Page 101 of The Great Dating Fake Off
“Honestly, that’s not a bad idea,” he says.
I set to work on my next plate. “We can lock them in a closet House Arrest style until they work it out.”
“House arrest like they committed a crime?”
“House Arrest like that Jamie Lee Curtis movie where the kids lock their soon-to-be-divorced parents in a basement with a few of their classmates’ fighting parents and tell them they can’t come out until they cancel their divorce. They install a metal door and everything. It’s a favorite of mine.”
“You have alarming taste.” He rolls his shoulders back and stretches his neck side to side. What we’re doing is so mundane, yet it’s a first for me. I’ve never done a chore with a guy before.
He has a very methodical approach to each dish, and I find myself distracted by his hands and veiny forearms more than once.
After a few minutes, he elbows me and nods straight ahead.
Nella’s eyelids are drifting shut.
I slow down my movements, more careful and gentle as I place the next plate in the drying rack. He turns the water lower.
“Roommates, am I right?”he murmurs. “Do you have any?”
“Nah. I live alone. For the first time ever, actually. It’s been nice having my own space, figuring out what I like and don’t like, finding my own routine. I finally feel totally happy with my situation.”
“That’s great. I guess I just expected someone like you”—he gestures a hand at me, flinging water droplets in the air—“who loves book clubs and exercise classes filled with people would prefer having a roommate around.”
I fling a few drops his way in retaliation. “I’d only live with the right person. Alessia, Eloise, Nella, Enzo…you have all these awesome, trustworthy people in your lives. I’ve always wanted that. Alas, I’ve only ever lived with Craigslist matches who steal my stuff or fling open the bathroom door when I’m taking showers, pretending they couldn’t hear the water running.”
He looks at me a beat too long. “Wow. I hate that.”
“’Tis in the past. Like I said: I’m good where I am and don’t plan to change it by adding any randos to the mix. Anyway”—I lower my voice further as my gaze bounces back to the living room—“We know you don’t live alone. How’s that been for you, Seb?”
His shoulders lift. “Fine. Fun, to be honest. I live alone everywhere else I go.”
I hip bump him. “Hasn’t cramped your style at all?”
“Nope.”
Curiosity rears its ugly head. “So, I guess when you go on dates—”
“Nora.”
“It’s fine. I don’t imagine you’re some kind of hermit.”
“I’m not dating other women. And I have not dated in Great River,” he says firmly. “Not at all in the last year.”
My pulse thrums. “I see. I just assumed—”
“Stop assuming anything before I spray you with the faucet.”
I throw him my best side-eye. “What am I, a cat on the counter?”
He hovers his hand near the spray nozzle. “I will soak you.”
“Not in your grandmother’s house you won’t.”
“You’re right. I won’t do anything to you in my grandmother’s house.” He tugs it out of its holder. “I’ll only think long and hard about it.”
The air between us changes on a dime as my skin flushes hot.
I run my hand under the faucet and get it good and wet before smearing it down his arm.
