Page 3 of Betting Brett

Ihaveadatewith a guy named John. He seems nice enough, and I won’t deny his picture is hot. I should be excited.

I’m full of conflicting feelings, and excitement is not really among them. Am I using this guy to try and move on from my crush on Brett? Maybe, but it’s too late now. Just being in Shafter Falls again brings up all the good memories Brett and I made together, which is a hell of a lot.

I stare in the mirror, looking over my outfit one more time. I look nice, but it’s obvious that I’m tense.

“Jesus…” I grumble to myself, running my hand through my hair nervously. I glance in the mirror again. “It’ll be fine.”

I shake the thoughts away as I prepare to leave for my date. I live close enough downtown that it’s easier to walk. I’m set to meet him at the Italian restaurant, which is pretty much the only spot in town for a date.

I chuckle to myself as I remember going there before prom. I went stag, but Jen and Brett were happy to have me along. I was used to being the third wheel with them, and they made sure never to make it awkward.

I swing the door open, feeling a fuzzy nostalgia. It looks exactly as I remember it: black vinyl booths, red checked cloths on the tables, with the classic Chianti bottles used as candle holders. I love that some things don’t change. I look around, but I don’t see John yet. The staff is different, which is expected. The host up front looks like a high schooler, and she’s chipper as she leads me to a table. I send a quick message to John so he knows where to find me.

As I sit at the table and wait, my nerves just get worse. It’s the anticipation that’s getting to me, the uncertainty. I’m not even sure I want to be on a date, but I can’t just sit around and make cow eyes at Brett for the rest of my life.

After a few minutes, I see a tall blonde man walk in. Our eyes meet, and he smiles at me. My initial thought is that I’m glad he’s the same guy as his pictures. You never quite know when it comes to dating apps.

“Andy?” John asks as he walks over to the table. I offer a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as forced and awkward as it feels.

“That’s me,” I reply. He slides the chair out and settles across from me. “Thanks for, uh, meeting me.”

That's really smooth, Andy. I almost roll my eyes at myself. I sound like a total dweeb. I should probably do more dating if this is the best I can do.

“No need to thank me,” he responds, but he still has a soft smile. “I’m just glad to find a decent date around here. There are slim pickings.”

“Ha, tell me about it,” I reply. He’s not wrong. “I just moved back here after… God, over a decade now. There are a lot fewer options than in, you know, an actual city.”

We’re interrupted by the waiter asking for our drink orders. John orders a bottle of red wine for us. I hate red wine, but I keep my mouth shut. It would’ve been nice if he asked me, but I try to stay positive.

The waiter leaves, and John launches into a monologue about what he does for a living and how many people report to him. I nod in all the right places, but I’m already pretty sure this date is a waste of time.

When the waiter returns with the red wine, I put on a fake smile and accept the glass. I stare at it for a minute, bracing myself before I take a sip. I try not to wince.

“Pretty good for a house red,” John comments. “Don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” I lie and take another sip. As if it isn’t bad enough that I’m not remotely enjoying it, my mouth dries up. I grab my water and sip it to dissipate the dryness and taste.

We go through the motions of small talk, asking questions like ‘What do you do for work?’. I hate small talk, honestly. It bores me. One of the reasons I’m glad to work from home is the lack of small talk with coworkers. I look over the menu as we talk, more interested in that than the conversation.

When the waiter returns for our orders, John orders an appetizer for us. Once again, he doesn’t ask me. I shrug it off. As we wait, the small talk continues. I’m resigned to the fact that there’s no “spark” between us.

It’s odd because he’s definitely attractive. By all conventional standards, he’s hot. He’s tall and muscular with a chiseled jawline. His eyes are a deep blue, and he has a great smile. I should be attracted to him, but it’s just not there.

“Andy?” I look up as he says my name. I didn’t realize I was lost in thought. I actually have no idea how long I was zoned out.

“Oh, sorry,” I try to throw a laugh in there, hoping it doesn’t sound too fake. “What were you saying?”

I focus on the conversation again, keeping a polite smile on my face and nodding along. When the food arrives, it’s a relief. It provides a nice distraction to dig into our food.

I ordered the pesto pasta, and it tastes exactly like I remember it. It was my go-to back in high school. I wonder if it was a good idea to order it, honestly because the familiar taste brings back a memory of being here with Brett.

“Jen’s not coming?” I ask as I plop into my seat across from Brett. He meets my eyes, and I have to look away before I get lost in his gaze. He has the prettiest brown eyes. They’re a light honey color, and in the sun, they look golden.

“Nah,” Brett shakes his head. “She’s got a family thing. It’s just you and me. She told me to tell you hi, though!”

Of course, she did. She’s a sweetheart, and she seems to make Brett really happy. I look back towards him. I ignore the pang in my heart and give him a big smile. It’s not forced. Being with him always makes me smile.

“Tell her thanks for me,” I move the menu aside, not finding it necessary to look over it. Brett does the same. “Let me guess. Bolognese?”

---