Page 41 of Friendshipped
“The first guy, George, works at a bank in Beavercreek.”
“George,” I say, tilting my head, raising my brows and twisting my mouth.
“Don’t nickname him yet,” she says. “Actually … go ahead. Have at it.”
Lexi sips more coffee as if she needs it to fortify her.
“Anyway, George and I decided to meet at a restaurant midway between here and Beavercreek. It was an all-you-can-eat buffet. So far so good. I mean, it’s not classy, but it’s a first date, so whatever. And just so you know, after the whole frisky episode with Hank I had decided to drive myself to meet these guys on first dates.”
“Good call.”
“Frisky,” I add under my breath, barely holding in my chuckle.
Lexi smiles a half-smile and shakes her head while she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and says, “Yeah, well. Frisky’s got nothing on this. George was with Angie for five years and they broke up two months ago.”
“I see where this is going,” I say.
“Why is he on the app?” Lexi asks in a tone of exasperation. “He said nothing unusual during our chats. Heseemednormal. No mention of Angie at all, obviously, or I wouldn’t have agreed to go out with him. So, the whole night—and I mean the whole night—George talks about Angie: how beautiful she is, how funny, how kind, which I have to beg to differ on that one.”
“Wait!” I say. “Youmether?”
“Oh no! You wait. I went through this, so you have to let me tell it in order.
“So, the best woman in the world broke his heart two months ago. I was sympathetic. I get it. Heartbreak is awful. But, I’m not a therapist—I’m his date. I tried, oh I tried, to veer the subject to something else. I asked him what he does for fun. He and Angie used to take long walks and read aloud to one another. I asked what his goals are. He has none since all his goals involved Angie. He never asked about me, Trev. Not once. So, I chalked it up to a night out with a decent salad. Because, yeah. I was at an all-you-can-eat buffet and I’m on a diet!”
“You’re yelling,” I tell her.
“Sorry,” Lexi says, shaking her head. “Here’s the kicker. And when I say kicker … anyway. About an hour into the date this woman walks over to our table. I thought George knew her by the way his eyes showed recognition from across the room when she started to approach us, but the closer she got, the brighter he smiled. He has a nice smile, by the way, and it was the first one I’d seen from him all night. Anyway, the next part seemed to all happen in some freakish form of slow motion.
“This woman walked up and out of the blue she slapped my cheek! Trevor. She slapped my cheek. She said,You hussy! You are trying to steal my Georgie away from me. The whole time he’s sitting there with goo-goo eyes looking at the love of his life with little cartoon birds and stars circling his head while I’m thinking,She just slapped me.A total stranger slapped me. It wasn’t a hard slap. I barely felt it. It was definitely more for show, but still.”
“You’re kidding!” I say. “What did you do?”
“After the shock wore off, I stood up, told Angie she was welcome to him. I thanked George for supper and walked out.”
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine. It was so unexpected. I mean who slaps a total stranger? And who uses the word hussy? If things don’t work out with George, I should offer to introduce Angie to Hank. They’re like these retro twenty-somethings with their antiquated lingo.
“And don’t you think Angie should have slapped Georgie? He was the one who knew about her. I thought I was merely out on a depressing date.”
“Georgie Porgie,” I say.
“I figured you’d go there,” Lexi says. “It’s not original, but it works. It really does. Think about that rhyme. Kissed the girls and made them cry. My dating life consists of nursery rhymes come to life!”
“Sorry, Lex,” I say.
And I mean it. I feel a wave of guilt for ever having wanted things to have gone poorly. Lexi doesn’t deserve this.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m not dating anymore. Not for a long while. And not on that app. I’m going back to hanging out in my sweats with you and watching our favorite movies while we stuff ourselves on pizza.”
Nothing has ever sounded better to me in my life. I don’t tell Lexi that, of course. I also don’t mention this coming Friday—and Meg. I should. I will. I can’t bring myself to bring it up right now for some reason.
Instead I ask Lexi about her second date this weekend. “Well, what about the movie date on Sunday?”
“Fred,” she says. “He and I had chatted about what kinds of movies I like and what was showing. I told him romcom, romance, action, but no thrillers or anything spooky.”
“Obviously nothing remotely spooky for you,” I agree.
