Page 24 of We Met Like This
Is complimenting someone’s looks before having been on a first date a red flag?
“Well,Nobodyis cute,” Mom said, even though the thumbnail picture was too small for her to see much of anything.
I turned my phone over in my lap so she would turn herattention back to the game. Then, covertly, several minutes later, when she was distracted talking to my sister, I responded to Oliver,Someone complimenting your looks or you complimenting someone?
Me complimenting someone.
A feeling started in my chest, like a rubber band being twisted tighter and tighter. I rubbed at it until it released. My coffee, the only thing I’d had that morning, must’ve been giving me heartburn. I responded:I guess it depends on the compliment. Generic, blanket compliments are only meh for me. They don’t feel sincere. But not necessarily a red flag. Use at your own discretion and try to be creative.
Thank you for your service.
Curious, I asked,What about you? Do you like compliments early on?
Call me a sucker, but yes. And they can be any old generic, overused compliment. A copy and paste job.
I smirked, then sent,You’re so tall, dark, and handsome. Oh, wait, that was on my clipboard. Hold on. You’re so average sized (are you? I don’t remember your height), sandy haired, and friendly-faced.
Friendly-faced?!
You’re right, that wasn’t generic. That was very specific. Sorry, I’ll do better next time.
I feel my ego crumbling.
I smiled.I’m positive you get more than enough compliments to keep that intact.
Apparently, I’ve only been getting generic ones. I request those from now on.
I stared at his thumbnail picture, and even though it really was too small to make out many details, I remembered his faceperfectly. His big brown eyes bordered with thick lashes. His wide contagious smile. His slightly crooked nose. I bit my lip, but as I contemplated typing out any of those things, the rubber band in my chest was back. So instead, I typed:I’ll keep that in mind.
“What are you smiling about over here?” Mom asked, leaning her shoulder against mine.
“Just chatting with a friend.”
“I’m glad you have good friends, sweetheart.”
“Me too.” Even if it was all I had.
Forty minutes later and two times up to bat for the boys and the game was over.
“I’m in charge of snacks this week,” Audrey said. “Will you help me pass them out?” She looked at me with the question, leaning around Mom.
“Yes, of course. Let’s do it.” I stood and brushed off the back of my jeans before following my sister toward the parking lot and her car.
“How are you?” she asked. “Mom’s worried.”
“Mom’s always worried,” I said.
“Should she be?” She opened her trunk to reveal a medium-sized ice chest.
How could I tell my super successful sister that my execution of all her stellar advice over the years was very poor and I was stalled in both my career and my dating life? How could I ask for her advice about self-sabotage and things with Rob when I knew how much she would judge me? Rightfully so. “No, I’m fine.”
We lifted the ice chest out of the trunk and headed back tothe picnic area next to the field, me holding one handle, her the other.
After a dozen steps, I adjusted the handle in my grip, the weight of the ice chest causing it to slip. “Are you feeding these kids a nine-course meal or something?”
She laughed. “They’re growing kids and they’re always hungry after playing.”
“So yes? Your answer is yes?”
