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

Kicking off my heels, I made sure the hall was clear before dashing across to the foyer. The music came back on louder than ever. I took my position down near the floor, just my phone sticking out around the corner. I had to bite my lip so hard to keep from giggling in anticipation.

Abi flew out of the office like she was being launched by a male dancer. After a quick twirl, she made a clumsy leap into the air and sprinted down the hall on the balls of her feet. Only a few feet away from where I sat, she stopped dead in her tracks and doubled over. At first, I thought she’d hurt herself but then she stood with a flourish and carried on. I panned the phone along with her down the hall, knowing the moment she turned she’d see me.

I think she was attempting a pirouette when she finally spotted me. I didn’t move the phone away, only gave her a little wave to the side. Watching that realization wash over her expression was worth months of mental torture at her hand. She froze, her hand cocked as if it still wanted to dance away.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice tinged with panic.

“Apparently catching a sneak peek for next season’s
America’s Got Talent
,” I snickered.

Her face morphed into a bitter scowl. With rounded shoulders and hard footfalls, she pounded past me muttering under her breath.

“You know, the only thing you’ve managed to bring back is that terrible outfit. Seriously. Didn’t you wear that last week?” I called out, keeping the phone trained on her.

She glared at me over her shoulder, but I could tell I’d finally bested her. With one last sneer, she flipped me off and disappeared into her office. The music died a moment later and my video ended with a final laugh.

Cell phone: $600.

Case: $24.99

One video of Abi-lutely horrible singing? Priceless.

Catching Abi had bolstered my mood so much I almost forgot about how upset I’d been with Anette. It wasn’t until I started the final walk back from the station to our building that the sickening feeling returned to my gut. For a moment I considered going right past our apartment and heading straight upstairs to Zach’s, but decided against it.

With a sour taste in my mouth, I unlocked the door and braced myself for the worst.

Anette was at the sink when I entered. The silence that welcomed me spoke volumes about her state of mind. It’s rough feeling uncomfortable in your own home, but I vowed to act as normal as possible. I wanted her to take the lead and see how she’d react to my presence.

I dropped my purse at the door, kicked off my shoes, and made my way to the fridge.

“Hey,” Anette said without looking up from the dishes.

Surprised she’d spoken, I replied in kind. “I thought you were working tonight,” I said as I stuck my head in to hunt for leftovers.

“Yeah, well. I’m not.”

I made a face in the privacy of my cool fridge and didn’t reply. After shuffling through a few unidentifiable containers, I grabbed a soda and shut the door.

“Do you wanna order something?”

“Already ate,” she snapped again, waving a soapy spatula in the air for proof.

“Oookay,” I replied. I was about to make a comment about it being the first time in history she made dinner, but bit my tongue.
She’s on the edge of civil, but she’s still civil.

I plopped on the sofa and stretched out my legs with a groan. The tension was so strange. I felt like I was acting relaxed rather than actually being relaxed, like it was a performance in my own home.

I thought I might try to lighten the mood by sharing what happened at the office just before I came home. “I caught Abi doing something hilarious today.”

“
Mmmhmm
,” Anette replied without looking up from her phone.

I swallowed a nasty comment and smiled harder through the conversation. “She thought she was alone and started dancing up and down the hall. I even have video.”

“Oh?”

“Come on. You hate her as much as I do,” I scoffed, getting fed up with her attitude.

She met my eye with an uninterested dull look. “I hardly know the woman. She’s your coworker, Tal. I have no reason to like or hate her.”

“Please. You’ve met her a few times and each time walked away doing nothing but bitch about her. I know you want to see this video,” I added, wiggling my phone.

“Eh. Whatever.”

I clapped my hand on my thigh and fought to control the volume of my voice. “Really? Is this seriously how you want to live now? Just pretending to be friends? Give me something to work with here. I’m trying to fix this.”

“Fix something you broke, you mean. Did you ever stop to think what this might do to the rest of us? Did it ever once occur to you this might not end well?” Anette snapped.

“Of course it did,” I half-lied. To be honest, my need for male companionship had clouded my judgment to the point I’m not sure if I’d even considered the downsides. But I wasn’t about to admit that to her right now.

She slammed her hands on her hips and turned away, looking more like a disappointed mother than my friend. “I can’t believe Zach would be stupid enough to do this.”

“Oh, but you can believe I would be? What the hell? I can’t do anything right, can I?” I snapped.

“It’s not that,” she said. She rubbed her temples and sighed.  “It’s that he… nevermind. This whole conversation is a waste of time.”

I was completely fired up again. “And for once you’re right.”

Anette rounded on me and I instantly regretted not dropping the fight when I had the chance. “This is how things will play out, just so you know. One of you is going to get too attached. Feelings are gonna get hurt. You might think you have it all figured out, but you’re playing with fire here.”

“We have rules.” It was supposed to sound reassuring but came out petulant.

“Uh-huh. So did the millions of other friends who thought they could have it all. But sooner or later those rules won’t mean shit and you know who’s gonna be caught in the middle? Moi.”

“We’re both seeing other people,” I scoffed. “It’s not like we’re mutually exclusive or something. I’m still on Tinder, he’s still doing… whatever Zach does.”

“Oh yeah, Mr. Magic Tongue working his charms all over town,” she sneered.

I blushed at the nickname but pressed on. “I find it very hard to believe that’s the reason you’re upset.”

“You’re right. That isn’t the only reason I’m pissed off. I’m upset because you kept things from me, you didn’t trust me, you did things behind my back and lied by omission.”

“Then maybe it’s a good idea if we just don’t talk for a while.”

“Great idea.”

“Great.”

“Works for me!”

“Perfect.”

I’m gonna say up front that this date shouldn’t have happened in the first place. Anette pissed me off. I only agreed to meet up with him because I felt like I had something to prove, both to her and to myself. Messing around with Zach wasn’t a mistake, our feelings weren’t going to get involved, and I could date other people at the same time. Screw her and whatever the hell she thought of me.

Like most guys online, Jay seemed like a normal, funny guy. I could tell from the way our conversations leaned he was mostly playing polite to get into my pants. After a few weeks of dealing with the seedy underbelly of dating, it’s amazing how far that amount of effort went with me. That’s fine. I wasn’t getting a real relationship vibe from him anyway. Plus, he was pretty cute.

After furiously texting him in the privacy of my room, I threw on a fresh outfit and stormed into the living room. I made a point of walking in front of the TV, making sure Anette knew I was going out on a date without telling her. As I knelt to put on my shoes, Pluto trotted over and stuck his cold nose in my face.

“Hey little guy. Don’t wait up for me,” I said loud enough for Anette to hear.

I rage-walked the ten blocks to a bar near his apartment. No nerves, no trepidation at meeting a guy for the first time, nothing but a rolling, seething anger in my gut.

I spotted him in the bar, ordered a drink, and started with the small talk. He looked like I’d pulled him out of bed, which might’ve been the case this time of night. But he continued the polite charade if only because he thought it might get him something. His blondish hair was closely cropped and though his photos had hidden it, he had a crooked nose that made me think he might be into boxing.

Consciously or not, I’d already decided if he seemed like a half-way decent human being, I was gonna have my first real one-night-stand. It was a spite-fuck.

“Don’t you wanna get out of here?”

His forehead crinkled in confusion. “You mean, like,
go,
go?”

“Yeah, let’s go. I’d love to see your place,” I said with a sickeningly sweet voice. I reached out and stroked his arm just in case he was thicker than a block of wood. And speaking of wood, I deliberately glanced at his crotch to see him sporting some of his own.

I didn’t mess around. When we got to his apartment, I tore my first layer off and lunged for him. In the back of my mind, all I could think was,
Anette thinks she knows me so well. I bet she’d never predict me doing this. Who’s a puppet now?

Forrest had wanted me to tap into my inner Dominatrix, but we all know how well that surprise encounter went. But with Jay, I was channeling my inner porn star. His every touch and kiss was met with a loud moan, like even his breath on my skin could bring me hurtling toward orgasm.

“Mmmm, that feels so good,” I purred.

“Ye-yeah? You like that?” he replied hesitantly.

“Oh yeah, baby.”

Apparently that’s how I act when I’m determined to screw a stranger. My suddenly boiling hot libido rocked him for a few moments but he quickly recovered.

“Lemme give you a massage, warm you up.”

“Yeah, I love massages,” I replied. I leaned forward and crossed my legs in what I hoped was a seductive pose. “Do you have oil?”

“Yeah, totally. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be right back.”

I took off my top and lounged on his bed, smiling to myself.

Jay switched off all but one light and sat beside me on the bed. He rubbed his hands together to warm the oil and softly placed them on my back. At first, it felt amazing. It’d been a long time since someone had given me a massage.
I bet Zach’s good at them.
I cursed myself for thinking about him, shaking the idea away and focusing on Jay’s hands. As he swirled up and around my shoulders I caught a whiff of something I couldn’t place.

Between my soft little pleased moans I asked, “That feels so nice, but what kind of oil is it?”

“It’s… uh… I use it for cooking,” he stammered. His hand slipped down my ribs and brushed the side of my breast.

“Nice. It’s not coconut… is it olive oil?”

“Yeah, something like… does this feel good?” he asked as he rubbed my calves.

The oil just wasn’t sinking into my skin no matter how long he massaged me, but I wasn’t going to let that deter me.
I can shower afterward. Hell, maybe it’ll make it more fun.

“Lemme do you,” I said as I peered at him over my shoulder.

His eyes lit up as he immediately stopped my massage.
Figures. The second his pleasure is mentioned, mine stops,
I thought sourly. Still, I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way. I needed to prove Anette wrong, for myself and sexually liberated women everywhere.

Jay whipped his shirt off and I was pleasantly surprised by what was underneath. Buff, a little fuzz on the chest, and shoulders I could imagine holding onto, if you know what I mean. As he lay flat on his stomach, I thought,
I might actually enjoy rubbing this guy down.

He gestured toward the small bowl of oil on the side table. I greased up my hands, ignoring the fact I smelled faintly like French fries, and got into position.

He rolled over and grinned at me, his eyes traveling up and down my bare chest. “I could get used to this, you know.”

Emboldened by the situation, I rubbed the oil across my breasts and smiled seductively. “Why don’t you pull down your pants a little so I can get to your lower back?” I suggested. Jay moved quickly to unbuckle his jeans and tug them further down his hips.