Page 57 of The Accidental Dating Experiment
“And bossy,” I say.
“You like bossy.”
I really do. I scoot over on the outdoor sofa and sit on his lap, grabbing my tablet to show him my new picks. But a funny thing happens as I scroll through Date Night options. Monroe wraps his arms more tightly around me. He growls into my neck a little more. He kisses my shoulders more intensely.
He’s marking me even as I pick the next man.
His name is Dashiell; he’s thirty-four and he’s a brewer. “Even you need to be okay with that,” I say to him, doing my best to be undeterred by his possessive affection. “Plus he plays softball in a recreational league. That’s giving me Elodie and Gage vibes.”
He cracks up. “Yes, he’ll be just like our friends.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “What do you think about him?”
“Tell me what you like about him,” he says, putting on his shrink hat as he turns the question around.
I’ve given it some thought. And I’ve considered the lesson I learned from the Jared date, which was not to overlook douche vibes in the name of giving someone a chance. No douche vibes allowed from here on out. With this in mind, I believe this new guy has real promise.
“Brewers must know a little something about chemistry, so there’s that. Plus, men not having enough male friends is like an epidemic we address on the podcast a lot, but this guy clearly has plenty, since he plays softball in a rec league. Also, his arms are probably real muscly.”
“You like muscles,” he says, a little amused, but perhaps a little envious at the same time.
I squeeze his biceps. “Yes.”
“Good.”
But I want more than a good. I want to know his actual take on this guy. “Okay, serve it up. He doesn’t have douche vibes like Jared, so what’s your problem with him?”
“That would ruin the integrity of the experiment.”
A laugh bursts from me. “You ruined the integrity of the experiment last night when you fucked me.”
His arms band around me even more tightly. “Fine,” he says, begrudgingly. “If you must know, here’s my take. Beer and ball games, really? What would this guy even talk to you about?”
“I like baseball,” I insist.
“Do you?”
I huff. “I like going to games with friends, okay? But that’s close.”
“Sure, in the way cars are close to bikes. You use them to get around. My point is you can put a hipster veneer on it, but it seems this guy still wants to live like he did in college.”
I gasp. “No! You’re looking at him through your…your…your shrink lens.”
“Yes. Yes, I am,” he says, laughing, but then the laughter fades and he shoots me an earnest look. “But you said not to role-play too hard, so I’ll be more subtle in my character acting when you go out with Dashiell tomorrow.”
I suppose that’s all I can ask for.
He leans in to kiss me, but before he can destroy my panties even more, his phone chimes with an alarm. With a groan, he says, “I need to go play golf with my dad.”
It sounds like he’d rather spend time hanging out with Real Jared than see his father. “Sorry you don’t get along with him,” I say, my heart hurting for the man.
“Yeah, me too.”
We untangle from each other, and he heads into the house. I go inside, too, and resume painting. Fifteen minutes later, he returns, freshly showered and dressed in khakis and a trim polo, looking too hot for words.
Wait. I do have words, after all. “Can you ruin the integrity of the experiment again tonight?”
His eyes flash with dirty thoughts. “I can, and I will.” He nods to the room, shifting gears quickly. “I’ll finish painting this tomorrow. You should stop and…relax. Enjoy Darling Springs. Or take a nap. Maybe a bath.”