Page 1 of The Boyfriend List
Prologue
“I’m never dating again.” I throw my phone across the room.
It lands in the lap of my friend, former lab partner, and current coworker, London Young. He’s sprawled on the beanbag chair in our law firm’s break room, eating fried rice and scanning a report on his laptop. I’m a corporate lawyer while he’s a tax lawyer, so we’re both pretty busy. But onlyhewould work during his lunch break.
London picks up my phone after arching an eyebrow at my declaration. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”
He glances at my phone, which is open to the dating profile of a man named Jeb. We’ve been talking for three months but have never met. Every time we picked a date to go out, he had an illness, a family emergency, or a last-minute work meeting. I thought he’d run out of grandparents’ funerals to attend.
Until today, when he admitted he was on Bumble to get over his ex-girlfriend, but she had just hit him up again. Soadios, Jeb, who “loves tacos, sarcasm, and women who don’t take themselves too seriously.”
London scans the messages between us with a grimace. “He sounds like a loser.”
“You’re right. What was I thinking, trying to date a guy namedJeb?” I frown. “Do you think Jeb is short for Jebediah?”
“I thought it was short for Jeberemiah.” London cracks a smile that makes his brown eyes crinkle behind his black-framed glasses.
He has an earnest, puppy-dog like face, and he usually wears oversized button-down Oxford shirts or even sweater vests. I think he tries to look unattractive on purpose. It isn’t working, because for as long as I’ve known him, he’s had many short-term relationships. And we met in our first year of college eight years ago.
London puts aside his laptop and starts typing on my phone.
“Hey! What are you sending to Jebob?”
“Jebob?” London snort-laughs, nearly choking on a mouthful of fried rice. He doesn’t actually choke, which I’m grateful for since it prevents him from spraying food all over my phone screen. “What kind of name isJebob?”
“You know, like Jacob, or kabob.Jebob.“ The text he’s typed sends with awhoosh. Groaning, I take my phone from him and read the messages.
Jeb
Sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work between us. I thought I was over my ex, but she just texted me again and said she wants to work things out. Peace out and I hope you’re day goes well.
Gloria
She definitely can’t fix your habit of stringing people along, since you guys seem to have that in common. But maybe she can teach you the difference between your and you’re.
“You know what, that actually makes me feel slightly better. Thanks, Manchester.” I delete the conversation and block Jeb.
London rolls his eyes at the nickname. Ever since I found out he and all his siblings were named after geographical locations, I’ve started calling him random British cities instead of his actual name. Being friends with him has expanded my knowledge of geography. “Maybe your problem with dating is that you’re approaching it all wrong.”
I eye him. “Says the guy who’s never had a long-term relationship for as long as I’ve known him.”
“I’m just saying, in the rest of your life, you’re so organized. You colour-code your calendar and your client files. But when it comes to dating, you throw spaghetti at the wall and hope it sticks.”
“What is the spaghetti in this analogy?”
London ignores me, continuing. “I mean, did you really think things were going to work out between you and a guy who ‘dreams of moving to Nicaragua and owning a pitbull’?”
I cringe as he reads the prompt off Jeb’s profile. “Maybe! I could learn to like pitbulls.”
“Gloria, you own pet fish.”
I amsonot a pitbull owner.
“Which you so kindly got for me!” I point out. Five years ago, he got me a tank after I had mentioned that rosy barbs were my favorite tropical fish.
“I just don’t think you’re going into this with any plan of what you want.”
An idea percolates in my mind as I check my watch. “I should get back to work so I can leave early.”
