I wanted to say but knew I shouldn’t. Tripping down that rabbit hole wouldn’t lead anywhere nice.
“Okay, look. All I’m saying is you’re young, you’re gorgeous, you live in New York. In the grand scheme of life, the universe, and everything, there are worse things in the world, you know?”
I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them close. The evening and commiseration had left me feeling more hopeless than upbeat. “And how do any of those things benefit me, Anette? Seriously? My parents have been together through everything. Raising three kids, cancer, losing jobs, everything. Yet even they can’t hold it together.”
“You don’t know what happened with their marriage,” said Zach.
“You’re right, I don’t. All I know is my nearly eight-year relationship fell apart before graduation and my parents now hate each other. And now I get to figure out how to navigate a world filled with latex fetishes and face chompers. My life is officially as terrible as a B-Grade horror movie.”
Anette, looking as stunning as ever, circled the back of the sofa and hugged me from behind. “And I’ll be here to laugh at every single gory detail.”
During my commute the next morning, I couldn’t stop eying up all the men on the subway platform. Ethan had seemed perfectly normal, downright presentable. He hadn’t given off a creepy vibe or said anything that made my internal alarm bells go off. He looked like all these other men. Young, professional, aware of his clothing style and body language. Except for the chomping part, I thought with a half-laugh. And the thirty pairs of gloves.
I shrugged to myself, internally chastising my judgment. So he has a kink? Is that a crime? But the niggling worry remained as I people watched out of the corner of my eye. Lurking behind every pair of nice eyes and friendly smile, was there a freak just waiting to be released? Were there any normal guys out there, or was it a matter of finding someone who was freakish in the same way you were?
Pushed along with the rush of the crowd, I climbed up the stairs and immediately regretted spending so much time on makeup that morning. I’d woken up early with the thought of doing something nice for myself after the night before, but I’d sweat most of it off before I’d even reached my building. I dabbed under my eyes and around my forehead, positive my eyeliner had already turned me into a walking raccoon, or maybe the newest member of KISS. Ducking my head down, I walked the two blocks to my building, rode a thankfully empty elevator, and slid into my office.
Just as I was cleaning up the hot mess my face had become in the high humidity, Abi poked her head in.
“Don’t you think you should do that at home? You aren’t getting paid to put lipstick on a…”
“Good morning, Abi,” I said with a saccharine smile.
The frown lines in her young face deepened further. She leaned against the door frame, giving me a chance to really take in her outfit. Not that I’m some fashionista, but compared to Abi’s wardrobe, I was New York Fashion Week personified. Her look seemed to comprise of thrift store finds a size too small that had never been stylish in the first place. The mustard yellow polyester top dotted with purple hearts really brought out the faded blue in her thick corduroys. Her closet probably looked like a psychedelic rainbow suffered a bout of food poisoning inside. Magically delicious, indeed.
I’d never had a nemesis until I started working at the Greene Publishing Agency, so I was still trying to get my head around it. Abi, however, was fluent in sarcasm and passive aggression. For whatever reason, she’d had it out for me from the moment we met. At first, I tried to win her over with ridiculous amounts of kindness she didn’t deserve, but after Kevin dumped me, I stopped caring. If she wanted to fight to keep life interesting, so be it. It gave me a chance to release my own frustrations.
An odd thing happens when you decide to actively hate someone. Once you make your mind up, there’s nothing they can do to come back from it, short of saving your life. Every little thing they do becomes literally the most annoying thing in the world. Look at her, tearing little pieces off her sandwich like that. Just eat it! God, you’re so annoying! Oh, for crying out loud, look at her now, just breathing air like that. Who needs all that air? Quit hogging up all the damn air, woman! From the way she held a pen to the way her sour personality sweetened the moment Lisa came around, I found myself hating even the sight of her. The outfits didn’t help.
“Did you want something or were you just looking to pick a fight?” I asked without looking at her.
“A fight? No, of course not!” she replied with mock indignation. “I wanted to stop by and compliment your haircut, that’s all.”
I involuntarily touched my hair and frowned. “Thanks, but I haven’t gotten it cut.”
“Oh, so you washed it? I never get to see it clean, so it must’ve looked different from a distance. Up close, I can see my mistake.”
And that was how Abi liked to fight. Short, little jabs she could easily deny were meant to be insulting. She was a pro, Muhammad Ali dancing around the ring. I was a novice stumbling over my own feet, lacking tact and skill. Even so, I too land a few punches here and there.
I dropped my notebook on the desk with a loud thud and looked at her with hooded eyes. “That’s a lot coming from someone who obviously cuts her hair with a pair of hedge trimmers. Is one side supposed to be a different length or is your skull as misshapen as your face?�
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With a wry smile, she quickly countered. “I understand luxury items like haircuts and dentists are hard to understand, what with your rural upbringing and all. If we get some time later, I can try to explain it to you.”
“I grew up on Long Island,” I replied dully.
“Exactly.”
I snorted, hating how easily I’d walked into the set up. “I’ll give you credit where it’s due. Testing out your Halloween costume a full five months ahead of time is a bold choice, Abi. So what are you going for this year? Ooooh, no wait, let me guess. Are you The Hunchback of Notre Dame or The Elephant Man?”
I tried not to look too smug at my own wicked burn. The color rose in her cheeks and, so help me God, she almost looked turned on by the challenge. She straightened and puffed out her chest just as Lisa flew by the door in a flash.
“My office,” she called out without a hitch in her step.
Abi appeared torn. She didn’t know if she should go straight up Rottweiler on me or revert to a cozy lapdog with Lisa nearby. I stood, rounded my desk, but she refused to move from the door. With a few inch advantage even without my heels, I stared down my nose at her in mild amusement.
“You heard her. Office. Lisa doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Her mouth worked until she finally clamped her jaw shut with a clack. “You smell.” She spun on her heel and sped down the hall so she could reach the boss first, which was good for me. I needed a minute to recover my composure after laughing at her insult.
Have you ever watched The Devil Wears Prada? Then you have an idea of who Lisa Greene is. I’m pretty sure they based the boss off of her. Sleek gray hair, thick glasses, impeccably put together, and in such good shape you’d be hard pressed to pin an age to her. Oh, and did I mention absolutely terrifying? But she was one of the best and somehow I’d secured a position at her brand new firm before graduating. I had to practice keeping my wildly fluttering nerves in check every time she spoke directly to me.
