Page 70 of Scoring Chances
“Your favorite author… today?”
“Oh… um…” I rub my forehead. “It’s hard to pick just one you know. I love different ones for different reasons.”
My phone dings in my lap and I see Joshua’s name flash on the screen.
“Yeah, I’m the same way,” Declan continues. He goes on about how he loves the same authors across their multiple pen names and lists several of them but it’s hard to focus when my phone feels like it’s burning a hole into my thigh.
I glance down at it briefly as he’s talking.
Joshua
If you’re reading this right now… you must not like him. Move on.
Ugh. How rude of him to insert himself into my date. Before I can pick it up to say anything, another text comes through.
Joshua
Just trying to be a good wingman, Princess. *winking emoji*
I turn the ringer off on my phone and set it face down on the table.
Declan is now talking about how he’s just entered his psychological thriller era and how he can usually figure out the plot before the twenty percent mark of the books. He says it keeps him sharp.
“Yeah, I’m not really into thrillers.”
“What’s your preferred genre?” he asks. Pencil in hand, ready to write down what I’m about to say. Before the words come out of my mouth, Angie rings the gong and the conversations all halt around us.
“You may now switch,” she announces, cheerfully.
Declan bows his head the same way he did when first introduced himself. I smile as he gets up to leave.
I write his name down on the card and check the box marked no.
Sweet guy. But Joshua was right. He couldn’t hold my attention.
The next man to sit in front of me, has chocolate skin. His beard is perfectly trimmed and his fade looks like it was done by a celebrity hairstylist. His cologne hits me first. Very manly.
He lowers himself into the seat. His nametag says, Edison. It suits him.
“Hello, there,” he says in a surprising British accent.
“Hello,” I say. I’m not even trying to smile. It’s happening naturally. “Interesting name you have.”
“My mates call me Eddie. Not as interesting.”
I chuckle. “Mine call me Sid.”
He thinks for a moment. “Like the giant sloth from–”
“Ice Age, yeah,” I finish for him. We both chuckle.
“So Sid, do you always meet men at bookstores in five minute increments?”
I smile, showing my teeth. “No, it’s my first time.”
“Ah, mine too. Meeting women… in a bookstore… like this,” he slaps a hand to his face. “My, you just put me in a state now, din’t you?”
I bite my lip and try to hold back a smile. My phone vibrates on the table. I let it.