Page 42 of Falling in Love with Two

What would it be like to date someone like Dylan, though? Would he be all sweet and responsible? Would it be an equal partnership? Would he make me feel like I was worth more than a good fuck?

Maybe I’m putting him on a pedestal because I know I’ll never see him again. But it’s nice to believe that he’s a genuinely good guy. It will give me something to think about when I need to feel all warm and fuzzy.

I’ll have my thoughts and will stay the fuck away from him because I’m sure I’d be the mistake he dated if he got to know me.

Besides, a guy as smooth as that? I’m sure he’s already moved on by now. I’m probably the furthest thing from his mind.

thirteen

Come Again?

Dylan

“So, what do you like to do for fun?” the cute blonde sitting across the table from me asks.

Her name is Stacy, and it’s our first—and maybe our last—date. We met in the frozen food aisle of the grocery store, and she asked if I’d like to have dinner. In an attempt to get Leah off my mind, I agreed.

Now that I’m here, though, I miss her even more.

Stacy seems nice enough, but we are in the awkward small talk portion of the date, and it’s almost painful. We don’t seem to have a ton in common.

“I like to watch movies,” I tell her.

“Oh, I love a good Rom-com,” she beams.

Not really my cup of tea, but it’s at least something in common.

“I also like to play football on the weekends.”

Her face scrunches up. “Sounds dangerous. Do you ever get hurt?”

“Not really. Just some bumps and bruises.”

She sips her iced tea. “I’ve never understood the appeal of football. A bunch of big men tackling each other to get a ball? I just don’t get it.”

Oh, yeah. This is going swimmingly.

Changing the subject, I ask, “What do you do for work?”

“Right now, I’m working at a shoe store, but it’s a temporary thing.”

Before I can ask any follow-up questions, she says, “Can I say something?”

I take a sip of my Coke and wish I’d gotten something with booze in it. “Go for it.”

“I’m looking for more. I’m looking for the one. I’m ready for all of it—marriage, babies, the works. I’m ready to settle down in a cute little farmhouse. I want to stay home, raising babies while my husband brings home the bacon. I’m ready for the white picket fence life.”

Hearing her say she’s ready to settle down should make me happy. That’s what I’ve been waiting for, right? A chance at a future of something real rather than just meaningless sex?

But the truth is that I feel absolutely nothing for this woman. And her coming on this strong doesn’t do anything to help that fact.

“Did I freak you out?” She asks when I go quiet.

“Uh, no,” I say. “I guess part of me wants those things too.”

Some of them, anyway. I’m not sure the whole thing sounds appealing to me.

“Stacy, how old are you?” I ask, thinking she has to be younger than me.

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