The Lying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #5)(9)

JB: Financial planning and investments.

Me: So what you’re saying is, you’re good at math, and probably science too.

JB: I get by okay, LOL. I’m not a tutor or anything.

Me: But you could be?

JB: Incidentally, my roommate is actually a math tutor.

Me: Is he a wrestler, too?





Abe


I wonder how much to tell her about me. I mean, I’m supposed to be pretending to be JB, not giving her the dirt on myself. I’ve never done that before, given personal details that weren’t about my roommate.

And now I am.

What is it about this girl that has me breaking my own rules?

Rule 1: Don’t get personal. This is not your account.

Rule 2: Do not get personal. This is not your account.

Rule 3: Start the conversation, but don’t get invested.

Rule 4: These girls come and go like yesterday’s practice routine. Don’t get attached to any of them. They are not for you.

Rule 5: See all of the above. Repeat.

Once JB takes this Blue Sky girl out on a date, he’ll never speak to her again, so what good would it do me to continue having this in-depth conversation with her? She’s only going to get dumped after he realizes she’s not going to sleep with him.

No. She’s going to want to get to know him first, and he’ll never put in the time required for a girl like her.

She’s a keeper; I can already tell.

My heart pounds in my chest when I stare down at her last message, the yellow conversation bubble mocking me.

Suddenly I feel like a fucking idiot, speaking about myself in the third person, although she has no idea that’s what’s happening here, no idea I’m pretending to be someone else.

BlueAsTheSky: There you go again with the good grammar. Swoon! Both commas in the proper place? You’re on a roll here, JB. Keep it up.

Me: You sure you’re not an English major?

BlueAsTheSky: No! I love to read, but I’m not a writer. Not by a long shot. I’m definitely the creative type, but I can never remember if it’s I before E except after C…

Me: Sounds about right.

BlueAsTheSky: But I still have to say it when I’m spelling words! I SAY IT OUT LOUD, JB, not in my head. LOL I’m so ridiculous.

Me: Do you use your fingers to do math?

BlueAsTheSky: Only when I’m multiplying by 9.

Me: Huh? That makes no sense.

BlueAsTheSky: Let me see if I can explain this so it makes sense (I had an old tutor teach me this trick in—no lie—fourth grade): whenever you need to multiply by nine, you count on your fingers the number you’re multiplying by. So, say it’s nine times seven. Take your seventh finger and fold it down. You now have six fingers on the left side of the seventh, 3 on the right. The answer is 63.

BlueAsTheSky: That is seriously the only way I can multiply by nine. I suck SOOOO bad. Don’t judge me now that I’ve told you my secret, and NEVER bring it up again.

I stare down at my fingers and mentally calculate nine times five—then fold down the fifth finger on my left hand. Four fingers remain on that hand, five on the other. Forty-five.

Me: Holy shit, you’re right.

BlueAsTheSky: Yeah, I guess you could count it as a stupid party trick, but it only works for nines. Which totally screwed me during math exams since I’m horrible at all multiplication and not just nines. Sigh.

BlueAsTheSky: My teachers were probably so confused about why I was killing it with that number but failing the rest. I’m so awkward sometimes. Actually, I’m awkward all the time.

If she’s anything like this in person, there is no doubt in my mind that I would find her fucking delightful.

Me: Bullshit, you are not.

BlueAsTheSky: Okay, I’m not. I actually talk a lot and am quite personable, LOL

Me: Random question.

BlueAsTheSky: Fire away

Me: Is your name Blue, or…something else? I can’t figure out what BlueAsTheSky means. Are your eyes blue, or did you just randomly make it up?

BlueAsTheSky: It’s not randomly made up. I mean, it is, but it has to do with my name.

Me: Which you have no intention of telling me?

BlueAsTheSky: No, not yet. Sorry, I’m still a little gun-shy.

Me: That’s okay. I totally get it.

BlueAsTheSky: Besides, it’s not like JB is your actual name, so technically I don’t know yours either.

Yeah, and she never will, because my initials will never be JB because I am not Jack Bartlett and never will be.

Me: JB is obviously my initials.

BlueAsTheSky: Obviously, lol

Me: I’m not nearly as creative as you.

BlueAsTheSky: You couldn’t get any less creative with your profile name if you tried. Which you clearly did not. LOL

Me: I’m not usually a fan of sarcasm, but I find yours irresistible.

JB hates being mocked or teased in any way. He’s kind of a sensitive prick, actually. A titty baby, as an old member of the team used to call Jack when he was a freshman.

Zeke Daniels has long since departed, but some of the shit he said stuck with me.

Like my roommate being a complete sissy when it comes to taking direction or being the subject of a joke. So much so that I feel the need to point this out to Blue, even though we haven’t gotten to the part where I’m setting her up on a date with Jack.