The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob(23)
“What else does he stand to gain by having dinner with me?”
“Dating you.”
Sparkling grape juice fizzles in my veins at the idea that Levi wants me. “If being seen in public with a non-famous, everyday woman was the goal, he has local friends with normal friends who could set him up. He could find a matchmaker for the stars. He could walk into any café in the city and hit on a barista. But he not only asked me to dinner, he basically promised we’d be completely alone.”
“Like in the serial killer kind of way?”
“Yes.”
“Which means he’s into you.”
Is he? It’s the question I keep asking myself. When I went to see him, he was funny and charming and attentive and just a bit of a hot mess himself. Plus, she’s right. He showed me his abs when he probably has scars elsewhere. “I keep asking myself if I’d say yes if he was just a customer who came into the shop instead of a hot superstar, and I don’t know, because I can’t picture him as anything other than Levi Wilson. You know?” Except seeing him with his mom—I think I can.
“You turned down three customers last year.”
“One was barely out of high school, the second was the first’s great-grandfather, and the third asked Yasmin and three other customers out before he left the shop.” All of whom were happily married and had been for years.
“And you politely rejected our server at Easter brunch.”
“He kept grimacing every time Hudson missed his mouth and dropped food on the floor and only asked me out after I tipped him well.”
“And that single dad at Zoe’s school.”
“No spark.”
“So there’s a spark with our dear Mr. Wilson.”
“How can there not be?”
“Eh. He’s too skinny for me.”
I laugh, but she’s nailed my issue.
Self-esteem and confidence. I am not skinny. I’m on my feet all day at work, and I do the occasional yoga or high intensity workout with YouTube videos, but I’ve also had three kids and I eat their leftovers for my own lunches and dinners between dashing them around to their extra-curricular activities. I haven’t shaved my legs in months, and my eyes have permanent bags.
“Don’t start that,” Portia says softly.
“You know what I miss from my Army days?”
“The chow hall?”
I laugh. “My arms. I had the best arms.”
“You still do, boo. And if Levi Wilson sees it, then you need to let that man take you to dinner. Provided I get to track your phone’s location and you text me every fifteen to thirty minutes so that we can make sure this isn’t an elaborate scheme to kidnap single mothers for government experiments to turn you into a superhero.”
“What?”
“One day, they’re finally gonna clue in to the fact that we women would make the better superheroes, and then we’ll be in serious trouble. Think about it. Who else can get the laundry done in the morning, work a ten-hour shift, get dinner on the table, and then swing from the rooftops for the next couple hours fighting secret alien invasions better?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, boo. Now go take a leap.”
Eight
From the text messages of Levi Wilson and Ingrid Scott
Ingrid: I discussed your offer with my best friend in the entire universe, and since you’ve promised you’re not going to murder me and bury me somewhere that no one can find me, she wants to know if you’re instead planning to kidnap me so that the government can do experiments on me and turn me into a superhero.
Levi: Ah, she’s mistaking me for Davis. Common misunderstanding, since he hasn’t been seen since our Bro Code days.
Ingrid: Rumor in my part of town is that he got a new job. gif of Bigfoot
Levi: And there goes my drink out my nose…
Ingrid: Picture or it didn’t happen.
Levi: picture of himself raising an eyebrow on the bruised side of his face while lounging on a couch with a big wet spot on his white T-shirt Happy now?
Ingrid: laughing emoji I’m saving this to prove to my kids that I really am funny sometimes.
Levi: Take the win where you can get it. Happy to be of service. So. Dinner.
Ingrid: It’s a good meal. One of my three favorites.
Levi: Ah, you’re a normal human.
Ingrid: Or a big dork.
Levi: No, I mean, not like my buddy Beck. He eats seven or eight meals a day.
Ingrid: Like a hobbit?
Levi: Exactly. His wife started naming them.
Ingrid: She named his hobbits?
Levi: Haha. No. She named his meals.
Ingrid: Just checking. You’re recovering fine then? Back on screen time, I see.
Levi: My mother’s sleeping. Don’t tell her.
Ingrid: You sound like a teenager.
Levi: I know. eye roll emoji shh emoji bandaged head emoji rock star emoji
Ingrid: Your emoji game is a little weak. Portia’s pre-teen could kick your ass in emoji speak.
Levi: I’ll concede to the pre-teen emoji master if you’ll tell me what you want to eat when I take you to dinner.
Ingrid: Anything hot that’s supposed to be hot and cold that’s supposed to be cold?