The Lying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #5)(32)

Are you sure you want to unmatch with BlueAsTheSky? The app verifies before the deed can be done and, transfixed, I watch as JB taps the red button, permanently erasing Skylar from his matches.

Done.

Gone for good.

I let out a breath and turn my back, guilt about going behind his back and secretly contacting her eating away at my conscience. But what the hell were my other options? I couldn’t come out and ask the idiot for permission to talk to her with his account.

He’d have laughed in my face.

After sitting across from her at that table this past weekend, I haven’t been able to get Skylar off my mind. Since I couldn’t come out and ask for her phone number, messaging through LoveU was my only option.

So I did what I did. I got her phone number.

And now we’re going out.

It’s done and I have no regrets; I’ll figure the rest out later.

“What about this one?” JB is showing Cliff a brunette with tits I can see from here. “She looks like a nice girl.”

They laugh.

JB swipes right without reading her profile.

“Does this mean I’m officially relieved of my duty to find you women to hook up with?” Then I suggest, half joking, “Maybe you should delete the entire app and lay off for a while.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Why? It’s not like you’re having any luck.”

“I’m playing the numbers game.”





Skylar



Abe is incredible.

My entire body has been blushing the whole time we’ve been sitting here, and it’s not because the heater in the restaurant is turned up too high.

Though it kind of is.

The butterflies in my stomach are out, dancing and rolling, causing me to place my hand there a time or two as Abe tells another story that makes me laugh.

“…and then I just sat there not sure what to say, because I didn’t know the answer. So, finally, the kid sitting next to me whispers some bullshit, and I say it out loud, right—because everyone is staring at me. And you know how huge those lecture halls are.”

I nod; the lecture halls are gigantic. “What happened?”

“It was the wrong answer. The professor goes, ‘How did you come up with that?’ and my freaking stomach just drops. I want to kill the kid sitting next to me, but it’s not his fault. It’s mine for not doing the studying.”

I give him another enthusiastic nod; I’m on the edge of my seat.

“I don’t know what to say, and I can’t lie for shit. So, I look at my professor then I look at the kid next to me, and I say, ‘He gave me the answer.’”

“You did not!” My eyes are nearly out of my skull.

“I promise you, I did.”

“What did the professor say?”

“I doubt anyone has said that to him before—the guy looked as shocked to hear it as I was by me saying it. Then he just kept teaching and never called on me again after that.”

“Ever?”

“Nope. Not for the rest of the semester.”

“Dang…”

“Want to hear the best part?”

“Yes—what’s the best part?”

“I was his TA the next semester, and he just wrote me a recommendation for a job this summer.”

“Stop it!” I laugh. “What?”

“You can’t make this shit up.” Abe laughs, stabbing a piece of the chicken on his plate.

“That’s a good story. I have nothing nearly as good, how sad is that?”

“Trust me, you should be glad you don’t have any stories like that, it means you fly under the radar. I find you fascinating.”

Well then…

That’s one of the most romantic things any guy has ever said to me, and it’s hardly the stuff romance novels are made of. At least—in the novels I read when I have free time.

Little does he know, I drink pumpkin spice lattes and wear ugly, furry boots when it gets cold, and have a big, black puffy coat, and get sun burn in the summer, and freckle up, and listen to the same 80s and 90s music my mother listens to.

Still.

I’m willing to believe he finds me fascinating.

Abe Davis could charm me out of my pants if I’m not careful. My virginal, denim pants.

I’m glad he texted me.

At first, I wasn’t sure he would. Jack Bartlett doesn’t exactly inspire trust in people—he’s way too…shady? Is that the word I’m looking for? The fact that I never unmatched him on the LoveU app can only be chalked up to sheer laziness.

So when I gave him my number to pass along to Abe, I wasn’t entirely sure he would actually give it to him.

But he did.

And here we are.

And for the first time in months, I’m wearing a skirt and a sexy blouse. I have my hair curled and a face full of makeup, compliments of Hannah and Bethany. Also, I’m wearing heels.

High. Heels.

What?!

Everything about this evening feels right.

Perfect.

I resist the urge to touch my hair and push it aside. I’m nervous, and the tension between us could be cut with a butter knife.

Sexual tension.

God, I want to sit in his lap.