Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
A signing event.
I’m not sure what that is, but I’m assuming we’re going to go somewhere people can meet Dex in person and get stuff signed?
My friend Cora, a teacher who works with me at the elementary school, is meeting me for lunch today in the teachers’ lounge. Our little gatherings are a highlight of my day when we can coordinate them. She teaches fifth grade to my first, and we started at Scottsdale’s private Sage Brush Elementary at the same time, becoming fast friends.
And since we never have enough time to gossip in between class, when I mention I’m seeing someone, she literally spits out some of her tuna sandwich—which is disgusting all by itself, let alone the fact that some of it is sitting in small chunks on the table.
Gross.
“Dating someone? Say that one more time without smiling.”
“I . . . am dating. A guy.”
“You cannot drop the words casually like that when I ask, ‘So what’s new with you?’” Cora’s sandwich falls to the table. “I do not have time for you to play games with my anxiety levels.”
“I’m not!” I swear.
“So spill! Details, girl! Who is it?”
I play coy. “Someone I met on the Kissmet app.”
“Wait. Why am I only hearing about this now?” She takes a bite of sandwich and chews. “What else are you holding out on me?”
“Nothing.” Some things. “I wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to flake on me.”
She groans. “Don’t be the friend that starts ghosting because she met someone.”
“I haven’t been ghosting you! It’s just . . . been a whirlwind.” Total understatement.
Cora’s sandwich is suspended halfway to her mouth. It sags in her hand as she studies me. “Why has dating some guy been a whirlwind?”
Let’s see: How do I put this?
“I met him on a dating app, but he’s . . . kind of well known?” I give her a toothy Cheshire cat grin she cannot quite decipher.
“Well known? How?”
I explain how it went down when I first matched with Dex—how I thought he was a catfish; he had used all those professional football photos, nothing in his bio felt personal.
I assumed it was fake.
“I swiped on his profile so I could call him a liar and accuse him of being a catfish.”
“And . . . ?”
“He’s not. He’s the real deal.”
Cora leans forward and glances around the break room, lowering her voice to make sure no one else is listening. “Shut the fuck up. Are you serious?” She almost never curses.
“Yeah.” I’m trying my best to sound chill, as if I deliver this sort of news all the time. Fake it till you make it and all that . . .
“Who is it?”
“His name is Dex.”
“Dex, Dex . . .” She sets down her sandwich and wipes the crumbs from her palms. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
I don’t know if she’s a football fan, but I know her boyfriend is. I’ve listened to countless hours of her complaining about him ignoring her while he watches the games, so it’s not impossible that she would recognize the name.
“Um. He’s very popular—or so he says.”
“Oh my God, Margot. How are you sitting here casually teaching first grade like there isn’t some big hunky football guy falling at your feet?” She smacks the tabletop. “This is like every girl’s dream!”
“Surely not every girl’s dream.”
Eh. It’s certainly not mine.
The reality is, I have no desire to be surrounded by chaos and Goliath men, or women who chase those men. Not to mention Dex has flip-flopped about his feelings more than once. We haven’t committed to each other yet, but we are giving it a chance.
“The selfish part of me was curious to know what dating someone like that is like.” Not that I want to compare it to a science experiment, because that makes me sound like a selfish jerk. “He really is larger than life.”
Large, as in huge.
I’m picking at the slices of the apple I’m not craving, mulling over the idea of Dex while my friend drones on and on. Eventually she notices I’m not paying attention and gives the tabletop a few raps of her knuckles, the way we do with our classes to get their attention.
“You are so lucky.” She sighs. “I bet he’s so romantic. I thought Mark was so exciting when we started dating.” Another sigh. “Now he farts in front of me and scratches his nuts, and all the mystery is gone.”
Ew.
I don’t love that for her.
“You’re right—he’s not like anyone I’ve ever met.” Or dated. Or been in a relationship with.
Shit. He’s not even like anyone I’ve been in the same room with!
He’s the total opposite of Colton, who by comparison is conservative, buttoned up, and opinionated. A real turd.
Not that Dex isn’t opinionated . . . if he weren’t, he may have been more open minded to dating a single mom when we first matched.