Page 50 of The Invitation
Satisfaction hangs over the evening events. I achieved my goal of doing just enough but not too much, so she thinks about me until she sees me again.
Her predictability makes me grin. Georgia performed exactly how I knew she would. She dressed like a knockout, flirted her ass off, and would’ve had any man in the building eating out of the palm of her soft, little hand.
Except me.
“Are you ready?” Greg asks as a red light glows on the camera.
“I am.”
“Great. First question is this—what was your first impression of Georgia as she entered the restaurant?”
Better keep this politically correct. I clear my throat. “Well, I don’t know how you notice anything before you notice how beautiful she is. It took me a moment to get my bearings. And then she smiled at me and … wow.”
“What kind of a first impression do you feel you made on Georgia?”
I laugh. “She seemed interested in what I had to say and asked a lot of questions. We seemed to share a lot in common, which I didn’t necessarily expect. I think she walked away from this evening thinking we have a potential connection.”
“Is that how you are walking away this evening—feeling a potential connection brewing?” Greg asks.
“Yes. Absolutely. I’m really looking forward to seeing her again. Sometimes you just click with someone on a different level, and Georgia and I were definitely clicking tonight.”
I grin, trying to hide it from the camera. We always click.It’s just usually more like the click of a gun than the click of a connection.
Greg looks at a sheet of paper in his hand. “What’s the one thing you hope viewers aren’t noticing about you tonight?”
“Well …” I laugh, looking into the camera. “I hope they didn’t notice my shaky hands when I pulled out Georgia’s chair. She’s stunning in person, and it took me a moment to grasp it.”
“You talked briefly about what search results might overlap. There was a bit of joking back and forth about that. Do you have any guess on what your common areas might be?”
I stifle a laugh as I think about her answer.“Cleaning hacks, meal prep tips … and porn.”
“It’s too soon to tell,” I say. “Although, I will say I’m walking away after our first date worried about her eating habits. We have to do better than string cheese and cookie butter.”
Greg smiles at that, and it reminds me of the smile of relief on Georgia’s face when I ordered for her. It had been so tempting to order something I knew she’d hate—fish or a duck—and watch her suffer through it. But for some unknown reason, I didn’t. And the look of utter relief strangely reminded me of many years ago when she looked relieved to see me approaching her.
It was the same smile—her most genuine one.
The one I never get.
Greg drops the paper to his side. “Last, are you looking forward to date number two?”
I never in a million years thought I’d look forward to spending time with Georgia Hayes. But tonight, with our torches and pitchforks put away, it was fun. Sure, it was only fun because we weren’t really us—just characterized versions of ourselves. But it was enjoyable, anyway.
“I am,” I say, honestly. “She’s the kind of woman who will keep you on your toes. I feel like things might get interesting, and I’m curious to see what happens between us.”
Greg turns the camera off. “We’re good to go. Thank you for showing up tonight with such professionalism. It’s appreciated.”
I shake his hand. “Thank you, Greg.”
“If you hand me your audio pack, you can be on your way.”
It’s a bit tricky to get everything unwound and handed over to Greg, but I manage. We exchange goodbyes, and I wave to Myla as I head to my car.
Date one is in the books. Now to figure out how to amp things up for date number two.
Chapter Thirteen
Georgia
