He shoots me a smile that makes me suspect he knows exactly how uncomfortable he makes me before turning his attention to the baby in his arms. I grab my jacket and congratulate Sophie again and let her know I’ll stop by this week once she’s home. Then I book it outta there.
Five
Chloe
The next couple of days pass in the usual blur of lesson plans, notes to parents, and breaking up the bickering of seven-year-olds. I love it. I might be almost as new to teaching as I am to dating, but unlike dating, I’m good at teaching. Plus I’ve worked hard to prepare myself to be a great teacher. Which, now that I’m thinking of it like that, reminds me that I just need more practice with dating. It’s not like I gave up the first time a kid was difficult. Nope. Maybe I should study? Like a course, or a book. I wonder if there’s a Dating for Dummies book? I’m going to Google that right now… there is! Um, look, there’s a Sex for Dummies too. I bite my lip, then add them both to my online cart and check out. I’m a great student. I’ve totally got this.
My books will be here in a couple of days. In the meantime, I’ve got another date tonight. Another chance to practice, if you will. Like homework. I’m just meeting the guy for coffee—that’s my go-to first date. I need to stop at home first and freshen up. One time I met someone after work and didn’t realize until later that I had a streak of blue Sharpie down my arm the entire time. So I pack up and drive home first to get ready.
I’m meeting Joe at a Starbucks near my apartment, the one on South Broad Street. It’s not the closest coffee shop to my apartment—not even the closest Starbucks. I never meet dates super close to my apartment, just in case. Like, what if it’s a horrible date and I keep bumping into them at my favorite Starbucks? That would be awful. Plus the employees would see me in there all the time with different guys. So embarrassing.
Luckily I can leave school early enough to avoid some of the rush-hour traffic, so I make it home in under twenty minutes. Teacher perk. I park my car for the night in the cheap monthly parking garage I found a couple of blocks from my apartment. I don’t live anywhere fancy enough to include parking. The location is amazing though. I’m downtown in Center City, Philadelphia, only a few blocks away from Sophie and less than ten blocks from both Sandra and Everly. But I live in a small studio apartment. One-bedrooms were way out of my price range if I wanted to be downtown. So I don’t have fancy amenities like parking or in-unit laundry, or a doorman. But it’s a secure building with a great location and it’s really all I need.
I’m on the eighth floor, which makes for a nice view and somewhat reduced noise coming from the street. I walk inside and drop the bag I bring to school with me on one of the chairs at my small two-seat kitchen table and shrug out of my jacket. I stuff today’s clothes into my hamper then change into jeans and a black sweater before checking my hair and makeup. My hair is kind of a sandy brown with streaks of auburn and right now, it’s a mess. A glance at the clock tells me I don’t have time to do much with it, so I brush it out and fasten it in a low pony. It will have to do. I apply a little more makeup than I wear to school then freshen my Chapstick before applying a nude lipstick on top. Perfect. I check my phone to make sure he hasn’t cancelled then grab my purse and jacket and head out.
I’ll walk to Starbucks. It’s less than a mile and it’s nice out. I cut through Rittenhouse Square to 18th Street, then walk a few blocks down before turning and making my way towards South Broad. I’m a little apprehensive after my date last weekend, but I Googled this guy and I’m reasonably sure he’s a real person. I found some pictures online that match the pictures on his dating profile, so assuming the guy in the pictures is the guy who shows up, I should be okay.
But this is why I always meet first dates in a public place. I let Cal pick me up on the second date, but I didn’t let him come upstairs. I met him in the lobby. I live in a large building so I figure it’s okay to meet them in the lobby for the second date. I haven’t actually let anyone into my apartment yet. I should probably stop watching Criminal Minds if I want to get a boyfriend. It’s just so good. But I think it might be making me paranoid. I mean, the agents on Criminal Minds catch at least twenty new serial killers every season. There can’t possibly be that many serial killers wandering around, right? There’s probably like… ten in the United States at any given time. I bet it’s ten. I’m gonna look that up later.
I wonder what Boyd meant about me owing him a favor. I wonder if he meant anything by it? I wonder what I want him to mean. I stuff my hands into my pockets as I walk. Like, what if he meant a sexual favor? No, that’s stupid. Stupid. As if he’d need a sexual favor from me. He probably meant a favor like helping him move. I wrinkle my nose and step around a couple arguing in the middle of the sidewalk. Or maybe a favor like a ride to the airport. That’s probably what he meant. I can’t really picture him sitting in the passenger seat of my Toyota Corolla though, even for a free ride to the airport.
I roll my eyes at myself as I walk. I’m sure he meant nothing by it. It’s just a stupid saying. It does not, in any way, imply that he was thinking dirty thoughts about me. As if he would look twice at me anyway. I’m cute enough, I suppose. But that’s the thing. I’m cute. I get freckles in the summer. I wear leggings and I’m happy with my hair in a ponytail. He seems like he’d appreciate someone a little more… polished than me. Plus, he’s older. I seem to recall that he’s ten years older than Sophie, which would make him thirty-two and way more experienced than me. Forget about it. But maybe I should increase my age limit on the dating app I’m using. I think I have it capped at twenty-eight. Maybe I should raise it because I think thirty-two-year-olds might be my thing. You know, as long as they have badges and look like Boyd.
I blow out a breath and tap my foot on the pavement while I wait for the light to change so I can cross 15th Street. What would I even do with a guy like Boyd? He’s probably into crazy shit like having sex with the lights on. It’s just… I swear I felt something when we met. The moment he walked into the room on Sunday the energy changed. Granted I was about to be questioned by the FBI, so that might have had something to do with the energy in the room, but I don’t know. The problem with chemistry is that it’s not always reciprocated. Sometimes one person is picturing Hollywood-worthy wall sex and the other person is thinking about what they should pick up for dinner on the way home from work.