11
Grace
Portia was, in fact, very pissed off at me for ruining the date with Chuck. Our conversation had gone something like this:
Me:Chuck was boring.
Portia: You need boring because you're a hot fucking volatile mess!
Me: That's rude, Portia.
Portia: No. That's fact!
Me: Well. At least make himhandsomeand boring.
Portia: ...
She'd mademe pay for ithandsomely. Over the last week, I'd been on three horrific dates with people handpicked by Portia. A funny thing happened, though. I noticed every time I had to go on a terrible date, my clumsiness got worse. On the first date, I bruised my thigh when I brushed too close to another diner's table, resulting in me shouting obscenities fit for a Navy battleship, and spilling the couple's wine right when he was about to propose.
The second date ended with me sporting a tremendous shiner when my date (who was freakishly tall) moved into put his arm around me. I'd taken an elbow right to the cheekbone and ended up in the hospital high on painkillers. Needless to say, I didn't call him back either.
The third date was slightly better, but the conversation wasn't what you would call scintillating. He spoke in a monotone reminiscent of serial killers or, even worse, robocalls. But, he was attractive and could hold a conversation without any weird and awkward pauses. But when he spoke about history, I couldn't tell if he was just genuinely numb or if he was passionate about anything because his voice had zero inflection. So I spent the entire night confused. It was almost like he'd gotten a Botox overdose in his voice box.
However, these terrible dates did make me start writing in my journal, and I realized I kind of liked it. Not that I'd tell that Comey sister, but I found waking up with a positive attitude really helped set the tone of my day. Then ending it, I could see how it had gone wrong.
My cell phone rang just as I was finishing up. I snagged it and pressed the answer button without checking to see who it was.
"'Lo?"
His warm baritone rolled across the line sending shivers up my spine and anger down to my toes. "Grace Banner. You're avoiding me."
"It's a scientific fact that if you avoid the site of an outbreak you won't get sick."
Lucas snorted.
"Science, Lucas. That's what this is."
"I've been by your house multiple times."
"Unfortunately, science doesn't have a real explanation for stalking, besides the psychological aspects of it, but the law can explain that to you. I'll help that along if you keep showing up here."
He sighed. "I've been trying to apologize to you for awhile now."
"Your apology has been filed for future reference." I studied my nails and tried to still my too fast heartbeat.
"One date, Grace," he said after a moment. "One single date. If you don't want to see me after that, I'll never darken your doorstep again."
I sat up straighter. " Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack. Or warm blood. Both are pretty serious."
"First. Eww. Second...I accept your proposal. One date. I pick the place. The time. What you wear. What your facial hair looks like." I stopped to think. "What we eat. And our conversation topics."
I could hear Lucas' amusement through the line. "That all sounds very...specific. But I agree."
He agreed too quickly. Now I was suspicious. "Why do you keep pursuing me?"
"You're interesting, Grace. And witty. I like a girl with a little spunk."
