Erasing Faith(38)
“How did he even know we were roommates?”
“He was standing on the sidewalk outside our apartment the other day, probably waiting for you to come home. He must’ve recognized me from the speed-dating night,” Margot explained, her eyelashes fluttering. “Or, maybe from the fact that when I saw him my jaw dropped, I stopped in my tracks, and screamed Ohmigod, Wes! It’s you!’”
I snorted. “Oh, great. Very subtle, Margot.”
“So, where did he take you?”
“Elvarázsolt.”
“Ohmigod! That place is like impossible to get reservations at. And it’s ridiculously pricey.” Margot’s eyes were wide with appreciation. “That man is not f*cking around. He must really want to bang you.”
“Margot!”
She giggled. “Oh, fine. He must really like you. Totally platonically, I’m sure. Like a doting older brother or a completely non-creepy uncle. That’s why he chose that dress.” She eyed my neck and hemlines.
I blushed for the millionth time tonight.
“Did he kiss you?”
“On the forehead, like a good brother.” I smirked.
Margot sighed. “Damn. Well, when are you seeing him again?”
“Tomorrow night. He’s picking me up at seven.”
“What?!” she exclaimed. “But that gives us basically no time to prepare!”
I stared at her quizzically. “Prepare for what?”
“The fact that you’re even asking me that question is exactly the reason we need more than—” She glanced at the clock. “Twenty-one hours to prepare you.”
“I have work and class all day tomorrow,” I pointed out.
Margot threw her hands in the air, disgusted. “Well, that’s just perfect!”
Against my will, a flurry of incredulous giggles escaped.
“I’m happy one of us is taking your dating life seriously,” she muttered.
“You do realize how backwards the logic behind that statement is, right?”
She glared at me. “Until I find a boyfriend, I will be living vicariously through you. Channeling my sexually-frustrated powers for good, so to speak. Deal with it.”
I sighed deeply and tried to ready myself for whatever Margot had up her sleeve. No doubt she was about to spend the next twenty-odd hours imparting all manner of dating tips and tricks on me, while also coordinating the perfect outfit and coaching me on the dos and don’ts of starting a new relationship. As though I’d never been on a first — well, technically, second — date before.
I closed my eyes and resigned myself to the fact that there was no possible way I’d get my history homework done before bed tonight. Hell, I might not even make it to class tomorrow, if Margot was feeling determined. In a match between Professor Varga and my tenacious roommate, there was no doubt about who’d win. Where Margot was concerned, I knew all too well that any resistance was futile.
***
“I can’t believe you brought flashcards to dinner.”
“I was worried you might bore me to death,” I teased, trying to cover my deep mortification. I was going to kill Margot. She’d been the one with the genius suggestion that I bring discussion points with me on my date. In fact, it hadn’t been so much a suggestion as a demand, considering I’d had zero choice in the matter. After I’d refused to bring them along, she’d evidently thought it was a great idea to shove them in my purse when I wasn’t looking. I didn’t even notice them — at least, not until they came spilling out during dinner, when I clumsily knocked my clutch off the side of the table. Of course, Wes had seen them and immediately demanded an explanation.
He arched one dark eyebrow.
I took a sip of my wine. “Oh, relax. They’re only conversation starters. It’s supposed to be a fun, get-to-know-you thing. Or, you know…” I shrugged casually. “A fail-safe if things get dull and we run out of things to talk about.”
“You really doubted my ability to make basic conversation for the course of a single meal?”
I pressed my lips together to keep in a giggle. “Do you want the honest answer or the fake, we’re-on-a-first-date-so-I’ll-compliment-you-even-if-you-have-lettuce-in-your-teeth answer?”
Wes stared at me with an indecipherable look on his face. “You are so weird.”
“Yes, we’ve covered this.” I heaved another sigh. “And?”
His crooked smile appeared. “Just give me the cards.”
“No! You can’t have the cards. You made fun of the cards.”
Deftly, in a move so fast I could barely track it, he reached across the table and plucked the stack from my grip.
“I don’t like you,” I muttered.
“Yes, we’ve covered this,” he mocked. “And?”
I shook my head in vexation.
He’d picked me up an hour ago. I’d been sitting in my bedroom, listening to Margot’s endless dating advice, when the loud, unmistakable rumbling of a motorcycle pulled up outside our apartment. We’d both raced to the window and jockeyed for the best view. I think our mouths had dropped open in unison as we’d watched Wes, clad in a dark gray, distressed leather jacket, dismount from the bike and saunter up to the front door like he owned the place.