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“Why didn’t you want to go with your friends to the boat party?”
I stop myself from smiling. It’s kind of endearing that he calls it aboatinstead of a yacht, especially when you consider how massive the vessel is. It’s not endearing enough that I want to keep talking to him, but since he’s opened Pandora’s box, he’s going to get my kind of crazy—the crazy that Zak labels as an “overactive imagination.” If anything,thatshould shut him up.
“It didn’t seem like a good idea. I didn’t feel like being sex trafficked tonight.”
His eyebrows jump up. “Sex trafficked?”
“Yeah, at the party.” I look down at my phone, scrolling through an app. “Have you ever seen the movieTaken? Because I have, and my father is no Liam Neeson. He doesn’t have any special skills, and he will definitely not come find me.”
“Okay.”
I should end the conversation here, but my newfound bitterness for attractive men makes it impossible for me to keep my mouth shut. “You seem like the type of guy that would be at a yacht party. Are you going?”
“Why do I feel like that’s not a compliment?”
I fake a sweet smile. “Because it’s not.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not going to the party.” He points behind him to the row of restaurants that line the pier. “I just escaped an awful blind date.”
“Why did you need to escape?”
“Because I didn’t want to be there.”
“So you just left?”
“No, I told her that we weren’t compatible and that I was ending the night early.”
“You actually said that to her?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Is that bad?”
I lean back into the bench, folding my arms over my chest. “Well, it sure isn’t good.”
“Why not? If I already know that she and I will never work, why waste our time?”
“You could have at least given her a chance.”
“I did give her a chance. I showed up to the date. Met her.”
“How long did you stay?”
He bobs his head back and forth as he thinks. “I don’t know. Ten minutes?”
“Ten minutes!” I can’t hide my shock.
“It felt like five hours.”
“How can you possibly know in a matter of ten minutes that you’re not compatible with this woman?”
He runs a hand down the back of his hair to the base of his neck. “For starters, I asked her what kind of music she likes to listen to, and she named some band I’ve never heard of.”
“What band?”
“Froggy?” He says it like he’s asking me.
“Froggy.” I’ve never heard of them either, but then again, I’m not very cool. I straighten. “Are you sure she didn’t sayFergie?”
His nose wrinkles, and somehow he manages to look even more handsome. It’s annoying, because when I wrinkle my nose, I look like I’m about to sneeze. My pre-sneeze face is not attractive.
