Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 4: A New Adult Romantic Comedy (3 page)

Clint looked tan and well-rested. His shirt was undone part way down his chest revealing a tuft of dark hair. The woodsy scent of his cologne filled my nostrils with almost every breath.
Mr. Adventure.
We sat only a few feet apart, alone, privately for hours. And I couldn’t concentrate on a damn thing. Not because of him… because of my fight with Anette.

My mind was pulled away at any sign of idleness. I couldn’t focus on the manuscript and despite sitting across from the delectable Clint English, all I could think about was my damn roommate.

Maybe I should apologize just to keep the peace. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, but I also know she’ll never be the first one to mend the bridge. She’s too fucking stubborn.

“So what do you think?”

Clint’s voice pulled me from my thought. I refocused my gaze on the notepad he’d slid between us. “Um, sorry. About what?”

He gave me a patient smile and repeated himself. “What do you think about starting the book in the middle, jump straight into the action?”

I leaned forward and read his notes. “It could definitely work. From where exactly?”

“Maybe the jungle capture?”

“Maybe…” I trailed off. I tapped the pen against my mouth thoughtfully, running through the different scenes in the book.

“What about your first jump?”

Clint cocked his head to the side as he considered it. “You think that’s more exciting than being kidnapped by rebels in the jungle?”

“I love that your life is so insane you can legitimately ask that question without it being ironic,” I chuckled. “The jungle thing could grab their attention, but I have a different idea.”

“Show me that beautiful mind,” he replied in his incredible accent.

I looked away to keep from blushing. “Picture this. It starts with you sitting in the plane as you’re ascending for your first jump. You’re nervous but excited, fearful but confident in your training. You describe everything up until the point you jump out and the scene ends. We jump to a point when you’re a kid, a story about you and your father.”

Clint frowned, a few lines appearing at the corners of his sea-green eyes. “Okay…”

“When that section ends, we go back to you on the brink of jumping. All the thoughts and feelings swirling around you. You describe what it’s like to take a step into nothingness. Maybe you look around at all your friends falling through the air and the scene ends. We cut to a point in your teenage years…”

“Isn’t this going to get confusing for the reader? You told me it needed to be a narrative. What you’re describing is like a Tarantino film.

“It only goes on until you touch the ground. The whole thing symbolizes your jump into adulthood. That first skydive can be a metaphor for you shedding your childhood and embarking on a life of your own choosing.”

Clint held my eye for a moment before dropping his gaze to the notepad in front of us. I bit my tongue as he thought it through and in that second of calm, my mind immediately slipped back into worrying about Anette and Zach.

I’ve never fought with her before, not like this. What if there’s no coming back from here?

Clint slapped a hand on the arm of his chair making me jump. “Yes! Good. I get it.”

I tried to cover my startled reaction with a broad smile, even though my heart threatened to thump out of my throat. “Great.”

He snatched a marker off the table and flew to the whiteboard. “With that idea in mind, what if we arrange…”

I drifted off again.

I wonder if she’s even thinking twice about it. She probably thinks she’s completely blameless in all this.

“Talia.” I blinked up to Clint who was looking concerned rather than irritated. “What’s up with you? You get pissed last night?”

I squinted at him, startled that he was reading my mind. “How did you know I had a fight?”

He shook his head with a laugh as he sat in a chair beside me. “Sorry. Pissed, as in drunk. You seem hungover and out of it.”

“Ah, no. Definitely not hungover,” I replied, my eyes falling to his hands.

One of the side-effects of sleeping with Zach was that it’d awoken some deeply concealed lust. I’d gone into a sexual hibernation for a few months, but now… everything turned me on. I studied the way a man’s hips moved as he walked down the street, imagining how well he’d use them in bed. Watching a man talk only made me think about his lips. Everywhere I looked I saw sexual things.

And Clint’s hands were pure fantasy. All the action and adventure he’d seen in his life, the idea of him touching me with those same hands…

“You’re doing it again,” he said, dipping his head to catch my eye. “What is up with you?”

“I’m sorry. Really. I got into a fight with my roommate last night and it’s all gone to hell. I’m sorry I’m letting it affect me here. Please, let’s carry on.”

Clint didn’t move. “Is this… Annie?”

“Close, Anette,” I smiled, surprised he’d remembered that much.

“And I take it you two don’t row much?” I frowned and before I could get him to explain, he clarified. “Row means to argue. I’m not helping much by speaking another language, am I?” he smiled.

“It’s all good. At least I’m learning.” I’m not sure why I opened up to him. Maybe because I felt a bit lonely. Without Zach, Anette, or Lourdes to confide in, I didn’t really have anyone else. “We don’t fight often, no. And this isn’t even all that serious but it’s just weighing on me. I’m easily distracted right now.”

“And neither of you are right or wrong?”

“Exactly.”

Clint made an empathetic groan. “Ah, those are the worst. I’m happy to listen if you want to…”

I let my gaze fall from his eyes to his mouth and then to my hands. I desperately wanted to talk it out with an impartial third party, but was cautiously aware of who he was. Deflecting with humor, I chuckled.

“Maybe I need a little liquid lubrication to get my tongue going.” Jesus, it sounded so much better in my head. Clint’s eyebrows shot up and I quickly backpedaled. “Booze! I meant booze.”

His nostrils flared as he tried not to snicker. “Something else lost in translation?” I held my head in my hands, wanting to melt into the chair, which drew his laugh out completely. “Aw, I’m sorry. I’m just teasing. Go on. What’s going wrong?”

My defenses were down out of sheer embarrassment. I knew it was inappropriate to talk to him about, but I had to get him to forget about that ridiculous lube slip-up. God, see? I did it again!

“Well, I guess it boils down to the fact that she thinks she has a say in how I live my life.” It sounded calm in my head, like a simple declarative sentence.
I like toast. Water is wet.
But when it left my lips, it was coated in a thick slime of anger.

Clint held the side of his head, index finger pointing up his temple thoughtfully. “That only makes sense if your decisions are impacting her life. Are they?”

“No!” I cleared my throat as I rolled a pen back and forth across the table. “No, not at all.”

“But she seems to think they will?”

“Apparently. But it’s more that she thinks I’m messing up my life or something.” I sighed, realizing how ridiculous this was all sounding without specifics. I couldn’t believe I was even talking to him about it.

“You seem pretty well put together from where I’m sitting.”

Holy shit. Did he mean for it to come out like that?
I thought frantically. “Thanks, I, uh…”

He leaned forward, the corner of the table separating us by a fraction. “Maybe I can help. Offer a second opinion. I’ve made a few epic mistakes in my life.”

I danced around the subject, not wanting to reveal my blog or my relationship with Zach. This conversation had already skidded off the track and I desperately needed to steer us back on course. “I’ve been seeing a guy she doesn’t approve of,” I replied, almost apologetically.

“Ah,” he said with a tone I couldn’t quite translate. It almost sounded disappointed which was confusing.

“Not
seeing
exactly, just hanging out.” My clarification didn’t make it sound much better. A part of me wondered why I was so concerned with how he perceived me in the first place.

He’d surprisingly gone stiff with the conversation and was hesitant to meet my eye. “Right, I see. Well, if she’s met this bloke before then maybe you should take her advice to heart.”

“It’s not serious or anything,” I continued to defend.

“Good,” he breathed before quickly adding. “I mean, you and Anette shouldn’t fall out over a guy you aren’t really into, ya know?”

“She’s a lesbian-leaning omnisexual, so it’s not like I’ll take her advice about men.”

He nodded slowly. I could tell he didn’t have a clue as to what that meant. “Right, so…”

I considered his point as I thought about Zach. I didn’t want to lose either of them as friends. It wasn’t like I’d fallen in love with him. We
could
stop messing around, if only for the sake of the group. I realized I’d drifted off again, thinking about all the pros and cons of doing just that.

“Sorry. I really shouldn’t have dumped all this on you,” I said, brushing invisible crumbs from my lap in embarrassment.
I should learn to keep my damn mouth shut.

“Don’t be. You know so much about me, it’s only fair I start to know a bit more about you.”

I waved my hand like I was clearing smoke from the air. “Eh, there’s not a lot to learn.”

“On the contrary. I think there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye. You obviously have secrets, perhaps another identity.” My breath hitched in my throat as I peered deep into his eyes. I opened my mouth to speak when he laughed. “God, I was joking but maybe I’m closer to the mark than I thought.”

“Right. Yeah. I actually work for the government,” I replied.

“I knew it! You’re a secret agent planning on luring me to bed and assassinate me in my sleep.”

My eyes went wide as I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. It was the first time I’d seen the suave and collected Clint English put his foot in his mouth.

“So, uh… I’ll think this all over,” he said quickly, turning away. “I’m flying back out to California this week, so it might be next week we can get together to properly hash this out.”

“Great!” I tried not to stare as his tanned skin grew redder. Seems this meeting left us on equal footing in more ways than one.

Aside from my surprise connection with Clint earlier in the afternoon, the only bright spot in my workday was from Abi. I hung around a lot longer than I had to, making busy work for myself as an excuse to avoid going home. Lisa had left early for a meeting and I thought I was alone in the office. That is, until it turned into Midtown’s hippest karaoke bar.

Without warning, the hallway was filled with a surprisingly loud, thumping music. At first I thought it might be the cleaning crew, so I was a little shocked when Abi came bounding past my office door singing.

It was one of those songs you knew instantly, even though the last time you heard it was during a drunken night back in 2010.

I'm bringing sexy back
Them other boys don't know how to act
I think you're special, what's behind your back?
So turn around and I'll pick up the slack.

Abi was singing and dancing to Justin-freakin-Timberlake. She was so caught up in her
Footloose
impression my presence went unnoticed. I was in such a state of shock, I didn’t even laugh at first. Her voice echoed down the hall as she sang with an almost tone-deaf pitch.

I pushed my chair away and sank to the floor, hoping my hiding spot under the desk would keep her from discovering me for just bit longer. She dashed back toward her office, skipping and twirling like a little kid. It took everything in me to keep from laughing. After a few moments, the music changed and then changed again.
She’s messing with the playlist,
I thought.

I pulled out my phone knowing I had to document it, maybe hand it over to the psychologist when they’re committing her to the psych ward. I quickly swiped to the video and realized I was only going to get fleeting glimpses of her as she dashed back and forth in front of my door.
I need to move.