Page 30 of Perfect Boy

“My uncle Stewart smells his fingers.” I shrug. “To my knowledge, he hasn’t killed anyone yet. Then again, I’ve also never seen where he lives.”

Hunter’s lips form a flat line, and his eyes widen. “Note to self: don’t attend Watson’s family Thanksgiving unless I want to be slathered up like a turkey and chopped up by his creepy, finger-smelling uncle.”

I laugh lightly, bringing the beer to my lips that the bartender dropped off. That’s one of the perks of being a Wolf. I don’t have to ask for shit. It’s just given to me even if I maybe don’t want it.

I mean, heck, I planned on drinking water tonight.

When she stops in front of us again, we put in our order for some burgers and a few appetizers. Hunter and Link dive into a conversation about our upcoming game, but I can’t hear what they are even saying. Not really. Because my eyes have found her.

Ryann is perched at a small, round high-top table for two. From here, I can see her legs. Too much of her legs, and I know every other motherfucker in here can see them too. Her strawberry-blonde hair hangs in loose waves. Her lips are painted bright red. Like a cherry I want to taste.

A chick wearing tall black boots and a black leather skirt and white tank top stands in front of the crowd, holding a clipboard up. Once she seems to gain everyone’s attention, she yells out that they are going to start the speed dates. And when I see the line of dudes wrapped around the other side of Club 83, I feel my jaw tense, just knowing all of those fuckers will be sitting across from Ryann at some point tonight.

Without thinking twice, I stand up.

“Where are you going?” Hunter calls from behind me.

Looking over my shoulder, I smirk. “I’m going on a date.”

Ryann

Some days, I’m not all that thankful for a lot of things. Some days, I’m an ungrateful little bitch. But today, I’m thankful that speed dating means I only have to talk to the same dude for five minutes. But I’ll be honest; each date has been the longest five minutes of my entire life. I mean, dear Lord, where are these people coming from?

I don’t even know who the worst has been. It could be the one who told me my dress reminded him of his mother. I mean, ew. Or maybe the one who picked his nose in front of me. And if either of those wasn’t the worst, the dude who told me my eyes were too large and my freckles were weird could certainly be in the running.

So far, Hector, the nerdy-looking dude who loves Captain America and Starbucks, could possibly be the best one yet.

“Ryann?” A tall, extremely thin man, wearing a name tag that says Hue, repeats my name. “Ryann? Did you hear me?”

I force myself to focus on poor, sweet, innocent Hue. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

He opens his mouth to speak, and as if God actually does love me or something…the sound of the timer rings through the air, and I try my best to hide my smile.

Hue frowns, so I offer him a soft smile. “It was nice to meet you, Hue. Good luck on your dates.”

“Thanks,” he mutters before taking off, completely and utterly annoyed with me. And I guess I don’t blame him.

As I wait for my next suitor, let’s call him, I pull my phone out. But just as I start to scroll through my newsfeed, a deep voice sends my eyes flying upward.

“Ryann, is it?” Watson grins, pointing at my name tag. “How very nice to meet you.”

“You’re speed dating?” I gawk at him.

Pulling the chair out, he slides into it and gives me a confused look. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe we’ve met.” He holds his hand out. “Name’s Watson Gentry.”

I take his hand, and he grips it in his and gives it a tiny shake.

“So, Ryann, how’s your night going? Filled with lots of dates, I see.” He tries to hide the amused grin. “Lots of…interesting…dates.”

“Oh, you could say that,” I mutter. “And what about you? How’ve your dates been?” I say as he releases my hand. Tilting my head, I narrow my eyes. “Meet anyone interesting?”

Leaning in closer, he smirks. “This will be my first and last one, babe.” He eyes me over. “So, no need to be jealous, Ry baby.”

The audacity of this dude. “Why would I be jealous? You’re just my dance partner.”

“Your dance partner who you love to take advantage of in supply closets,” he drawls.

“Oh, right.” I roll my eyes. “I totally took advantage of you. You didn’t leap at the chance to have sex with me or anything.”

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