“What kind of books are you reading?” I muttered, mostly to myself, then said, “What are you going to wear, Kinsley? You’re running out of time.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Rain boots and nipple pasties!” she snapped.
There was a dull click as she hung up, and the car filled with an uncomfortable silence.
Well, if was going to wear that, it was definitely worth stopping by the restaurant to see the looks on their faces…
CHAPTER EIGHT – KINSLEY
rule eight: dates are not your soapbox. he doesn’t care how many things they got wrong in the third harry potter movie.
“It can’t have been that bad.”
I pulled my face up out of my hands and looked at Saylor and Holley. “Our table was booked for forty-five minutes ago and yet I’m here, at the bookstore. I ordered spaghetti. I’m wearing white. You add it up.”
Saylor grimaced. “Okay, it could have been that bad.”
I sat up straight and let them see the state of my white dress. It wasn’t the dress I’d sent to them earlier—I definitely hadn’t been comfortable with the tightness of that—but it didn’t really matter at this point.
Right in front of my dress, smack bang on my boobs, was a big, orange smear.
Holley pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God.”
Saylor didn’t even bother to hide her laughter. “How did you do that?”
I slumped back on the table. “It was a nightmare from the very beginning. His photos were definitely a little old, but whatever, he was nice. Until we started talking. He talked a lot about his job, and when I was finally able to steer the conversation away from it, we started talking about movies.”
“That’s not… so bad,” Holley ventured, coming back from the staff room with three wine glasses and a cold bottle of wine.
“Where did you get that?”
“I had a hunch.” Saylor snorted as she took the bottle from her.
Great. Even they knew this would go wrong.
“Okay, carry on.” Saylor slid a glass in front of me.
“He asked me what my favorites are, and when I said the best ones to binge are Harry Potter, he went on a rant about how shit the movies are and how he had no idea how anyone could enjoy them.”
Both of their eyes widened. They were the literal image of a deer in headlights.
“When I said they weren’t bad, they just weren’t as good as the books because they obviously missed a lot out—especially Azkaban—he told me he’d never read the books but they were probably garbage, too.”
Holley gasped, clutching her hands to her check. “He did not!”
“He did!”
Saylor shot to her feet and planted her hands on the table. “Give me his number. Nobody talks shit about Harry and gets away with it.”
I held up my hands and shook my head. “It gets worse.”
She slowly sat back down, but she had murder in her eyes.
“After I changed the subject again, our food came and thankfully stopped another painful conversation. There was a crash somewhere in the restaurant, it spooked me, and I dropped spaghetti on my dress.” My cheeks burned at the memory of how shock and disgust had filled his eyes. “I excused myself to the bathroom to try to fix it—”
“Unsuccessfully,” Holley added brightly.
“Unsuccessfully,” I drawled. “But when I got back to the table, he was gone and had paid for his half of dinner. Rihanna said he’d had a phone call about a family emergency and rushed off, but even she rolled her eyes as she said it.”
“What a dick!” Saylor said, sipping her wine. “And Josh thought this guy was worth your time?”
“Well, people aren’t always the same in real life as they are on the internet.”
I pointed at Holley and nodded. “I don’t spill spaghetti on myself on the internet.”
She smiled sadly. “Sorry your date went badly, Kins.”
“It’s fine. It happens. I’m sure there’ll be another one that won’t be so terrible next time.”
“And you won’t be wearing white or ordering the spaghetti,” Saylor said with a grin.
“And I’ll find out how he feels about Harry Potter before I go.”
We all laughed and quickly moved on. It wasn’t that late and the store was technically still open, but it was so quiet that I helped them close up while we finished the bottle of wine.
When we were done, I waved them goodbye and got into my car, where I promptly kicked off my shoes to drive barefoot.
Yes, yes, don’t worry. I’d only had one glass of wine.
And a half.
I didn’t get a chance to drink the one I’d paid for at the restaurant.
My phone rang just as I pulled away, and I hit the button on the built-in screen on my dashboard. “Hello?”
“Oh. I didn’t expect you to answer.”
“Then why did you call me?”
My brother chuckled. “Bet with Josh. He bet you’d still be on the date, but I knew you’d left already.”
“How did you know?”
“I saw your car outside the bookstore.”
“Ah, so you cheated.”
“I omitted some truths,” he admitted. “Was it that bad?”
I relayed the story with a little less detail than I’d shared with the girls.
“Shit. You really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”
“I didn’t pick him. Josh did.”
“You need a new matchmaker.”
“I concur,” I muttered, pulling up to the intersection and flipping on my blinker. “What are you doing right now?”
“Outside Bronco’s, avoiding my girlfriend. We just grabbed dinner.”
“You and Josh or you and Amber?”
“Why would I have had dinner with Amber if I’m avoiding her?”
“I don’t know, you weren’t exactly clear in your last message.”
He huffed, making my speakers crackle. “Me and Josh. Amber is on the other side of Bronco’s with a friend. She doesn’t know I’m here.”
I shook my head. I’d said it a thousand times and I’d probably say it a thousand more: I didn’t know why they didn’t just break up. It wasn’t like they were eighteen anymore. Colton was almost thirty and Amber was
