Page 39 of Last First Date
"Knock it off, you idiotface," she hisses at him.
He puts his hands up in a defensive position. "What on earth, woman? You know I came here to be with you." He leans into her and says something in her ear that leaves her cheeks flushed and her lips parted.
Wow. I didn't even think K.T. was physically capable of blushing.But also why are they giving off these lovey-dovey couple vibes? Are they actually dating?
Well, now is definitely not the time to have this particular conversation with her.
I narrow my eyes at her for a split second. “We’ll discuss this later,” I say, tapping my index finger alongside my nose.
She looks down and tries to suppress her happy smile, but then Reed pulls her closer to him and it breaks out all over her face like sunshine from underneath a cloud.
But also, how awkward could this entire situation possibly be right now? Ugh, time to get out of here.
I reach for Hesse's arm and attempt to lead him away, but his tiny cup of punch manages to splash all over the front of my dress, because we are on the world’s worst date. "Oh no. I can’t believe what a mess this is."
Hesse awkwardly attempts to blot away most of the punch using his pocket handkerchief, but it ends up with his hands basically down the front of my dress, much to our mutual and deeply unsexy embarrassment.
"I’m so sorry, Darcy. Let me escort you to the restrooms so you can clean up a bit." He looks flustered, either by my clumsiness or the distinct lack of sexiness happening between us, when he accidentally ended up going to second base with me.
K.T. and Reed are already off dancing, and there's something else I didn't know about my friend, the sharp-tongued bartender. She's way better at the waltz than I am, and I was a debutante. Huh. I wonder what other secrets she has hidden underneath that tough girl exterior.
Hesse offers me his jacket to try to hide the mess all over the front of my dress, so I wrap it around myself and pull him toward the hallway.
"I know you said you have two left feet, but it looks like I've got two left hands.”
Well, he’s trying. “I'm sorry that this whole night has been nothing but awkward, right up until I literally made a great big mess of things." I offer him a weak smile and get a polite nod in return.
"I'm sure it's nothing that the bathroom attendant can't help you with."
Sigh. The absolute height of romance, right? I can't help but think about how differently Thomas Abernathy would have handled even this. I can say with absolute certainty that there is no way on earth that he'd be handing me off to some random bathroom attendant to fix my damn dress.
No, Abernathy would have offered to take me upstairs and wash it off himself. All while doing something decidedly sinful with his lips and tongue to the exposed flesh of my breasts. I feel myself heat up in remembered pleasure.
"Don't be embarrassed, Darcy. It could have happened to anyone." Well, it turns out Hesse can't read me to save his damned life. Probably all for the best, since I've now spent this entire evening comparing him to Abernathy with him coming out as the loser every single time.
I don't even mean that in a mean way. It's just that Abernathy has a way about him—he's a man's man. Whereas
Hesse Kotner seems like the kind of guy who would probably write me a crappy six page long poem for our anniversary and then expect me to compare it to Leonard Cohen lyrics.
Plus, when he had his hands down the front of my dress, it did absolutely nothing for me except make me feel even more embarrassed and awkward about his clammy hands, and even the shape of my own body in this too tight nightmare of a dress.
But when Abernathy touched me—even before he touched me for the first time—I wanted nothing more than to go up in flames with him. He lit me up from the inside out, burning and branding me with his touch, the promise of sex and pleasure that dripped from every word he spoke.
I remember his voice in my ear, telling me that he was going to ruin me for all other men. Well, mission accomplished, asshole.
I can't even pretend to enjoy this date with the very man that my mother has been basically trying to auction me off to since the stupid photo shoot, and it’s because I can’t get Abernathy out of my head.
We reach the hallway and I let Hesse pull me down a hallway and into an alcove. "Darcy, I have something to say to you."
I look up at him and swallow hard. "I have something to say too. And maybe you'd better let me go first."
Thomas
Well, Aunt Opal's plan is officially a bust, and I haven't even apologized to Darcy Albrecht yet. But I couldn’t miss seeing her. She lights up the entire room every single time, pulling me toward her like a magnet.
In hindsight, this was probably a stupid idea. I mean, who crashes a fancy date with a woman who has made it abundantly clear over and over again that she wants and deserves better than what I have to offer?
Me, that's who. I'm the idiot who bought a ticket to this snobby fundraiser just so I could see Darcy and try to apologize to her in person. And I'll admit, I was definitely hoping that her date with that fancy ass Kotner would end in some sort of an epic fail so I could swoop in and rescue her again.
