Page 5 of Knot Your Bridezilla (High Fructose Corn Syrup Verse #2)
AVRIL
No part of me was willing to run the risk of going on another date with a guy like Mark. I allowed myself to be a lot more choosy. It helped that I had another five hundred matches on my dating app. Ignoring all the alphas, I took a hard look at the handful of betas, who matched with me.
I had a good feeling about tonight. There was just something in Peter’s expression that seemed wholesome. It would honestly shock me if he mentioned anything about stocks, or followed any advice that came out of the lips of a Podcast bro.
The date was off to a fine start. Peter arrived right on time. I was snuggled nice and comfy against velvet cushions with my favorite drink in hand when he strode into The Thirsty Pearl.
I waved him over, quickly appraising how real-life Peter matched up to his profile.
Alright. So far, so good. Peter wasn’t tall, but he was tall enough that I would be at least the same height in my heels. He was dressed pretty casually for a date, just in a simple graphic-T and jeans that clashed with my satin A-line skirt and silk blouse. But at least he didn’t look horrible.
He smiled and complimented me, and everything seemed to be going normally… at least until we got to ordering.
I was focused on keeping my blushing under control as Sexy David flashed me his best customer service wink. Jeez, the man just looked at me and I melted.
Peter ordered a simple Alfredo dish, and water with a lemon . He said it like, “don’t forget to add a lemon,” as if that made the drink special somehow, with the fancy little citrus wedge.
I ordered the usual—my chicken caesar salad—and the smile dropped right off of Peter’s face. He didn’t even try to hide it when he shook his head. Uhh, Peter had to have a reasonable explanation for this, right? “Are you vegetarian?”
“No, I don’t eat chicken.” He lowered his voice as if telling me an urgent secret. “It is not the way.”
Wait, the what ? The way to where? To the other side of the road, if this chicken tried to cross it?
Sexy David watched my interaction with my date with a frown. He shot me a look , asking me wordlessly if I wanted him to intervene. I shook my head subtly and waited until he reluctantly left the table to give the chef our order.
I was a big girl. I didn’t need any muscular bartender as backup—I could awkwardly eat chicken in front of my date without his support.
“What’s wrong with eating chicken?” Did I even want to know?
Peter looked around the Thirsty Pearl, even though it was rarely a packed venue to begin with, and this was a Tuesday night.
There was only one other couple, and they were seated all the way on the other side of the Pearl.
But it was hardly a good sign that Peter was making sure that he wasn’t about to be overheard.
Something shady was definitely about to go down.
“It’s part of the sacred texts. In the Second Genesis, chapter two, paragraph three. My true sons and daughters shall not eat of the flying beasts, for they roam closer to the Lord.”
“Uh huh.” I wasn’t super familiar with church stuff, but none of that sounded… like… normal. What religion had problems with chicken? I knew that some of them made bacon and shrimp forbidden, but this was a new one for me. “Second Genesis? Is that like Catholic?”
“No, it’s from the Revelations of the Great Prophet Steven Brown,” Peter was solemn, nodding gravely as if the words he’d just uttered should come with their own soundtrack from an epic Blockbuster trilogy.
“Actually, I think I might have heard something about the Stevie Movement.” It was in a warning email—about avoiding religious scams from cults.
He winced, staring at me with a pitying expression. “Yeah, you probably didn’t know, so I’ll give you a pass, but we find getting called Stevies offensive.”
“Oh.” What do you even say to that?
“I’m glad that I got a chance to tell you about all this now… especially away from that bartender and his immodest outfit.” Peter muttered, glaring in the direction David had gone with our orders, as if the man had done something to him personally.
“You think that the bartender is dressed… immodestly?” I didn’t have to look at David to recall exactly what he was wearing.
A long-sleeved button up, that was form-fitting.
The fabric hugged every inch of that chiseled body, giving just a hint of muscles in all the right places.
David wore coal gray chinos that were dressy and fitted enough to show off the generous curve of an ass that was nothing short of a work of art.
So Sexy David was immodest—in his long sleeves and dress pants?
In an outfit that covered almost every inch of his body? “How is it immodest?”
Okay, so I only mildly didn’t want to know about the chicken. I really didn’t want to know what this Peter guy found wrong with Sexy David’s wardrobe.
Peter sighed heavily, staring down at his folded hands, like the full force of Sexy David’s immodest outfit weighed heavily on him. “You just seem like such a lovely girl. I’d hate to see someone as beautiful and innocent as you lose their way… fall into the path of sin.”
“Uh huh.” How do you take back a question—before getting an answer? Was Peter really suggesting that Sexy David’s outfit would drag me into a world of sin?
I mean… it was sinfully delicious, but his apparel would only drag me into sin if I was lucky. Preferably at that point, those clothes would be sinfully arranged somewhere on the floor of his bedroom… or something.
Honestly, the only sinful part of this whole situation was the fact that David just seemed so damn perfect when dating him was out of the question. But just because his outfit was evil or whatever, didn’t mean that I wanted my date to go on telling me how the hot bartender’s outfit was evil.
“But when men don clothing, they must not wear excessive finery. That shows that their hearts are never with the Lord, but filled instead with themselves. The fabric holds the weight of all their ego.” Peter sighed, like he was exasperated with all these men who had the audacity to want to look nice.
So basically, the outfit that Peter chose for this date wasn’t a mistake; it was a direct instruction from the divine authority of some guy named Stephen Brown.
If I was understanding him correctly, Sexy David’s outfit was immodest…
because it was too sexy. The fact that he looked good meant his heart was like, ungodly or whatever.
Right.
“I see…”
“It is my dearest wish that you do see. That I can pull you away from this path of unrighteousness and lead you back into the light.” Peter’s eyes were wide and pleading. Begging me to let him save me.
Yeah, no.
If I were going to be converted into a cult, it would at least be one that let me dress cool and eat my damn chicken.
This had to be some kind of cosmic joke, right? Was online dating really this hard, or was I just extremely bad at picking out guys?
My spiraling thoughts were interrupted when David returned with our food. I smiled at him, letting my gaze linger for just a moment on his immodest outfit.
Making direct eye contact with Peter, I speared the biggest chunk of chicken from my salad and plopped it straight into my mouth, chewing with relish. Ignoring the fact that he got slightly tense, as if I was murdering the poultry right in front of him.
If I had to deal with another wasted date, I was at least going to enjoy the food.