Page 83 of I Won't Be In On Monday

"Hi, we're here to get some drinks and appetizers."

"Do you have a reservation?" the maître d’ asks.

He looks over at me and shrugs. "Nah, but can we still get a table?"

I stare at him in confusion. "I thought you said you got a reservation."

"Oh, I just said that. I wanted you to think that I was going to take you somewhere special, and then when I didn't have a reservation, I figured we'd go to my place or something. But now that I know that your wifey material, I will step it up."

I stare at him for a couple of seconds. "What are you talking about? I'm confused."

"I mean, when I met you the other night, you looked kind of cute, but nerdy cute, you know. Someone who might be down to fuck, but now that I see that you're actually a 10…" He gives a low whistle. "Well, I feel like you deserve a drink in a place like this."

"But the me you met in the bar didn't?"

"Don't get me wrong, girl. You were cute. That's why I asked you out. But you were not looking banging like this."

I stare at him for a couple of seconds and realize that I don't find any of his words a compliment.

The maître d’ looks at me and then looks at him. "We do have an open table, but you may have to wait about fifteen minutes. Is that okay?"

"Sure," Marco says and pulls me to the side. "So, Juniper, what was up with the outfit the other night? Were you trying todress down to see if men would find you attractive while looking dumpy?”

“Sorry. You think I’m dumpy?”

“No, I don’t think you’re dumpy at all. You’re looking hot as hell, girl. I’m just saying the other night when I met you at the bar, you were funny and kind of cute, and I was feeling horny. So I was like, you know what? She seems like she would be down to have some fun." He grins. "And now I'm like shit, maybe we can have a bit more than fun."

"A bit more than fun?" I raise a single eyebrow at him. I want to scream. I don't know how he knew, but Remington was right. Marco is a douchebag, an absolute douchebag.

"So, let's just forget that and start over again," he says. "I'm Marco. I'm a waiter, and perhaps soon to be your next lover."

"Yeah, about that. Would you excuse me? I'm just going to go to the restroom," I say, and I don't wait for his response before I hurry away. "Where's the restroom, please?" I ask a cute waitress, and she points me to the other side of the restaurant. I hurry inside into a stall, close it, and sit on the toilet, taking a couple of deep breaths. I know I should feel like a million dollars. I should be happy that men are finally noticing me and using words like beautiful about me, but I'm starting to realize that sometimes the grass isn't always greener. I actually prefer being invisible. I’d rather have conversations with men who value my mind and aren't just trying to get into my pants because they think I’m hot. I realize that I don't mind not being hot. Not the way I thought I did.

My phone beeps, and I pull it out of my handbag, hoping it's not Marco wondering where I am. I'm surprised to see it's from Remington. I read it quickly.

I hope your date is everything you dreamed it would be,it says, and I scowl at the text.

It is, I respond quickly.

He responds right away.Yeah, right.

What does that mean?

You're texting me back right now.He has a smiley face next to his text.

So?

So if you were having a great date, you wouldn't be texting me right now.

I stick my tongue out at the phone and don't respond. He's right, of course, but I don't want him to know that. I stand up and open the stall door and walk outside. There's no way I want to continue the date with Marco. I just want to go home, watch TV, eat ice cream, and possibly cry and dream about Remington and all the ways that he made me orgasm nights before. My phone beeps again. It's Remington.

Hey, I didn't mean to upset you.

You didn't,I respond quickly.

So how's the date going, then?

I bite down on my lower lip. I don't want to tell him that it's shit, but I also don't want to lie.

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