Page 13 of Afterglow (Ottawa Regents #3)

I’ve Never Been on a Date Before

Fletcher

I munch on some popcorn while waiting for Antiques Roadshow to return to the screen.

It’s the closest I’ll get to betting while the guys are away.

Behraz throws open her door and gives me a thumbs up. “Brown noise with the Pomodoro method helped. I got all the flashcards right!”

“Nice.” She joins me on the couch. My heart rate picks up. “Taking a break?”

“Just ten minutes or so.” A fistful of popcorn disappears from my bowl and into her mouth. “Whatcha watching?”

“Antiques Roadshow.”

“Wow,” she says through a crunch, “you really are a nerd.”

“I know. But I like what I like.”

An older woman appears on screen, seated with the appraiser at a table.

“Alright, Betty. What do you have for us today?”

“So this is a family heirloom that I received when my grandmother died. I’ve always been told it’s an emerald pendant on a gold chain, and it was gifted to her on her first date with my grandfather.”

Behraz snorts. “Dating is so different now.” She steals another handful of popcorn, and I slyly leave the bowl on her lap. “I swear I couldn’t pay someone to take me on a date.”

“Sorry? You’ve never been on a date?” I mean, I’ve never been on a date, but I’m a pathetic loser. Behraz, though? She’s everything. I’d date her so hard.

“No need to rub it in.”

“I’m not, I’m just surprised.”

“I don’t know. I’ve been bought drinks or hooked up with people?—”

My heart plops to my stomach and swirls around.

“But you know, never a date-date. No one’s ever asked to take me out for dinner, or brought me flowers, or anything like that.

It’s kinda sad being perpetually single, but then again…

maybe it’s for the best. I could never keep up with all the expectations of any relationships and at least this way I didn’t hurt anyone but myself. ”

What a goddamn shame. She deserves a room full of flowers. Endless meals she doesn’t have to pay for. Someone to wait on her, hand and foot. Someone to worship her. I wish it could be me.

“It’s not much solace, but I’ve never been on a date before either.”

“Seriously?”

Social anxiety isn’t really conducive to flirting.

“I’m not good in social situations most of the time.

It makes me so anxious to go to a crowded place and make small talk.

Especially with women.” My shoulders tense, then drop.

“It never seems right, always forced and like…like they want something from me that I can’t give them.

And also there’s fear that whatever I have to offer, they’re not interested.

” I’m spouting nonsensical rambles instead of being able to admit that she’s the only woman I’ve wanted since I was twenty-two.

“Sorry, I have no idea what I’m saying.”

“No, I get it,” she says, tilting her head in my direction. “And I hate to break it to you, but…I’m a woman, and you talk to me.”

“That’s different.” ‘Cause I’m obsessed with you in an unhealthy way. And you still make me nervous as hell. “It’s easy with you,” I admit, and it feels like a weight dropped from my shoulders. You’re all I want.

A light gleams in Behraz’s eyes. “Maybe we should go on a date.”

My face heats. “What?”

“Not romantically, just…as friends. It’s the least I can do.” She hands over the empty bowl of popcorn. “You let me stay here, drive me around. At least this way, you get something out of me being here, too.”

Her being here is everything to me.

Bea nods in confirmation to herself. “Then, when you go on a real date, you’ll know what to do.”

A real date? What makes her think I wanna go on a date with anyone else but her? And why can’t I just say that?

Her phone rings out, the timer signaling her break is over. “Okay, back to studying.”

“See ya.”

“Don’t for a second think you’re off the hook, Mister.” She waves a finger at me. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Think of some date ideas and we’ll discuss.”

Before I can protest, her bedroom door slams shut.

Fuck me, I’m gonna be practice-dating Behraz Irani.

“Fletcher?” Behraz calls from across the apartment a couple of hours later. “Could you come in here?”

I approach her bedroom door, my steps quiet and tentative. I point. “In there? In your bedroom?”

“Yes, you silly goose. Sit right here.” She pats a spot on her bed next to where she sits against the headboard. “I need help with this crossword. I’m trying to be good and finish.”

Oh, my mind is filthy. Incorrigible.

“C’mon, hurry up,” Behraz demands. “What, have you never sat on a girl’s bed before?”

I’ve never sat on a girl’s bed before. At least, not a girl who wasn’t my sister.

“Oh, my God. You’ve never sat on a girl’s bed before.”

There’s a warmth crawling up my chest, ready to turn into an embarrassing blush. Goddamnit.

“I’m so sorry, Fletcher. That was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” I try to shrug it off with humor. “I’ve had opportunities, I’ll have you know, but I’ll only sit on a girl’s bed when I’m good and ready.”

There’s an awkward lull while Bea stares into the air above her head, wondering what the fuck I’m talking about.

“Are…you ready now?”

“Right, yes. I’m ready.” I lower to the mattress, folding one leg underneath the opposite knee, leaving one foot on the ground. “What’s the clue?”

“Four-letter word. Third letter, T. Feed the kitty.” She drops the pen and throws her arms up. “All the answers I have are dirty and don’t fit.”

That’d be me, too, but this one I actually know.

“Ante.”

“A-n-t-i?”

“E instead of i. It’s a poker term.”

“Kitty is a poker term?”

I lift my palms in surrender. “I don’t make the rules.”

“I trust you.” She fills out the squares and thinks about the word perpendicular to it. There are only a couple of letters missing. “Cafeteria shout, cafeteria shout.” The end of her pen taps against her lips. “Oh! Food fight!”

“Nicely done.”

She jumps to her knees, punching the air in victory. “Woo hoo! I did it, I did it.”

All the bouncing is doing horribly embarrassing things to my groin. I gotta get out of here. I scramble to my feet and head towards the open door.

“Hey, get back here. Where are your date ideas?”

I tap my temple with my finger. “All up here.”

“Nope, not good enough.” She slides off the bed. “Hold on.” Behraz steps into the walk-in closet and roots around in a box, then emerges with a handful of popsicle sticks and a glass Mason jar.

“What’s this?”

“To write down the ideas.” Each wooden stick gets numbered, and she hands me a few. “Then we put them in this jar, and whenever we need an idea, we’ll pick one and do it.”

“We’re going on more than one date?”

“I’ll treat you real nice,” she says through a Southern drawl, pumping her eyebrows.

I cover my mouth with a hand, but the blush spreads too far above my cheeks.

“Practice makes perfect, Fletcher. It’ll be fun.”

“Okay, but I have one condition.”

“ Ooh , I live for a negotiation. Let’s hear it.”

“We only go on a date if you finish your material for the day.”

“Tough guy, eh?” She puts up fists and fakes boxing like Curly from the Three Stooges before breaking out into a spectacularly bright smile. “Deal.”