Page 21 of Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

“It starts at seven, but you can’t pick me up. I don’twantyou to pick me up.” The annoying grade school teacher in me taunts me on the can’t part. I’m not sure why anyone would choose toharpendlesslyon thatonecorrection,though. Also, thereissuch a thing as can’t.

Yeah, I went there.

“I can meet you there then.”

“Hmmpf,” I harrumphed.

“A question sheet isn’t going to cut it. If we can’t even stand to be in the same room together, it’s going to be very obvious.”

“You showing up with all my friends is going to make obvious something I don’t want to be made obvious. It will get back to my family, then it will get back here, and then it will be everywhere like a deluge of horror.”

“We could go somewhere private. I could meet you there after the fundraiser.”

“Private? No thanks. That sounds like a good way to get murdered.”

I think I’ve finally exceeded the vast levels of patience he pretends to have. He didn’t have much in the restaurant the night he found out I wasn’t Genevieve. Granted, I was a terrible date, so he had a right to be surprised and annoyed.”

“Crab legs.” It’s the first thing I think of.

Those crab legs were divine. Maybe even more divine than Mont’s legs. Not that I look at them. Seriously, I don’t. I don’t know the first thing about the shape of his posterior region, and I refuse to call it an ass. Calling it an ass makes me sound like I do know all about it. Ass gets fixed in the mind. Ass means hard-as-rock butt cheeks in dress pants that always sit with the exact amount of epicassness.

“You’d like to go for crab legs?”

“Yes?” I suppose that shouldn’t sound like a question. It’s not the crab legs I’m unsure of. It’s the word like in that sentence. Would I like to go for them? Yes. Alone. Even if being alone with a giant pile of crustacean appendages piled on a plate might look questionably silly.

Alas, a deal is a deal.

“Great. I know this amazing place.”

“Can it not be a five-star restaurant? I don’t have the budget for that,” I tell him.

“I’m paying. Obviously.”

“There’s nothing obvious about it. You don’t have to pay for me. You’re holding up your end of the deal, and I can hold up mine. I can pay my own way. So, if you can find a budget crab legs restaurant that isn’t going to poison us—because sometimes, budget can also mean eight days old and left out in the hot sun to age like not-so-fine old cheese—then I’m fine with that. Even if we were dating for real, I wouldn’t let you pick up my tab. At least not all the time. I don’t believe that’s right.”

“But you’re the one doing me a favor.”

“This isn’t a favor. It’s a deal. You do your part, and I do mine. Your part lasts indefinitely when it comes to this company, and mine lasts for another month, three weeks, and two days. Roughly. Give or take a day or two in there since some months have more or less days.”

“Still. When a man asks a lady out—”

“This isn’t the old days, unfortunately, cool as that would be. This is now, and I’m no lady. I might be a female, but I’m a female who says I can pay for my own crab legs. I want to pay for my own crab legs. Icanpay for my own crab legs. So just let me pay, and we won’t have an issue.”

“Will you walk out with them in your purse again?”

“This time, I’ll probably ask for a to-go container. I was sort of making a point last time and didn’t want to stick around long enough to ask for one. That was probably quite a scene. I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry. I found it quite entertaining.”

“No, you didn’t.” He didn’t. I know he didn’t.

“In hindsight.”

He still didn’t. “In hindsight, I give myself two cringes for that.”

“Are you apologizing?”

I hate that he seems shocked. I can admit my wrongs. “No. But it’s done, and this meeting will be much better. Smoother. No lies, and no getting grouchy. Just a sheet of facts and learning how to react to each other’s body language and cues.” That’s probably the best way I can term that.

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