He knows it.
I sigh.
Man, I am so screwed.
Matthew
Normally, I’m not the kind of guy that tries forcing himself on people – and women in general. I typically don’t have to. But I find myself zoning in and out of the conversation unfolding in front of me in favor of plotting the seduction of one Cecelia Carter.
Out on the dance floor, Molly, Jenna, and Cecelia buckle over in laughter as they grab each other’s hips, swaying and dancing to the house band in what looks like an attempt to mock the music – one thing is for sure: they’re not taking themselves seriously.
“Dude. It’s rude to stare at my date right in front of me.” Neve points out, poking me to get my attention.
“Dude. It’s rude to bring my girl on a date right in front of me.”
Everyone laughs at my audacity. “Yeah, I guess it is, but - oh well. Shouldn’t have acted like a pig, I guess.”
“Cut the crap, alright? We all know this whole date is horse shit. What’s it going to take to get you to leave?” I cross my arms defensively.
Neve mirrors my stance. “Nothing. I gave you one shot with her the first time I took her out, and I’m not giving you another one. If she didn’t want to be here with me, she wouldn’t have come. So back off.”
“You’re seriously doing this to me right now?”
“I think she’s worth it, don’t you?”
Shit. He makes a good point.
She is worth it…
Neve doesn’t stop there and prattles on like a gushing school girl. “Smart, pretty… and man is she funny. We laughed our asses off through dinner. Hey, did you know that she really does have a black belt? It’s not bullshit. She’s had it since she was twelve. Crazy isn’t it?” He laughs. “Promised she’d show me how to toss someone over my shoulder.”
No, I didn’t realize she was actually a black belt – I just assumed she was full of shit and false bravado when she’d said it. It never occurred to me that she would have been telling the truth that morning she was trying to kick me out of her apartment the day we first met.
Now I’m realizing I’ve never really asked her about herself. Jeez, I really am a selfish prick – no wonder she wants nothing to do with me.
“Her sister, too. Says it’s because her dad travelled a lot when she was growing up and her parents wanted the girls to be able to defend themselves.”
Kevin leans in intently. “That’s so fucking hot. What else did she tell you?”
Neve takes a drag from his pilsner glass and licks the foam from his upper lip. “Well, she went skydiving for her eighteenth birthday and to Ireland alone for her twenty first. Definitely not afraid to do anything solo.” He taps his chin in thought. “Hmm, let’s see, what else… “
Suddenly, I can’t listen to anymore. Cupping my hands around my mouth to create a makeshift megaphone, I shout, “Hey Cece!” She stops dancing and looks my way, surprised – I’ve never called her Cece before. “Canoodle.” The word slips past my tongue and I stare at her hard – harder than I’ve ever stared at anyone before.
It doesn’t take long before Cecelia is stomping over, Jenna and Molly nipping at her heels. Angrily, she grabs me by the arm. “What the hell Matthew,” she hisses, giving my bicep an aggressive squeeze. “Why are you doing this?”
“Hey, more importantly, what the hell is a canoodle,” Jenna interrupts, her face twisted into a contorted, confused expression.
“It’s an old term that means to kiss and cuddle,” Molly answers wryly, raising her brows at me.
“Sounds like some kind of donut,” Kevin laughs.
“You would think it was a donut, you fucking moron,” Weston says, checking Kevin with his hip.
“Hey watch it. I almost spilled my drink – that’s alcohol abuse…” our friend mutters, clutching his beer glass with both fists and holding it tight against his body to protect it.
Jenna clicks her tongue, and watches as I cross my arms and repeat myself, only louder this time. “Ceceila Carter. I said canoodle.”
She shakes her head defiantly. “No.”
“Why the heck do you keep saying canoo –“ Molly stops herself abruptly, her pretty face lighting up as her best friend continues babbling beside her.
“Seriously, canoodle? Why not car? Or cardigan. Or cavity. Or cadaver….” Jenna mutters. “Those would all make more sense than just randomly….” She pauses. “Wait. Is that the… Oh my gawd, it is. Holy crap - that’s the code word from your bet at mini putt-putt, isn’t it?”
I stare at Cecelia, who continues glaring at me, feet glued to the floor. “You bet your sweet ass it is.”
Cecelia
Low. Blow.
What kind of a colossal asshole would call in a bet, for a kiss, while I was on a date. With. Another. Guy?