Page 110 of The Great Dating Fake Off
I laugh a little too hard, and love seeing his name in my phone a little too much. With a cleansing exhale, I vow to wrap my arms around this moment and cradle it to my chest for as long as possible.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sebastian
Two weeks.
It took two extremely long weeks to get Enzo and Ro in the same place at the same time, thanks to their hectic work schedules.
My schedule was no lighter—I’ve picked up way too many paint jobs to save for moving expenses. Which means I’ve had no ability to spend time with Nora. Zip. Zilch.
I’m feeling the separation.
Enzo strides into Palace Social so fast I can barely keep up. “Ro and I love this place. We’d go on dates here a lot.”
It’s like Dave and Busters on steroids in here, right down to the celestial carpet and acid-trip colors everywhere. Bowling lanes line the back wall, a huge arcade fills out most of the front, and a busy circular bar sits dead center of it all. The lanes are lit with black lights for “cosmic bowling.” Everything neon glows in the dark.
“It’s a great spot,” I concede.
He points to the far-right end of the lanes. “There they are. Oh, she wore my favorite shirt of hers! Do you think that’s a good sign?”
Considering my job is to be his hype man and I have no idea what Ro’s shirt choice says about her state of mind, I give an eager nod and clap him on the shoulder. “It can’t hurt.”
Four people are waiting in the seating area for lane one. They’re sitting in the horseshoe-shaped bench, and I can see Ro’s face, as well as the back of two heads.
One head of very familiar brown hair.All it takes is a glimpse and I’m ready to crawl out of my skin to get to Nora.
Two weeks of surviving on only a diet of her text messages. They’ve grown more frequent with us not being able to see each other in person, but I still want more.
It started the morning after she put on that show for me in my bedroom when I texted her good morning. She responded great morning, and I spent seven minutes debating if that was in reference to waking up after the great night we had or if she was just having a damn good morning. By the time I was ready to respond, she sent me a picture of her coffee on her work counter and a cheers, so I took that to mean she needed to get busy and signed off with a have a great shift, pretty girl.
The next day, she sent a paparazzi spy shot of Nella talking to a group of women at the pool with the caption Local celebrity spotted at the Y.
As one does, I followed that up with a picture of my lunch. Lobster bisque.Not too shabby.
An hour later, I glanced at my phone and almost fell off a ladder. She sent a picture of herself licking a snow cone, captioned Wish you were here.My paint roller, coated in a dark blue shade called Sailor’s Navy, immediately hit the very white ceiling of some rich person’s living room thanks to that distraction. It took a coat of primer and a special trip to Home Depot to buy the right color white paint to match the ceiling to fix that error.
We’ve texted every day since about everything and nothing, my mentees getting honor roll and her doctor’s appointment. The dangerous kind of small talk I’ve come to depend on.
It’s clear I have no self-control and need to always know what she’s up to. My brain is telling me I have no right, but the rest of me insists she’s mine.
We really need to talk about what’s next.
After a pit stop to get bowling shoes, Enzo puts on polite airs when we arrive at the entrance to the lane one seating area. You know, as if he didn’t barrel in here like a golden retriever let off his leash in his haste to get to Ro. “Hey, everyone.”
A chorus of hellos float our way.
Ro crosses her arms, her gaze careful but eager.She pops her gum, her tone a little nervous. “Hi, Enzo.”
Enzo lifts a hand. “Hey.” He takes a few steps and drops on an empty stretch of bench beside her.
They look like that old vintage cartoon of the skunks with hearts around their heads as they take turns looking at each other.
Now that’s a good start. It seems Nella was on to something when she said just get them in the same room and see what shakes out.
On the other bench, Nora’s seated next to Benji and I’m almost certain they are playing chess against each other on their phones.
I wave my hand in front of their faces. “You’re both aware you’re hot, right? You don’t have to live like this.”
