I Have Never (A Laugh Out Loud Romantic Comedy)

by Camilla Isley

  “Okay.” I surrender the leash and the duffel bag.

  As we queue in front of the elevators, Indira leans in and whispers in my ear, “Smooth.”

  I scowl at her without replying.

  Outside the building, I pat Chevron goodbye and say to Richard, “See you at the bar.”

  As I watch the two of them go, a million scenarios start playing in my head at once. Richard kissing me goodnight in his damned sexy car, or even better, him inviting me in before he takes me home…

  My happy stream of fantasies is interrupted by my phone ringing, screen flashing with the ominous caller ID, Dolores Umbridge.

  I sigh and pick up. “Hello, Mom.”

  The others are still waiting, so I gesture for them to keep going and that I’ll meet them at the bar.

  “Blair.” My mother’s voice rattles out of the phone’s speakers. Already, from the single pronunciation tone of my name, I understand that she isn’t happy with me. “What is this I’ve heard about you being on your tube? Is it proper for a future mother? My friends at the country club say it’s a website with a questionable reputation.”

  “Mom, it’s YouTube, and I did an interview. There’s nothing questionable about it.”

  “An interview? So you got the editor position at Évoque? Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t wait to tell all my friends.”

  “No, Mom, I didn’t.” I stare at the sky, unsure what to say next. I’ve avoided talking to her since, well, since I was fired. My fuse for my mother has become shorter than ever and I don’t care whether she approves or disapproves how I live my life anymore. So I rat myself out. “Actually, Évoque fired me.”

  “Fired? You? And what do you do for money?”

  “I work at a different magazine.”

  “Which one? Is it better than Évoque?”

  I think for a second. “Yeah, ten thousand times better.”

  “Well, what’s it called?”

  “Inceptor Magazine.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Because it’s a new online publication.”

  “Online? Have you gone mad? What’s the publishing house, is it still Northwestern?”

  “No. There’s no publishing house, it’s just the magazine.”

  “But… but… I mean, what does Gerard think about it?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care. We broke up.”

  “Oh. Oh, goodness. What did you do?”

  “I did nothing.” Somebody help, please. I’m about to lose my temper big time. “He cheated on me.”

  “Ah, well, a man like him with an important job… I’m sure you can work through this crisis…”

  The fuse reaches the end and I explode. “Mom, are you even listening to me? Gerard was having an affair with his secretary. There’s nothing left to work on.”

  “So what? You’d rather be single? At your age?”

  “Yeah, definitely. Single is not a dirty word, and it’s better to be alone than to stay in a relationship because it looks better from the outside. I’m not you!”

  Without waiting for a reply, I hang up on the momster and turn my phone off.

  Arrrgh, that woman!

  She still has the power to drive me crazy. Well, at least after our cozy chat she won’t call me for another couple of months. Fine by me. I’m ready for a drink and to forget all about parental harassment.

  Seventeen

  Never Have I Ever

  The atmosphere inside the bar has the peculiar cheerfulness only Friday nights can bring along. The guys are outside, seated at a large table in the prettiest back patio ever. Enclosed between brick buildings, covered in green ivy, and with string lights dangling side-to-side, it’s modern and quaint at the same time.

  Indira waves me over and points at the chair next to her. When I sit down she says, “I’ve ordered you a margarita and some veggie tacos.” She pushes a glass and a plate my way.

  “Thanks.” I smile and take my reserved spot. “Mmm, these are delicious.” I devour a full taco before touching any alcohol. “I’m ordering another round.”

  As I turn to attract the attention of a server, I catch Richard’s eye instead. He’s standing on the threshold of the garden, looking at me. Actually, seems like he’s been standing there a while. Was he watching me the whole time? The hair on my nape immediately stands up. As he smiles and starts walking toward us, goose bumps rise all over my arms.

  Richard sits at the head of the table, one seat away from me. “What did I miss?”

  Indira replies, “Tacos and tequila.”

  The server who I was trying to call before arrives to take the table’s final orders. I ask for a salad and some other vegetarian tacos. Richard gets a beer and tacos as do most of the others.

  The few nights out with my old colleagues from Évoque don’t compare. Not with their calorie-counting remarks, bitchy competitiveness, and overpriced cocktails. Here, everyone’s mood is relaxed and cheerful. Hugo is being a clown, telling Tinder dates horror stories. Indira is giving everyone sass. And whenever Nico tries to start a serious political debate, we all boo him. The quietest is Saffron, who spends most of the night glued to her phone, giving the group sporadic updates on the number of likes, shares, and views the interview is getting.

  When it reaches two million views on YouTube, Richard bangs a fist on the table. “Who’s in for celebratory shots?” he shouts.

  There’s a general cheer of approval, and the boss leaves to fetch a server who reappears minutes later with three bottles of tequila and shot glasses.

  I’m trying not to get completely wasted, so I grab the least full glass and drink only for the main toast. Richard also goes back to beer after one shot. Zane and Hugo are not so shy and peruse the bottle multiple times.

  As the night progresses, my colleagues start to leave one by one, until there’s only Saffron, Indira, and the boss left. We move to a smaller table. Richard carrying his beer and Saffron salvaging the only remaining half-full bottle of tequila along with the shot glasses.

  The adrenaline of the day, the tequila, and Richard’s proximity make it too hard for me to talk. I let Indira and Saffron lead the conversation. As we listen to the other two, I occasionally catch the boss giving me furtive looks, and smiling. Is he eye-flirting?

  “Yo, guys,” Saffron says after a while, stretching in her chair like a cat. “I’m calling it a night.”

  “Me too,” Indira echoes.

  They both get up and look at us as if to say, “You coming?”

  Richard lifts his half-full glass. “Mind if I finish the beer before we go get Chevron?”

  “No, sure.” I get up to hug Saffron and Indira goodnight.

  The former pulls me into a tight embrace. “The boss likes you,” she whispers in my ear, and then she adds aloud, “See you Monday.”

  Richard nods, and we both watch Indira and Saffron slalom through the tables and disappear inside the main bar. And then we’re alone.

  There’s a moment of awkward silence until Richard asks, “Want something else to drink?”

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Pity, there’s half a bottle of good tequila left.” He chugs the last of his beer and takes the bottle in his hands. Then he turns toward me with a mischievous grin. “Still convinced you’d lose at that drinking game?”

  “Never have I ever? One-hundred percent.”

  Richard flashes me a challenging smile. “Want to give it a try?”

  The smile I give back is equally wicked. “Game on.”

  “What were the rules again?”

  “You say something daring you’ve never done, and if I have, I drink a shot and vice versa.”

  Richard grabs two clean shot glasses. “And how do we decide who loses?”

  “Whoever drinks the most shots?”

  His eyes sparkle as he fills the glasses. “Ladies first.”

  “Okay.” I wrinkle my nose.
“Never have I ever… cheated on someone.”

  Richard doesn’t move. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Actually, that’s no disappointment.” I smile. “Your turn.”

  “I have never…”

  “Say it properly. Never have I ever…”

  “That’s just a waste of words. I have never… thrown a bowl of spaghetti on somebody’s head.”

  “You’re using inside information. Not sure that’s fair.” I begrudgingly drink my shot.

  The boss refills the glass. “Your turn.”

  I realize Richard knows more about me than I do about him. It’ll take some guesswork to hit the right spots. “Never have I ever… gotten a tattoo.”

  He drinks. Mmm, interesting. Now I can’t stop wondering where the tattoo is. I scan his chest for a moment before catching his gaze. Richard gives me a knowing stare as if he knew I was hoping to X-ray through his shirt and see the ink.

  “I have never…” Richard pauses, “been arrested.”

  “You’re not playing fair.” The tequila burns my throat. This time I do the refill, keeping the shot glasses more than half empty. I’ve learned how to pace myself with alcohol.

  “Never have I ever”—I think for a second—“had someone slap me across the face.”

  Richard gives me a wicked smile and lifts the glass to his lips.

  “Ow. Deserved?”

  “Some of them.” He shrugs. “I have never… worn a jade dress.”

  “That’s not even something daring.”

  Richard raises a mischievous brow. “I wouldn’t call the dress you wore in LA not daring.”

  I blush and drink. “Never have I ever… attended boarding school.”

  “What’s daring about boarding school?”

  “You tell me.”

  With a naughty grin, he drinks. “I have never… woken up not knowing where I was.”

  I scowl and drink. This is too easy for him. “Never have I ever… punched someone.”

  The boss drinks.

  “Did they deserve it?”

  “Oh, yes. I have never…”

  Richard and I both guess the next three until the tequila in my system makes me bold enough to step up the game a notch. “Never have I ever… been left at the altar.”

  Heart pounding, I wait for his reaction. Richard gives me a long stare and lifts the glass to his lips.

  “So it’s true,” I say.

  “Wouldn’t have drunk otherwise.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “Easily, she changed her mind mid-ceremony. My turn.” Richard makes it clear that’s all I’m going to get of his backstory. “I have never…”

  After a few more rounds of the game, I’m about to reach the point of no return, so before I’m irredeemably drunk I surrender. “Okay, okay. You’ve made your point. I’ve become bad enough to lose at this stupid game. But if I drink another shot, we both know where it ends, and it’s not pretty. We should play a different game.”

  Richard flashes me a molten stare, and for a second I’m left breathless. “Truth or dare?”

  I don’t know why but the truth part seems scarier than the dare. So I say, “Dare.”

  “Don’t move.”

  I sit rigidly in my chair as Richard bends his head towards my neck until his mouth is barely an inch from my collarbone. He inhales. There’s no touching. Only the faint caress of Richard’s breath on my skin. But it’s enough to send a shiver down my spine.

  “Nice perfume,” he says, standing back up.

  Mouth dry, I ask, “Truth or dare?”

  “Dare.”

  “Show me your tattoo.”

  Richard undoes the top three buttons of his shirt, moving the fabric aside to expose his left collarbone where a small, black infinity symbol is tattooed on his skin. The little symbol stands out on his marble-like skin and it’s made of words. I lean in to read, getting a peek of his toned chest as an extra perk. I swallow, concentrating hard on the tiny words and not his pectorals. Depending on where one starts reading the writing says, “Love the life you live,” or “Live the life you love.”

  “Cool,” I say, leaning back, although not before inhaling Richard’s green forest scent.

  Richard buttons up his shirt and I’m left mourning the wonderful sight of his almost bare chest.

  “Truth or dare?” he asks.

  “Truth.”

  “Are you still in love with your ex?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Not sure I ever was, really. Truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “What about you? Carrying a torch for someone?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not even her?”

  Richard’s features harden. “I had enough time to move on.” I’m about to ask more when he cuts me short. “Truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “Tell me something true you’ve never told anyone.”

  Let’s see… “I don’t fold my bedsheets. I just crumple them up in a ball and store them at the back of a drawer.”

  Richard laughs. “Guess I should’ve been more specific and asked for something embarrassing.”

  “Poor linen management is embarrassing.” I smile. “Your pick.”

  “Truth.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Do you have a thing for my shoes?”

  “Ah.” He lowers his gaze to my feet and nods. “So you’ve noticed. Your turn.”

  “Truth.”

  “Ever thought of sleeping with your boss?”

  In vino veritas and all that jazz, I tell the truth, “Yes. Truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “Why did you sleep with Aurora Vanderbilt in LA?”

  “She was a safe choice.”

  I put a question mark on my face.

  “She’s the kind of person I could never fall for,” Richard explains.

  “And were you worried about… falling for someone else?”

  Richard ignores the question. “Isn’t it my turn to ask?”

  Still avoiding the topic, are we?

  I nod.

  “Truth or dare?” he demands.

  “Truth.”

  “Why did you come to my room that night?”

  I consider my answer for a few seconds, then I stare at him boldly and say, “I wanted to hit on you. Or have you hit on me.” To stop him from asking more, I press the game forward. “Truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “Why choose someone you don’t really like?”

  “No risk of getting hurt.”

  “Also no risk of getting happy. Is that why you always pretend you don’t care about anything or anyone? Because the last time you cared, it ended badly?”

  Richard looks down. “I guess, sometimes it just feels easier that way. Truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “The morning after, when you shut me out of your room, you were jealous.”

  It’s more of a statement than a question.

  I nod. “Truth or dare?”

  His eyes darken. “Dare.”

  I swallow and, never breaking eye contact, I speak two simple life-changing words. “Kiss me.”

  Slowly, deliberately, Richard closes the space between us. He cups my face and looks at me a moment longer before his lips are on mine and the world tilts upside-down. I lose myself in the kiss. It’s gentle at first, tentative, exploring. Then needier, hungry. I want it to never stop, but it does all too quickly.

  Richard nuzzles my neck, whispering, “Truth or dare?”

  “Dare.”

  “Stay at my place tonight.”

  Eighteen

  Never Sleep With Someone On The First Date

  Outside the bar, I feel dizzy. And it has nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the man walking by my side.

  “Want to take the short or long way home?” Richard asks. “Long one has a view.
”

  “Long way it is, I could use some fresh air.”

  Richard takes my hand and leads the way. The simple gesture makes me ridiculously giddy, especially when his thumb brushes against my palm making me shiver with the uncontrollable desire to feel those hands all over me.

  Halfway between the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges, we stop and lean against the railing to admire the view. Breathtaking.

  A pang of jealousy stabs me in the chest. “Is this where you take all your girls?”

  Oh, why did I open my stupid mouth? Blair Walker, shut up and don’t ruin the moment.

  “Actually, no. I usually come here alone.”

  “Do you?”

  “I enjoy the view.”

  “Yep.” I focus on the glittering lights reflected on the water. “Manhattan is irresistible when she’s wearing lights.”

  “I know someone else who’s irresistible.” Suddenly Richard’s voice is behind me, his lips brushing my ear.

  I turn to look at him and find myself imprisoned between the railing and his strong chest. The scent of his aftershave is intoxicating, and my hands move of their own accord up the crisp cotton of his shirt. After tracing his thumb around my earlobe with one hand, he moves the other under my chin and tilts my head up. Then we’re kissing again, his mouth on mine, gently parting my lips. My hands become frantic, my entire body prickling with anticipation.

  I pull away and say, “I think we should go home.”

  Richard leaves a trail of soft kisses down my neck. “Sorry for making us take the long road.” He grabs my hand, and we speed-walk through Brooklyn, leaving Manhattan and her lights behind.

  For the entire elevator ride to his loft, we make out like a pair of teenagers: bodies wrapped together, oblivious to anything else in the world. Completely lost in each other.

  When the doors ping open, we tumble out and laugh our way to Richard’s door. He gets the keys out of his pocket and lets us in.

  “Welcome back,” Richard whispers.

  “Why are we whispering?” I ask in an equally low voice.

  “Chevron might be asleep.”

  “Oh, right. Where is she?”

  I tiptoe into the living room to find Chevron sprawled on the couch—belly up, legs in the air. I brace my hands on the backrest, staring at her, but soon get distracted by Richard hugging me from behind and kissing my neck. Shivers spread down my shoulders and along my spine, making my toes curl. I turn around and press my lips onto Richard’s.