Page 88 of Curvy Girl Summer

His lips pulled into a smile before he took a swig of his drink. “It’s a secret family recipe. My grandma’s nickname was Sweetie. It’s her recipe.”

“This is really good,” I told him.

“You would do better on dates if you were like this.”

His random assessment kind of blindsided me, and I took a second to process it. Moving my glass to the side, I clasped my hands in front of me. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to help you out. Just…” He sighed, pushing hisdrink to the side as well. “Maybe you’re out of practice. Pretend I’m that giraffe ass—”

“No,” I interrupted, amused.

“Fine. The one with the wife—”

“No.”

“Okay, I’m going to be some random man you haven’t met yet.” When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “What is it going to hurt?”

I sighed. “Fine.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he started.

I pursed my lips. “Yeah, you, too.”

“Come on, Aaliyah. You said you already asked the basic questions before agreeing to meet with them. So, how do you want to start the conversation with them now that you’re on the first date?”

“I’d typically let him take the lead and initiate the conversation in person. How a man breaks the conversational ice tells me a lot.”

Ahmad nodded. “Okay… tell me about yourself. Tell me something you love about yourself. First thing that comes to mind.”

“I love my sense of style.” After the words left my mouth, I held up my hand. “And if you say some shit about me looking like Charlie Brown, I’ll air this bitch out.”

His head fell back as he let out a loud, hearty chuckle. “I’m not Ahmad right now. I’m your date. And your date will only say you look beautiful.”

“What do you love about yourself?”

“My sense of humor.”

With a dramatic sigh, I rolled my eyes. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, neither am I.”

Still laughing, he shook his head. “Let’s start again… What was the best and worst advice you’ve ever gotten?”

“Worst? To get on a dating app.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Aaliyah.”

“I stand by it,” I laughed. “What was your worst advice?”

He rubbed his hands together and then dropped them in his lap. “Play it cool.”

“Play it cool?”

“Yeah. Acting like I’m not affected by whatever is going on. Acting like I’m too cool and calm to act or react… or pursue. Middle school advice that I’m still outgrowing.”

I was intrigued.

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