Page 5 of Ditching the Dragon (Fated Dates)

Why do guys always try to make it some kind of exchange? All I wanted was a drink, maybe a dance, definitely not more dates—especially when I know for a fact Violet put “one night stand” as the parameter for partners in every app she downloaded.

“Actually, I’m getting a headache,” I reply.

“Perhaps some night air will clear it. You can sit in my Corvette for a few minutes.”

Spare me.That car is a red flag, not a green one, Daniel. Strike 8,231,590.

“I’m going to find my friend. Thank you for the drink and the conversation.”

“You’re leaving? I thought we were hitting it off. Your profile said you’re looking for a night of fun.”

Deep, meaningful breaths, Annie.

“My friend filled that out, not me.”

“Is your friend here drinking the drink I bought her?”

“I haven’t touched the drink you ordered, mostly because I don’t like straight vodka and you insisted on ordering for me.”

“Then I’ll buy you another.”

It takes every ounce of restraint in my limited reserve not to facepalm. My falsies would never survive a slap that hard.

“Can I be honest, Daniel?”

“Yes, it’s as big as you’re imagining.”

Oh, for the love of . . .

“It’s abundantly clear you’re overcompensating in that area.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me fine, Daniel. I’ll make a deal with you, though. If you can describe even one technique for getting a woman off, then we’ll exit that door and I’ll let you take me home in your Corvette.”

He splutters and coughs, barely making out an, “I, uh . . . ”

“No? No ideas? Have you ever found the clitoris, or is that as foreign to you as social cues?”

Daniel S., 28, software engineeris on his feet so fast, he knocks his barstool into the couple behind him.

“Enjoy your night alone, you frigid bitch.”

“Weak men always go forbitch. We see it as a compliment. You should work on your vocabulary while working on your game.”

To his credit, Daniel throws a five on the bar for a tip and storms off.

Good riddance. I thought he’d never leave me alone.

Another patron takes Daniel’s abandoned stool and makes no attempt to talk to me, thank the heavens. I could go back to Violet now, but I need a break from the constant stream of mediocre men.

“Another?” the grizzled old guy behind the bar asks. He’s been rushing back and forth to patrons since he returned, but he never strays more than a few feet from where I’m sitting. It’s starting to become unnerving, like maybe he knows something I don’t.

I scoot the still-full glass forward. “Nah. Mind if I park for a few minutes?”

He grunts, plants a lowball in front of me, and fills it with water from the soda gun.

“Thanks.”

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