And people called us jackasses.
At least we knew that all women had something to offer, regardless of how oddly shaped the package might be. There was always something. Always.
“And?” I prodded further.
“She’s a bit on the short side. So is Romeo.”
“Sexual experience?”
“She’s had two partners and marked both down as bad.”
“That may be a problem if he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“We can always make sure to give him a few pointers or conveniently have a conversation while he’s grabbing his daily coffee about how to please a woman. If he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’ll stay and listen. If he does, he’ll walk off smirking.”
We both nodded.
I squinted as the sun started pushing through the clouds. “She’ll be easy then.”
“Yeah.” Lex scrolled through the next client. “This one actually just popped up on the site this morning, but since your schedule is kinda full, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to let her apply.”
“Do it.” I didn’t even look at the screen. “I have some time.”
“But—”
“I need to go.” I stood, stretching my arms and my coffee above my head. “Shell has an early class with Douchepants, and I’m supposed to walk her to it while carrying her books, then kiss her on the forehead.”
“Tale as old as time, my friend.” Lex let out a halfhearted laugh. “It’s not the tongue kissing that gets the guy to notice.”
“Nope.” I fist-bumped him and started walking off. “It’s the gentle kiss.”
“It’s always the gentle kiss,” Lex yelled after me.
I had a sneaking suspicion that once we graduated and this shit went viral, Facebook was going to try and buy us out for a billion dollars.
CHAPTER SIX
The UW campus was buzzing with excitement. Students shuffled past one another as the wet morning mist hung in the air. Just another reason I loved Seattle—the weather was crisp, full of promises.
Shell gripped one of my hands as we stopped in front of one of the business buildings. I used my free hand to wave at Gabi as we passed by. Her eyes locked on mine. It was times like these that I was convinced I could read women’s thoughts just by staring at them—and I was the only lucky bastard who could do it.
See? Superhero.
Her look said that.
Asshat, another one? Already? Didn’t you just get done helping out that chick last week with the sob story about how she really wanted world peace but nobody ever took her seriously because she has a nervous laugh?
Stella had been an easy one. She took four days. Dude didn’t even know what hit him. One minute they were just friends. The next, I saw his car parked outside her apartment all . . . night . . . long.
“Gross,” Gabi had said. “You were doing recon during their sexcapades?”
“I’d like to call it research,” I said.
“Didn’t she laugh at his dad’s funeral?”
“Right. It’s a nervous laugh, and it’s a real thing.”
Another eye roll. “Lunch later?”
“Sure thing.”
“Have fun saving the world, one girl at a time.”
“Don’t I always?”
Okay, so maybe she didn’t say “Have fun saving the world.” I may have exaggerated that part for my own benefit.
“I’m nervous,” Shell said, squeezing my hand. “What if he doesn’t notice me again? Or worse, what if this doesn’t work, and—?”
“You read our stats. When has it ever not worked?” I took a deep breath. “That’s why we give you our success rates along with the FAQ sheets, so you know without a doubt that what we do works. But you have to follow the rules, understand?”
Shell bobbed her head. Her new haircut did wonders for her face, and her bangs brought out a cute trendy side of her that Mr. Barista would totally dig, if he recognized her in the first place. I made sure to give her pointers on what to wear, but I always—and I do mean always—told the girls one thing: A girl should never change herself for a guy. Ever. And if she did? Then they weren’t meant to be. We helped improve what they already had, but we never changed them.
Though thanks to Lex, we usually knew if it was going to be a bad match before it happened, and we very strategically steered those girls toward more successful matches.
All in a day’s work.
Jealous Barista rounded the corner and was just about to look our way.
“There he is.” I stopped and pulled Shell against me. “Smile.”
“I’m trying.”
“You look nervous.”
“I am nervous.” Her lower lip trembled slightly.
“Hey, hey.” I cupped her face. Flirting was always more realistic when they were nervous, because nerves could also appear to be tenderness, trust, love. “You’ll do just fine.”