“Look, I need help, ok?”
“No argument here,Romeo, but I’m not the one for the job. Listen, if you’re so hellbent on this idea of self-improvement, then ask an ex-girlfriend or something. Talk to someone you’ve actually had a relationship with. We’ve known each other for just over a week. I’m hardly qualified.”
“But that's just it.You are so qualified.”
She shoots me a glare again,and I realize I’m on dangerous ground so I verbally skate back into the neutral zone.
“Look,the thing is, I can’t ask any of my exes. Because I don’thaveany exes. I’ve never dated anyone.”
“Are you kidding me?You look like...well,you,and you expect me to believe that I was your first date?”
“Yep. I had a good year, ok. Believe me, if you saw a picture of me from a year or two ago, we would not be sitting here having this conversation. Hell, if you saw me in person back then, you probably would have looked right past me. That's what girls have always done. Until now.”
She studies me. “Now as in…”
“As in college. I’m way too old to be this inexperienced.”
“Honestly? That’s the patriarchy talking, pal. There’s no perfect age to start hooking up or dating. Do what feels right. And why are you asking me, anyway?”
“Because I have literally no clue, ok. And…I’m explaining this poorly. Ok, so like, when I'm struggling with my game, you know? I go to my coach. So that’s what I need now. A coach. But not for hockey. For dating.”
She laughs out loud. “Can you hear yourself right now? You want me to coach you?”
“Yes.”
“Because you’re a full-grown man with the experience of a…”
“Middle schooler. Lots of dreams, very little reality.”
“Which is why you want me to coach you.”
“Exactly. I just, like, need you to show me how to do it.”
Her eyes go wide. This is not going to plan. “It? Likeitit? Like a prostitute? Because sex work was not part of the original proposal.”
Okay, I’m probably going to hell for this, but hearing the wordsexfrom Mel’s pouty lips does things to me, like…the words shoot straight tomy dick.
“No—” I correct. “Not…just dating. Like how to ask a girl out and talk to a girl and I don’t know…how to get through a date without making a fool out of myself.”
“That’s a tall order,” she mutters, but there’s a smile behind it, and that’s why Mel is the perfect person to help. Van was right. Yeah, she’s sexy as hell, but she’s funny too. And honest, but not unkind. She’s a straight shooter, and that’s what I need.
“Listen, Will,” she starts and already, I know I’m doomed. “I get that you think you need help, but your plan is batshit. It won’t work. And even if it would—” she stops mid-sentence, her gaze drawn to the door. Her face goes pale, and I’m half afraid she’s seen a ghost or an ax-murderer. But when I look behind me, there’s an older lady and a middle-aged guy with glasses. I don’t know what spooked her, but she seems okay now.
“It would work, Mel, trust me. Just three dates, that’s all I’m asking. And I’d do anything to repay you.”
“You’re sweet, Will. And that’s exactly what you really do need—some sweet girl to show you the ropes. I am not sweet. I’m salty as fuck.”
“I know. And that’s why you’re the perfect person for the job.”
“Are you a business major? Because this was a decent pitch. The answer’s no, of course, but points for persistence.”
“Nope, I’m a kinesiology major.”
She shrugs. “Well, stick to that, handsome.”
She pats my cheek like I’m a little kid who just showed her a drawing of a dinosaur or something. Suddenly, mid-pat, she freezes again. I look over to see that middle-aged guy with glasses staring straight at us.
“Melanie,” he says. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. Did you get my message?”
