Page 12 of The Boyfriend List
He sighs. “Can I see your list?”
“No!” I don’t know why I yell that syllable like he just asked for my firstborn child and my social security number. But the idea of London seeingmy list makes me feel strangely vulnerable. Like he’d see right through me and tell me something I don’t want to hear.
Probably something straightforward and practical, likewhere are you going to find a man who rides horses in L.A.?
Does he have to know how to ride horsesandsurf?
What if he hates SB19?
But another part of me wonders if Londoncouldmeet all the qualities on my list. And that confusing thought is definitely another reason he should never see it.
“Okay.” London sets down his butter dish, holding up both hands in an ‘I surrender’ motion. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to, Ria. I was just curious.”
“Why?” The question tumbles from my lips before I can stop it. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. “I mean, you haven’t dated anyone in a while. What’s up with that?”
“I’m busy,” he says. “Plus, I’m not interested in having kids.”
“Maybe, but there are women who aren’t interested in having kids. I’m sure they’d be happy to date you.”
He shrugs and paints more yellow dots on his purple stripes.
“You’ve never had a relationship that lasted longer than two months in all the time I’ve known you.”
“That’s not true,” he rebuts automatically. “What about Jessica Palmer?”
“You started dating her on Martin Luther King Day and then broke up on Valentine’s Day. Which was incredibly cruel, if you ask me.”
“I just forgot that it was Valentine’s Day! And that’s basically two—I mean, one—month.”
“No. That was the longest relationship you’ve ever had. Also, how do youforgetthat it was Valentine’s Day?”
“She kept asking me if I had any plans for the fourteenth, and I couldn’t think of anything so I just said I would surprise her.”
“Well, you surprised her alright.” I snort. “You broke that girl’s heart.”
“That was in freshman year of university. I’ve changed.”
“Then go on. Date someone for more than two months.” I’m not sure why I’m egging him on so much. Probably so he’ll stop annoying me about my love life.
“How about this,” he says. “I’ll date someone for more than two months if you meet and are in a relationship with a man who fulfills every quality on your boyfriend list by August 1st.”
That gives me approximately four months to find the guy who checks all my boxes. How hard could it be?
“It’s a deal.” I reach across the table to shake his hand… and upend the bowl of water we were dipping our paintbrushes in.
It spills directly onto his lap. Panicking, I seize handfuls of paper towels from the stack by the sink near us.
I’m shoving wads of paper towels onto his khaki pants when the realization hits me.I’m touching London Young’s thighs.
“Um…” I snatch my hand back like it’s on fire. London jolts up from his wet chair and grabs more paper towels to clean up the mess. Red tinges his cheeks. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. Just—no joking about how I wet my pants, okay? I think it might get in the way of my dating someone for more than two months.”
“You mean it would put adamperon your love life?” I say. “Because your pants are—“
“Damp, I get it.” He shakes his head, but can’t disguise the grin spreading across his face. I don’t miss the way his now-wet pants are clinging to his thighs. Why does a man who works a desk job have such muscular quads?Does he play badminton or secretly compete in powerlifting competitions? “That’s an awful pun.”
“Seriously, though, I’m sorry about your pants.” I gesture toward the now-flooded table. “And everything else.”
