“You’re not stupid,” Hope objects.
“If anything, you’re too smart,” Carin says. “Your brain is your biggest enemy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you think too much. We all saw your face just now—you like this guy. You really like him.”
“He scares me,” I blurt out.
Three sets of eyes blink in surprise.
“He’s too perfect, you guys.” I groan again. “And I’m a total mess most of the time. I’m scared that if he gets to know me better, he’ll see that.”
“So what if he does?” Hope counters.
My teeth dig into my bottom lip.
Carin touches my arm. “You need to go out with him. Seriously, Sabrina, you’ll regret it if you don’t. And the one thing I know you hate is regrets.”
She’s right. I always kick myself after I let an opportunity pass me by.
“Tell you what,” she says when I hesitate for too long. “Let’s make it a double date.”
“A double date?” I echo weakly.
“Oooh, threesome.” Hope waggles her brows. “Kinky.”
“Calm your tits, Hopeless,” Carin orders. “I’m talking normal, wholesome double date.”
I think it over. It does take a lot of the pressure off. “Okay… I can do that.”
Carin beams. “Good. Now text him before you change your mind. Oh, and whoever you pair me up with better be hot. And make sure he knows how to use his tongue.”
“I’m standing right here, you know.” D’Andre waves one meaty hand in the air. “How ’bout you pervs quit objectifying my man clan?”
Hope giggles.
“Who’s objectifying?” Carin replies. “I’m just saying I want a guy who’s good with his tongue. That should be the prerequisite for every member of your ‘man clan,’ D. Like in middle school, they should teach reading, writing, and really good tongue movement.”
“Girl, I think you can get locked up for those thoughts,” he warns.
Hope continues to giggle uncontrollably for another minute before gaining enough composure to reach over and squeeze my arm. “This’ll be good for you.”
“If it crashes and burns, do I get to say I told you so?”
“I’ll write it across my forehead in black magic marker for you,” she vows.
As my friends head for Hope’s car, I gather all the courage I can find and text Tucker before I talk myself out of it.
If I say yes, it doesn’t mean anything.
His answer is immediate.
Him: It means yes.
Me: But I’m not committing to anything beyond this one date.
Him: Kinda presumptuous, no? I only asked for one date.
I stare at my phone. Had I read this whole thing incorrectly? The guy talked about love at first sight, wanting to be married and have kids, and he only wants to see me one more time and fuck me?
Him: Kidding, darlin. I’m holding back the marriage proposal until the 3rd date. When?
Me: I’m bringing my friend Carin and u need to bring the hottest guy u know.
Him: I’m the hottest guy I know. Will look for 2nd hottest guy on campus. She have any preferences?
Me: Someone who knows how to use his tongue.
Him: Again, that’d be me. Not sure how I’ll find out how good the other guys are w/ their equipment. Not a topic that comes up a lot.
Me: That’s the price of my time.
Him: On it.
There’s a short delay, and then another message pops up.
Him: You won’t regret this.
*
I have the perfect date idea, Carin texts an hour later. It’s eleven and I’m getting ready for bed because I have to be up at four to sort mail. The text is followed up with a slightly blurry pic. I pinch and zoom until I manage to make out a few words.
Me: Paint night out? I have no artistic skills. Even my stick figures look terrible. U know this. U mocked my hangman once.
Her: That was NOT a hangman. That was…I mean, the arms shld come out from the side of the body, not the neck. Anyway this is EZ. It’s like a paint by numbers thing. We drink/paint/enjoy ourselves. If the date is crappy then u and I can drink ourselves into oblivion.
Me: Fine. When is it? I’m only available Sun, M, W, Thur.
Her: I know. It’s why I picked this, dummy. It’s every other Sunday, as in tomorrow night.
How would I know? The picture she sent is small and blurry and could say it’s a church group meeting on Saturday morning.
Me: I’ll see if T is available.
Her: Bet u he is.
I’m not taking that bet. Instead, I text Tucker.
Me: You in 4 some paint by numbers?
My phone dings the message alert just as I’m pulling on my sleep shirt and boxers.
Him: Is that like naked Twister?
Me: I have no clue.
I send him the picture. Maybe he can make some sense out of it, because I sure can’t.
Him: Was this taken with an actual camera or drawn by tiny leprechauns?
Me: Carin’s a scientist, not an artist. Btw did u find someone?
Him: Yes. My buddy Fitz is coming and b4 u ask, I have no idea re: his oral skills. But he’s hella smart, has a mean slapshot, and I’ve never heard any complaints.
I take a screenshot of that text and send it to Carin.
Me: Is this OK?