Page 6 of How to Lose at Love

I mean honestly, come on. What’s a girl got to do to get laid around here?

“I have no idea why he asked me out in the first place, but I can assure you, if he got a boner every time he saw me, we’d have slept together by now.”

Great. Now I’m talking to myself.

Diegoisa catch. He is. But sometimes I’d rather come home and bathe a cat than sit through a date with him.Yawn.

He’s sweet, though on the shyer side. In great shape. Friendly.

Anyway, we’re taking it slow.

Super slow.

Like—at a glacial pace.

My friends told me to give the guy a chance, so I’m giving the guy a chance even though I’m still very undecided about him and where this is headed. Are we just wasting time, or is there potential here?

Can a relationship grow if there’s no zing or zap when you touch?

I grab my jacket off the chair when I breeze through the kitchen, slipping into a pair of comfortable boots. I have a long shift at the diner and will be on my feet the entire time, so the sweater and comfy shoes are a must.

“Please let us be busy tonight so I can keep my mind off things,” I mutter, grabbing my house keys off the hook and jamming them in my cross-body bag. Give the door a yank when I’m in the hall to make sure it’s good and locked.

Bzzt, bzzt.

My cell buzzes in my back pocket.

Diego:

Hey, whatcha up to?

Heading to work! You?

Just got done with practice. Jake is taking us for pizza.

Jake is his roommate and not a member of the team, but it seems like they spend a ton of time together.

Pizza? Yum, my favorite. What will you have on it?

Dunno. Meat lovers probs.

I rack my brain for something new to say. I’ve noticed Diego isn’t great about reciprocating questions, so the conversation usually dies unless I keep it going.

Another text comes through before I can send one off.

Gonna have to take a rain check for tomorrow.

He’s canceling?

Disappointment dips in my stomach. Tomorrow is Friday and the only night this week he had available to get together. I made reservations at a nice place, a moody steakhouse where we could talk and have a drink and possibly get romantic for like, the first time ever.

Guess not.

Oh. Okay, sure. I understand.

I understand? He hasn’t even told me the reason he can’t make it. Doesn’t offer an excuse.

Cool

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