Dating Games(5)

A woman calls out from the opposite end of the bar. “It better have been a ring!”

I point at her. “After this long, I thought it would be. I earned that much. We met during my freshman year of college. The instant I saw him walk into my history class, I no longer cared about the Battle of Bunker Hill. I just wanted him to bunk my hill.”

A roar of laughter tears through the space, causing me to smile for the first time all evening. I look at Nora and Chloe, who both wear bemused expressions on their faces. Maybe this is what Trevor referred to when he said he needed to be with someone more serious. I thought he liked the fact I’m on the eccentric side, that I don’t mind being the center of attention. After all, I minored in theater. Hell, my bold personality is what caught his attention all those years ago.

“When he smiled at me that day…” I trail off, placing my hand over my heart, sighing. “I swore I heard music. I know what you’re thinking,” I add quickly, hoisting myself up onto the bartop so I can address the crowd.

Aiden doesn’t stop me. A smirk forms on his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest, amusement sparkling in his devilish dark eyes. Too bad he’s gay. He would be a great rebound, if I were into that kind of thing.

“That I had probably just come from a meeting of what we called the 420 Club.” I lock eyes with a table full of twenty-something men, who nod in understanding. “You guys know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” They lift their beers, laughing, as I address the rest of the bar once more. “But honestly, I heard music. If hearing music in your head doesn’t mean you’ve just found your fucking soul mate, I probably belong in a straitjacket. Which may be the case anyway, but I digress.” Grabbing my glass, I take another sip of my drink, before continuing.

“I’ve always been a planner. My mother claims I was the one who put her on a schedule for my feedings as a baby, not the other way around. So even when I was a little girl, I knew the type of man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Just my luck that man went to the University of Nebraska, too.”

“Go Huskers!” a voice shouts, and I look in its direction.

“You’re from Nebraska?” I ask a man I estimate to be in his mid-fifties. His skin is pale, gray hair thinning.

He nods. “Kearney.”

“Ah, so you had electricity.”

Chuckling, he nods once more. “Most days.”

“Well, I grew up in a little town called Hickman.” I pause for emphasis, which I learned in some of my acting classes. “Let me repeat that for you. Hick…man, Nebraska. I mean, if that doesn’t scream we marry our cousins, I don’t know what does.”

Laughter fills the space once more. I glance behind me, meeting Aiden’s eyes as he leans against the back counter and winks. He probably didn’t expect there to be an opening act for the band scheduled to play later. I hand him my glass, an unspoken request for him to fill it. Two manhattans and two tequila shots in the span of less than an hour isn’t a smart idea, but being smart isn’t in the cards for me tonight.

“Now, something I should mention is that I have a slight affinity for the number three.” I hold up a hand. “Don’t ask. And no, I’m not OCD and have to lock and unlock the door three times. Except on the third day of the third week of the third month of the year.”

There’s another burst of laughter and applause. Once it dies down, I continue. “I like to think it was a sign when Trevor walked into my history class at exactly 3 PM on September third and proceeded to sit in the third row of the lecture hall… Which also so happened to be the row I sat in because, well, it was the third row. I always sat in the third row.”

I feel a tap on my back and glance behind me to see Aiden handing me a fresh drink. I thank him with a smile, then take a sip before placing the glass beside me on the bar.

“Our relationship began like all good relationships do… By me pretending to be inept at U.S. history so he’d tutor me.” I bat my eyelashes, passing everyone a demure look. “But after our first test and he saw I got the top grade in the class, he realized it was all a ploy. So he asked me out, and the rest is history.

“Fast forward four years. Trevor graduated with a degree in finance. I graduated with a degree in English and a minor in theater, which is probably why I have absolutely no problem telling a bar of complete strangers about my breakup. And my mother said theater would be useless.” I roll my eyes, my expression oozing sarcasm. “I’m proving her wrong this very second. Anyway, after graduation, Trevor was accepted into Columbia Law here in New York. There wasn’t even a question in my mind. I would move to New York with him.”

A nostalgic smile lights up my face as I recall those early days of living in the city. For the longest time, I thought I made a mistake, especially when I was forced to take a cold shower in the middle of winter because the building superintendent hadn’t fixed the hot water heater. Or when the smoke alarm went off anytime I tried to cook because it was placed right above the stove. Or when we lost power on Christmas and had to order Chinese takeout because the meal I’d planned was a lost cause without electricity. At the time, all the disasters made me long for the comfort and space of Nebraska. I now look back on everything and laugh.

“I worked as a bridal assistant for a wedding planner during the day. Honestly, it was the perfect job for someone as obsessed with planning and organization as I am. Essentially, I was the bride’s bitch. ‘You need Voss water instead of Evian? At your service.’ ‘You don’t want your maid of honor to look better than you, even though she’s prettier on the inside and out? That can be arranged. We’ll be sure to pick a dress style that doesn’t complement her body type.’ ‘Don’t want the groom to find out you had one last fling with his best man the night before the wedding? There’s the morning-after pill for that.’