“But Christina, how will I ever get off the Planet of the Douche if you don’t tell me how to be more like guys who are, oh what was it, driven and motivated while still beingfun?”
“That’s a lost cause,” I inform him. “This guy is the total opposite ofyou.”
“So he’s, what?” Aaron prompts. “A lonely basement dweller with an obscene amount of backhair?”
“No,” I retort, “he’s a successful financial advisor with a promising career. He’s classy, has manners, makes jokes that are actually funny, and looks very good in asuit.”
“Ouch,” Aaron replies, clutching his chest. “That’s the opposite ofme?”
“Yes. You are none of thosethings.”
I climb into the car, intending to leave, but Aaron clamps a hand down on the door before I can pull itshut.
“I’ll tell you one thing, Dominguez,” he says, leaning down so we’re face to face. “That guy you’re going out with, he’s not going to be fun. He might tick off all the other boxes on your list. He might be charming and smart and motivated and have acarahlothat will keep you up all nightlong—”
“Do you even know—” I start to interrupt, but Aaron cuts meoff.
“Yes, I know whatcarahlomeans. You call me that enough that I looked it up.” He gives me a smile that I don’t return. “All I’m saying is, ‘fun’ is not something you put on a list. Fun is something that takes you by surprise, that makes you forget the list ever even existed in the first place. If this guy hasn’t done that already, he neverwill.”
I blink at Aaron, his eyes fixed on mine as I try to keep myself from getting caught up in their beach water blue. That’s probably the only reason girls like him so much. He has the kind of eyes that make you feel like you’re the only person in the world when he’s staring atyou.
“Uh, thanks, love guru,” I mutter, focusing on the windshield ahead of me. “But I don’t really need your relationshipadvice.”
He lets go of the car door and shrugs. “If you say so,niña.”
“That’s Spanish, not Portuguese,” I tell him, pulling the car door shut before he can get in anotherword.
* * *
Iwalkinto the dimly lit bar, the sounds of the street outside replacing themselves with muffled chatter and clinking glasses. It takes me about two seconds to realize I’m severelyunderdressed.
If I had to describe my personal style, I’d go with a classy yet casual, I’m-fun-but-I’ve-got-my-shit-together kind of vibe. Tonight’s outfit fits perfectly along those lines: dark skinny jeans paired with wedges and a sheer black top, worn under a dark brown leather jacket that’s snug enough to show off mycurves.
Where the look doesn’t fit perfectly is in a bar filled with men in suits and women in diamonds. Plush booths line the walls and the towering shelves of liquor bottles on display behind the bar glimmer like a collection of crown jewels. There’s even a grand piano tucked away in a corner. This place is definitely the territory of toe-pinching heels and theLBD.
I’m still standing in the doorway taking in the scene when a man in one of the booths stands up and waves at me. I make my way over and take the outstretched hand he offersme.
“Christina.”
“Drew,” I answer, unable to keep my eyes from going wide as he brings my hand to his lips and plants a soft kiss on the back ofit.
He keeps his gaze glued to mine the entire time, the corner of his mouth stretching up into a smile before he lets my handgo.
Okay, I think,a bit creepy, but maybe it wasironic?
“So you’re the chivalrous type?” I joke, hoping he’ll join me inlaughing.
“I couldn’t resist,” he responds, smiling again as he sits backdown.
I join him, choosing to take his answer as confirmation that he realizes greeting someone with hand kissing and unbroken eye contact is a bitweird.
“I feel very underdressed,” I admit, trying to ease the awkwardness. “I didn’t realize we were going somewhere soclassy.”
“I like your style,” he answers. “You look...fresh, if that’s not too strange of a thing tosay.”
Yeah dude, it’s prettystrange.
“Maybe a little,” I laugh, “but I’ll take it as acompliment.”
