It takes me awhile, but I’m able to give him the entire five-and-dime version of “Blow-Job-Gate 2014” (otherwise known as “The Incident That Ended Our Friendship”) before the waitress comes and sets down our entrees. I must admit to feeling somewhat mollified – and vindicated - by the reaction I’m receiving from my date.
“Wait - he said all that shit? To. Your. Face?!”
I nod, taking a sip of wine.
“No way. Nuh uh.”
“Yup.” I take another sip, chuckling as my lips hit the rim of the glass.
“To your face.”
“Yes.”
“Wow. Just… wow.” Neve shakes his head and cuts his steak. “And you didn’t slap him?”
“No, but I wanted to.” We both laugh.
“Well shit. No wonder you’re ignoring him. What a D-bag.”
“Mmm Hmmm,” I murmur absently into my wine glass.
“But you like him.”
I fiddle with the stem of my wine glass, refusing to look up, and heave a deep sigh.
“So I guess the question is: what are we going to do about it?”
Matthew
“Are you sure they’re going to be here?” I ask Molly for the fifth time, glancing towards the front entrance door of Lone Rangers. “This doesn’t seem like a place Neve would bring her after a date.”
He has way more class than that.
Unfortunately.
Molly checks her phone and glances up at me. “Oh my gawd, would you chill out? I’ve got the situation under control. And by the way, you’re going to owe me a favor and I get to decide what it is.”
I glare at my sister, because there is a lot riding on Cecelia showing up tonight, and a few things I plan on accomplishing when she does, none of which will happen if Neve doesn’t bother to bring her. And they are, in no particular order:
Get Cecelia to kiss me
Get Cecelia to accept my apology.
Get Cecelia to date me.
Repeat.
Tonight is kind of a big deal for me.
I don’t normally lay it all on the line like this, and never in front of other people… My longest relationship was with Shelly Connors in seventh grade math class and was extremely one sided. As in: I copied off of Shelly and she remained blissfully unaware. That relationship ended when our teacher, Mrs. Rettler, reassigned the class seating mid-year, so… Yeah.
My buddy Kevin appears from behind and claps a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it tight. “Dude, don’t you feel even the slightest bit demoralized that we’re all here to witness your potentially public rejection?”
A low growl sounds from behind Molly, and Jenna emerges to bark at Kevin. “Oh my god, would you shut up?” Her eyes flare at him, alive with interest as she fumes. “Ugh. I can’t believe you know a word like demoralized.”
“You better watch that sassy little mouth of yours before I stick my tongue down your throat to shut you up.” Kevin retorts, drinking in her colorful outfit appraisingly from head to toe. I don’t know what it is about this girl, but she’s always dressed like an exhibit in an art gallery. All she needs to complete her ensemble is a neon sign above her blinking ‘Look at Me!’
“You. Are. Disgusting.” Jenna spits out, breathing hard and clearly becoming turned on by his dirty talk.
Kevin moves closer to Jenna, smirking. “You like it, you little slut.”
Jenna gasps and whispers in mock horror, “How dare you…”
Molly throws her arms up in the air, cutting off their foreplay with a referee’s time-out hand signal. “Okay, okay you two – Jiminy Crickets. Take your hate filled eye orgy out to the dance floor or a dark corner, would’ja?” She tosses her long auburn ponytail over her shoulder.
Our friends are ridiculous and the thought of Cecelia walking in to this den of crazy has my stomach turning in knots. “Um, maybe you should all just go. Far, far away.”
Weston snickers. “Matt, buddy, do you really want us to leave you here to fend for yourself? We allll know how that worked out the last time you tried navigating this shit on your own.”
He looks rather pleased with himself, the sarcastic little bastard.
“Whoaaa - have you always been this snarky?”
My sister cocks her head at me and narrows her green eyes. “Is that a serious question, or are you being sarcastic?”
Her phone beeps and she checks it, smiling, then slides it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Why don’t you take Weston up to the bar and wait. You’re starting to drive me bat-shit-crazy.” Molly gives me a shove and scoots us away with her hands. “Shoo. Go. Get the heck out of here.”
Cecelia
We walk in to The Lone Ranger, Neve and I, one of his large hands curled around my waist, his thumb hooked into the waist band of my shorts, guiding me as we weave our way through the bar near the back wall. I glance up at him and he pulls me in tighter, running the thumb tucked into my shorts back and forth along the bare skin under my shirt.