Page 19 of Last First Date
And with that horrible memory at the front of my mind, I tell my mother I’m going to go ahead and text Hesse to ask him out for lunch. I’m definitely not good enough at wooing to make an actual phone call, but I figure if we’re eating a meal then we probably only have a portion of that time to spend on conversation. I can slip in a gala invite at some point, show up and wave to my parents a few times, and then that should be the end of it.
But of course, my mother has other plans for me. “Why don’t you take him dancing, darling?”
I choke at her words. “Dancing? Mother, no. Absolutely not. You know that I have two left feet. Maybe even three.”
Her tinkling laughter bubbles through the phone. “Don’t be silly. You and I both know there’s going to be dancing at the gala, and I expect you to make a good showing of it.”
Ugh. She makes it sound like I’m some sort of show animal on display, not an actual person. “Mother,” I heave out a breath. “You know I’m not good at that kind of thing. I barely made it through my debutante season because of all the required dancing.”
“Don’t be like that, darling. If you need some lessons, now is the time. The gala is in just a few more weeks and if you don’t dance, I’m going to be very disappointed in you.” And with that, she hangs up and texts me Hesse’s number.
Great. Not only do I need more wooing lessons but also dance lessons. Looks like it’s time for round two of massive awkwardness with Abernathy.
Nope, nope. The mere thought of Thomas Abernathy and all his sexy, male moodiness makes my palms sweat and my stomach knot up.
Let me do the easy part before I deal with the other man in my life. First, I’m going to text Hesse and ask him out.
Hey Hesse, it’s Darcy.
Nothing. I sit there staring at my phone with anxiety bubbling up in my stomach, willing him to hurry up and text back but then the damn phone rings instead.
Come on. Doesn’t he know the rules? You don’t just pick up the phone and call someone who’s texting you. Sheesh.
“Hey,” I say, probably sounding every bit as uncomfortable as I feel. “Hey, you.”
“Darcy.” His voice is buttery, soft. Even his words come out sounding like they’re wearing expensive leather.
“Yeah, hey.” Ugh. Third freaking time I’ve said hey and we’re only twenty seconds into this stupid conversation. I sound like the super awkward girl of his nightmares, no doubt.
I clear my throat and try to pretend like I can be normal on the phone. “So, I was just wondering about us.”
“Us?” he asks. Oh sweet Lord, this could not possibly be going any worse and yet it seems like I cannot actually force myself to die of embarrassment. “What about us?”
“Us, you know, getting together.” I want to smack myself in the face, but it’s too late and I’ve already basically made this sound like I’m proposing a booty call or something.
“You want to… get together?” I can’t quite tell if he’s going to laugh at me or if he’s just horrified, so I’d better wrap this up quickly. Then I can tell my mother that he said no and move on with my life. Not at the gala either.
“Um, well, I was thinking maybe you’d like to come to the gala with me. I suppose it’s a little sudden, but—”
“I’d love to, Miss Albrecht.”
Wait, what?
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said I’d love to be your date for the gala. I always attend the hospital’s fundraisers, and I heard that the Mayor will be there. He’s Trip Harrington’s son, you know.”
I pause, momentarily struck speechless by the sudden turn this conversation just took. Reed Harrington, our town’s mayor, is a genuinely nice person. Very competent at his job, and he seems to sincerely appreciate what his police and fire department do for Valentine.
On the other hand, his father, Trip Harrington, is one of the worst creatures to ever breathe and should be shunned by all of humanity. Yes, he’s as rich as it gets, but it’s because he’s evil. Evil as in he’s deliberately screwing over sick people to make more money.
Yet Hesse sounded like he was more impressed by Reed being related to that sack of crap Trip than anything Reed’s ever done for Valentine. Maybe it’s because rich people stick together or something like that.
I’ll have to ask Abernathy later, when I’m less angry at him.
“Oh, yeah. I guess I did know that about Reed.” Pause. Flinch. Pause some more. I have absolutely zero to say to Hesse that isn’t going to be super awkward. Especially when what he’s said is so far from what I’m expecting or what I think. I can’t pretend to smooth things over with him when he’s definitely giving off the most wrong vibe he possibly can.
Honestly, I’m not that much better in person than I am on the phone, which is why I like to text. That way I can think about what comes next and not have to spontaneously respond to awkward attempts at conversation. Why couldn’t he have just texted me back?
