Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 7: A New Adult Romantic Comedy (6 page)

BOOK: Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 7: A New Adult Romantic Comedy
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He led me by hand through a private entrance where he spoke in whispers to one of the staff. We were guided behind the seating and up a narrow stairway to the top level of a tower that housed all the lighting.

“Exclusive seats, just for you,” he whispered in my ear.

I don’t know how he found out, but I’d been trying to get tickets to see a show,
any
show, in this theater since I’d moved to the city. I never imagined I’d be watching it from up high like this. The set was minimal and almost unnecessary. The actors’ presence filled the large, exposed stage, their words carrying into the darkness above.

 

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

 

My mouth fell open in shock.
He remembered. He actually remembered my favorite play. We’re watching
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
in Central Park…

I kept stealing glances at him, the lights illuminating his handsome face. I couldn’t believe this was happening and before I knew it, it was over.

We strolled through the park back to my apartment, hand in hand. Puddles of light illuminated the path, the park surprisingly busy so late at night. Joggers, cyclists, other theater-goers winding their ways back home.

“So,” I said.

“So,” he replied. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Romancing the serial dater, huh?”

He let out a throaty laugh. “I guess I should explain myself then, eh?”

“I have been enjoying myself plenty while you’ve kept me in the dark.”

He dropped his head, a few pieces of hair hanging low on his forehead. “Even though the book isn’t coming out until the end of this year, my publicist has me flying all over to start promotions. I don’t exactly have a place to call home,” he said sadly, “but I definitely won’t be gathering dust in any one spot for the next couple months.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, still unsure of where this was all going.

He pulled me closer, slipping his arm around my waist. He changed his gait so our hips rocked back and forth in unison with each step. “I made sure that my schedule allowed for at least one day a week here in New York. Those are the days I’ll be here to take you out.”

I peered up at him in surprise. “You really don’t have to go to so much trouble. I’m here no matter…”

“I’m going to take you out,” he replied firmly. “Well, if you’ll have me.”

I laughed at the idea of turning him down, especially after all the effort he’d gone to. “
Hmm
. Well, as you’ve read, I do have a flourishing social life. I’m not sure I can fit you in.”

Clint grunted and came to a short stop, pulling me against his body tightly. He cupped my jaw with both hands and stared into my eyes. Our noses were only a fraction apart.

“Talia. I like you. I really like you. I fancy the fucking pants off you, actually.”

I let out a shuddering breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and glanced at his lips. “Okay.”

“I can’t dance around this anymore. I just…” he pulled away, as if he were suddenly embarrassed. His hands dropped from my face.

There were no words for what this man did to me. I leaned forward without any warning, throwing my arms around his neck and diving for his mouth. He grunted against my lips as he stumbled back a step, obviously not expecting my advance. His arm snaked tightly around my waist as he recovered and soon we were wrapped in a pretty steamy embrace.

We broke apart only when a young guy walked by and whistled under his breath. The world around us had disappeared. The walls had dropped and we were able to admit, to ourselves and to each other, that there were legitimate feelings there.

When Clint met my eye, we both laughed like a couple of teenagers. He slowly walked me the rest of the block back to my apartment and gave me another kiss on the front step.

“I’ll be back next Thursday.”

“Can’t wait,” I grinned.

Clint walked away backwards as if he didn’t want to go. “Be sure to keep checking the blog!”

The week I had to wait until I saw Clint again was both the longest and fastest week of my life. I checked the blog obsessively, just waiting for the newest post to publish, a hint of what was planned for Thursday night. At the same time, I was all worked up about seeing him again. The nerves of knowing we’d confessed our feelings for each other got the better of me.

Maybe I’m just blowing this whole thing out of proportion,
I’d think.
Maybe he doesn’t really like me like that, but is vaguely interested.
But the small voice of common sense would speak up and remind me that no guy would go to such lengths for a woman he kinda liked.

The post he put up on Monday didn’t exactly clear things up.

 

Okay, so he wasn’t the best at poetry, but it definitely got my attention!

Thursday rolled around and I could barely get through the workday without checking the clock every two minutes. I raced home the moment I could and spent an hour getting ready.

“Do you have any clue what we’re doing? Tell me if you know!” I begged Anette.

“Why would I?” she replied as disinterested as possible.

“Because you two are practically bosom buddies.”

“Hey. I got you together. You’re on your own now,” she said with a wave of a hand.

I leaned on the back of the sofa and tried to reason with her. “I just need to know what to wear.”

Anette gave me a look up and down. “Not that,” she scoffed.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Stepping between her and the TV, I did a little twirl, my bathrobe flying open. “Really? You don’t think this is appropriate first date material?”

“Second.”

“Second?” I frowned, coming to a stop.

“This is your second date,” she explained slowly. “Your first one already happened, remember?”

“Shit…” Somehow this made it worse. There were already expectations in place. Things that were supposed to happen on second dates compared to first.
Shit. This changes everything.

Anette read my mind. “It doesn’t change anything. Go put on a nice shirt, a pair of jeans, and thank your lucky stars you have such an understanding and amazing roommate.”

Twenty minutes later, Clint sent a text saying he was downstairs. “I’m going,” I called out to Anette who was now hiding out in her room.

“Be good!” she yelled back. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Well that certainly doesn’t limit my opportunities,” I chuckled.

I was a little miffed she hadn’t come out to say goodbye, but my nerves erased any irritation. As I walked down those stairs, I thought my heart was going to jump out of my mouth. I’d crushed on Clint for months now. I’d waited a week to see him after finding out he not only didn’t hate me, but was actually pretty fond of me. And now he was waiting outside…

I spotted him leaning against a black town car and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw how casually he was dressed. It didn’t make him any less handsome, however. Dark hair, broad shoulders, and the smile that spread across his face as our eyes met…

Focusing on not falling down the stairs as I approached, I didn’t dare speak until I was safely on the ground. I wasn’t sure how to greet him, so I let him take the lead.

“You look amazing,” he breathed as he kissed me on either cheek.

“You too,” I replied softly.

“I missed you,” he said, almost sadly.

“Me too.”

He smiled and opened the door, stepping to the side to let me in.

“It’s a good thing you aren’t wearing a jacket,” I quipped as I slipped past. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was!

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed, joining me in the car.

“So, where are we going?”

Clint grinned as he reached into the center console between us. “Well, I wanted to keep it a secret a little longer…” As he spoke, he pulled out a narrow black strip of cloth.

“And that’s for…” I was about to get some serious flashbacks if he wasn’t careful.

I struggled to make sense of his behavior, the blindfold, and the poem about people acting old.

He slid closer, his arm circling around my back along the top of the seat. “Humor me.”

I nodded and let him tie the strip across my eyes, more flustered than anything. I think months of being shocked by men had given me a toolbox of coping strategies. A year before, this would’ve never happened. In a car with a new man, blindfolded, going God-knows-where… I’m pretty sure Clint English was the only man I’d ever let do that.

Maybe it was the accent.

Aside from the blindfold, the conversation was normal and casual. He asked about my week, I asked about his. He made me laugh and within five minutes, I was already at ease. Anticipation had put so much pressure on this date, but when it was just the two of us, I don’t know. It felt right.

The car slowed to a stop, and I reached up to my eyes with an unsteady hand. “Can I…”

“Yes, of course.”

Even with the tinted windows, I had to blink with the brightness. I swiveled my head this way and that before letting out a laugh. “Seriously?”

“It sounded like you didn’t have the best time here,” Clint replied as he climbed out of the car and offered his hand.

“It wasn’t the shuffleboard I disliked.” Even though I’d been the one to put all these dates online for the whole world to read, it was still bizarre to have someone bring them up, to know details as if they’d been there themselves.

Clint tilted his head toward the door. “You ready?”

“You do see that this is a little weird, right?” I laughed. I felt like I was returning to the scene of a crime.

He grinned in the most endearing way, dimples forming at the corners of his mouth. “Trust me.”

As we walked into the vast hall, a familiar shout rang out. I traced the sound to its source and rolled my eyes. “Really?”

“Over here!” Anette yelled waving her hands. Amie was beside her with a bottle of beer looking amused and not at all embarrassed.

I gave Clint a look. “How did she get here before us?”

“I may have had the driver circle around a few times,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You two are in collusion,” I said, waggling a finger in his face.

“Hey. You’re the one who said you would’ve had a better time if there’d been more people around. I can’t help it if I’m a good listener.”

“Reader,” I corrected as we approached the lane.

The thing is, Clint was right. We had an absolute blast. I’d all but written off shuffleboard after my first experience, but after that date, I realized I might have a long and happy retirement filled with playing. He was terrible and I learned also a very sore loser. He and Anette became super competitive while Amie and I laughed at their antics.

At first I was a little upset I had to share my Clint time with the others, but I came to realize what a brilliant move it’d been. With my friends around, I wasn’t nearly as nervous. It’d taken a lot of the pressure off the two of us and I loved how well he got along with everyone. Plus, it was fantastic to double date with Anette and her, dare I say it,
girlfriend.

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