Page 24 of The Dating Proposal
McKenna: Moment of truth—I actually tried to reach into the phone and retrieve the message. Just picture me digging my hands into the ether of cellular bandwidth to cover up my dorkitude.
Chris: Hey! It’s all good. I didn’t expect you to be the keeper of gaming facts. That’s my job.
McKenna: And you’re excellent at it. Turns out, the last time I played it was in college. But I do recall having a blast then.
Chris: No surprise. That game is insanely fun. The game-maker tried to reboot it a few years ago, but it didn’t go over well. Too bad, because it’s like one of those classic old-school games. I’ve been to a few arcades that have it.
McKenna: Whew. Glad I haven’t made an absolute fool of myself.
Chris: No way! Actually, now you’ve got me thinking about Guitar Hero. And wanting to play again.
McKenna: And evidently I want to play it too.
Chris: Then we will remedy this. How about a lesson after your first segment?
I furrow my brow as I glance at the snoozing blonde beast. “He wants to give me a lesson, girl. What do you think?”
She lifts her snout.
“You obviously approve.”
Her tail twitches.
“You completely approve, and I need to get on that, stat? Is that what you just said?” I gasp in shock. “Ms. Pac-Man, how dare you?”
Her tail thumps harder.
“I do not want to ride him like a horse,” I mutter. “Fine, maybe for a minute. Okay, longer. But this can only be business. He doesn’t get involved with people he works with.”
I drop a kiss to her snout. “So just do the lesson as friends and business partners, and don’t think all those naughty, dirty, wonderfully delicious thoughts? Is that your final advice?”
I do her high-pitched voice in response. “Yes, sounds brilliant.”
The dog oracle has spoken. I write back.
McKenna: You teach at the computer store?
Chris: That’s why I was there when I met you. Once a month, I teach newbies how to play video games. Like you, evidently. Go ahead and say it. I am a full-fledged internet geek.
McKenna: You are, certifiably. Sounds fun though.
Chris: We’ll have a good time, and I promise I won’t be too hard on you.
McKenna: It’s okay. You can be hard on me.
I force myself to turn off my phone for the night. When I snuggle under the covers and close my eyes, I’m thinking about Chris more than a business partner should.
But you know what?
It feels good to let my mind drift to how hard I want him to be.
So good, in fact, that his message the next morning feels like a flirty, dirty reward.
Chris: If you insist, then, I’ll be prepared to be quite hard on you.
15
McKenna
Before I leave for my dinner date, Hayden stops by, eyeing my outfit. “You look fabulous. Is this the new Bershka?”
I glance at the red-and-black leopard-print blouse with a tie front. “Yes! Isn’t it yummy? It’s the most versatile top in the world. In fact, that’s what I said in the video I just posted.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Hayden states, touching the soft fabric. “It’s the kind of top you can wear to work and then to a date.”
“Gah! When you say stuff like that, it makes me feel like you love me,” I say playfully.
“Goofball. I do love you, and I know fashion is the way to your heart. Well, fashion and dogs.”
“And naturally, Ms. Pac-Man appeared in my Insta video.” I bend down to rub her soft head. “You were such a good companion.”
She wags her tail, and my phone buzzes with a message that my Lyft driver is here.
“I’m off! And thank you for setting me up with Dan,” I say, mentioning the FedEx guy who services her office. “Wish me luck.”
She blows me a kiss. “Luck, but you don’t need it. Be yourself, and have fun.”
I slide into the Lyft, and as the driver takes me to a restaurant in Russian Hill, I answer questions from viewers on Instagram and on my blog. They ask for advice on what to wear, and a few want to know how the dates are going.
Briefly I picture Chris, then I want to slap my mind. I’m not dating Chris. Please. He’s off-limits.
I reflect back on teary-eyed Steven, and I devise a diplomatic reply.
The first one was interesting. He was hung up on his ex, but so it goes. I’m undaunted and dipping my toe back in the pool again tonight!
After I answer a few more questions, I arrive at Lemongrass, a hip new place wedged between a coffee shop and another coffee shop, because . . . San Francisco. I thank the driver and push the door to head inside.
A man is there, holding the door open. “Are you McKenna?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I say, a little flustered because holy cannoli. Dan Duran is handsome. He has blond hair and brown eyes, a combo I love.
