Page 15 of The Valentine's Bet

Eliza:How was the first one?

Sighing, I text her back.

Me:Horrible. I think he hates me.

I don’t have a chance to read her reply before I’m joined by man number two, and this time, he smiles when he sits down.

“I’m Chris,” he says, extending his hand.

I take it, blushing. “Amy.”

Nowthisguy is cute. He’s got caramel-colored locks styled in a hipster cut to the side. He looks like a sexy librarian in his glasses and sweater—but one who works out.

Keep it together, Amy.

“So, how was your first date?” he asks, sipping his glass of wine.

“It was rough,” I admit. “We got off on the wrong foot, I think.”

He chuckles, and it rattles my heart in the best way. “Ah, well, good thing I came in to save the day.”

“Absolutely.” I grin, feeling all the things a woman should feel—I think. “So, what do you do for a living, Chris?”

“Well, I prefer not to speak about what I do for a living. I think that we too often place judgments on others based on their careers. No need to do that. I want to know whoyouare, Amy.”

I blink a few times. Okay, this guy is deep. I like that. “What would you like to know?”

“Well, for starters,what inspires you?”

Uh...

“I suppose I like to take walks and get fresh air.”

“That’s very shallow.” He chuckles. “Not much goin’ on up there, is there?” He points to his head. “Where are you from?”

“Chicago,” I say curtly.

“Makes sense.” He continues to laugh—like something I said is actually funny. “I’ve heard things about the women from Chicago.”

“Really?” I raise my brows. Maybe I shouldn’t discount him yet.

“Yeah, they put out,” he jokes, or at least, Ithinkhe’s joking. “Are you like most women from Chicago?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Good, I like that.” He grins. “But I’d love to put the theory to the test.”

“No, thank you.”

“Whatever,” is all he says before pulling out his phone and opening up Tinder. “It’s so hard to find a woman these days who’s willing to hook up with no strings attached.”

And then for the next twenty minutes, I proceed to listen to Chris vent about the lack of promiscuity from the women in New York.

Oh, and I learn that he still lives in his parents’ basement on the Upper West Side.

“Well, if you ever want to have some fun, look me up on Facebook,” he says as the bell chimes.

“Sure,” I mutter.

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