Page 20 of Last First Date
I shake my head, trying to come up with some quick way to end this awful phone call. “Okay Hesse. Um, well, I’m going to go. To work. I’ll send you a text and we’ll figure out the details for the benefit, okay?”
“That sounds lovely. Take care, Miss Albrecht.”
Well, at least he said yes. I go ahead and text my mother to let her know Hesse’s agreed to be my plus one to the gala. She, exactly like Hesse, calls as soon as I text her, but I’m smart enough not to fall for that again. One unsolicited phone call per day is my limit.
I just text her one more time and tell her I can’t talk because I’m on my way to the station. That’ll get her off my phone, no doubt.
I bet a million dollars that the grouchy, towel-clad man of the hour will be at the station too. Fucking Abernathy. He can’t just brush me off when we’re both at work, right?
Why was he acting so weird anyway? I really thought I was holding my own with the slimy Steve Garretson, and I’ve been trying to puzzle out the reason behind Thom’s temper tantrum ever since.
It’s not like he was teaching me much of anything about dating by practically humping that fancy girl at the bar anyway. Unless you count his lessons on airborne venereal disease as somehow educational.
Maybe he was just mad because I was cockblocking him. Well, whatever. I’m sure he gets more ass than a toilet seat on the regular. One night off won’t kill him.
Thom Abernathy needs to get over his weirdness and move on with teaching me to dance. We made a deal.
Or at least we had one before. I’m not sure what’s going on now that he gave me the silent treatment all the way home from that crappy wine bar.
I pull up his name to send him a text.
I need another lesson.
Three dots appear below my message almost immediately. Thank goodness that Abernathy at least is normal enough to text me back instead of calling.
I’m on shift. Nope.
Maybe that’s why he was extra spicy during the ride home the other night. He’s probably tired, and that probie year isn’t an easy one.
You can give me what I need at the station. NBD
Are you really asking me to give you what you need? Really? Because it might be more than you can handle.
Ugh. He’s such a pig. I can’t believe I’m trying to get this particular guy’s help to finally earn my mother’s approval when I can practically hear the leer in his texts.
I need dancing lessons.
Three dots, then nothing. Three dots again. I keep staring at the phone and waiting for whatever epic missive he’s texting me. Then it finally chimes and his message comes through.
Nope.
Fuck that. I pick up the phone and call him, because he’s not going to say no to me when we actually talk to each other on the phone, right?
“Nope,” he says when he answers. “No way. Unh-unh. Forget it.”
Maybe this is his way of playing hard to get. Besides, he should know by now that I’m not the giving up type, and I’m going to make his life even more miserable than usual if he doesn’t give in.
“Just say yes to me, Abernathy.” I try to put enough wooing into my voice that he’ll say yes automatically to anything I ask, just like that sleazy lawyer Garretson would have. I could have asked that clown to dress up in a chicken suit and run around the town square clucking and I’ll bet he would have done it.
The phone goes quiet. Uh oh. Have I really pissed him off this time? Is he going to call off the whole deal already?
“For one, what kind of person calls in the middle of a text conversation? You’re fired. And for two, I’m not much of a dancer. You’re asking the wrong guy, Darcy.”
“Bullshit. I’ve seen the way you use your body. There’s no way on earth you’re not good at dancing too.”
He pauses again and I start to tap my feet waiting for him to answer. Or maybe hang up. Something. Did I say something wrong? Is he going to be skeeved out that I can’t seem to keep my eyes off him ever since I’d seen so much of him bare?
“Use my body, huh? Fine. If you really want my help, then you can come over to the station while I’m on shift, and we’ll have some dancing lessons. You, me, and all the rest of the guys.”
