Page 22 of Fumbled Into Love

The answer to that last question is, no, I am not okay. My brain is short-circuiting, too full of anxiety and nerves to function in any capacity.

“You look nice tonight.” I force back my wince at how stiff the compliment comes out and how unnatural it sounds. I can’t even compliment her properly. If I had control of my tongue, I would say that she looks radiant and that from the moment I saw her, I was completely and utterly entranced by her beauty.

Instead, I’ve reverted to caveman speak. Girl. Pretty. Like.

“Uh, thanks.” Nathalie sips her wine. Her eyes scan the menu once more before they dart to mine. “Deon…”

“What?”

I am not a fan of the look on her face. One of confusion mixed with disdain. Is the menu not to her liking? She mentioned she enjoyed Italian food, so I found the nicest place in Seattle with a reservation available. “Yoursheet,” I refuse to say the word ‘questionnaire’ out loud, “didn’t mention food allergies.”

Her brows furrow.

“I’m not allergic to anything.” I pocket the information, “But this place is way too expensive.”

“It’s fine.” I wave her off. “I have the money.”

Savannah preferred places like this, where the serving sizes were small and the bill was large.It’s upscale and classy, Deon.

“That isn’t the point.” Nathalie’s head tilts and I fight the urge to squirm. Her gaze is unnerving. She blinks a few times, before closing her menu with athud. “This is weird.”

Her laugh is airy and soft, and it settles something inside me.

“It’ssoweird,” I admit. Releasing a deep breath, I admit a small truth. “I haven’t done this in a while.”

“What? Admitted to the whole world you have a girlfriend who doesn’t exist then create a ruse to fake-date? I hope not or else I’m notspecial.”

A small smile pulls at my lips.

“No, though that is also a first for me. I mean going on a date.”

“That’s not shocking,” she says with a teasing smile. “I don’t date,” Nathalie mocks, deepening her voice. “There is no time for love in my life. Only football.”

My jaw falls.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes, you do.”

I frown. Is that how she perceives me? As a closed-off, hard-ass who doesn’t believe in love?

Trust me, believing in love is not the issue. It’s falling in love with the wrong person.

“If it makes you feel better, this is my first date ever. You’re number one as far as first dates go.”

“This is your first date…ever?”

My eyes bulge from my skull.

Not a chance.

I search her face for any hint of humor but her eyes cast downward.

Oh, wow. Okay. Wow.

She’s never been on a date?

Well, I’ve royally fucked up her first date. She'll remember this as the worst first date ever and I will forever be associated as the ‘shitty-first-date-guy’. I don’t want to be that guy. I want to be the ‘spectacular-first-date-guy’.

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