Exes and O's (The Influencer, #2)(75)
As Trevor and I contemplate all the ways I could have monetized that meme and reclaimed the term, our food arrives. To the waitstaff’s horror, Trevor and I eat slowly, not out of spite, but because we can’t stop talking about random things, like what we’d do in the event of an apocalypse (him: head for fresh water; me: curl up in a ball and succumb to inevitable death) or what we’d choose to eat for our last meal on death row (him: this steak; me: a bag of Cheetos).
A couple emitting some serious first-date vibes is seated at the table next to us as I devour my pasta before it gets cold. “This is exactly why I refuse to date online,” I whisper as the man awkwardly remarks that the woman looks totally different in person than in her profile photo.
We eavesdrop as the woman asks the man whether that’s a “good thing or a bad thing” and proceeds to grow visibly annoyed and understandably offended when he changes the subject.
Trevor gives me his Jim from The Office look, his chest rising and falling with silent laughter. “Yeah. That guy might as well just give up now.”
“I think she’s about to leave,” I mouth.
“Sorry, I was just being honest. You don’t look like your photos,” the man says, his palms up.
Miffed, the woman tosses her cloth napkin on the table with a no-nonsense grumble. “Well, your voice doesn’t match your face. Have a great night, Richard.” Trevor and I (and probably the rest of the patrons) watch in stunned silence as she wrenches her coat from the back of her chair and leaves. I’m tempted to applaud her for having standards, but I’ve already peeved the waitstaff enough tonight.
“Ouch.” Trevor winces from secondhand embarrassment, scrutinizing his napkin before he pats the corner of his mouth with it.
“Something wrong with your napkin?”
“I really don’t like cloth napkins,” he explains.
I lean forward, resting one elbow on the table. “Me either. I mean, I know they’re more environmentally friendly and all.”
He sets the napkin back on his lap. “Whenever I look at them, I think about all the people who’ve used it. Blown their nose in it. They’re always full of lint too. And weird scents. Like hotel towels.”
“This is a wonderful date convo,” I say, unable to stop grinning. “Very romantic.”
He lifts his shoulders. “Hey, you always want to know more about me.”
“Have you always been a germophobic neat freak?”
I expect him to grunt and ignore me, but he lowers his gaze to his empty plate. “My mom worked a lot and didn’t have time to clean. Our place was always a shitshow. We had one of those houses you’d want to wear socks in. Logan and I were too embarrassed to have friends over because of the mess.”
I almost reach to place my hand over his, but I stop myself, settling for a frown instead. “I don’t blame you. Now I feel like a dick for not wiping my crumbs off the counters. Although my crumbs are nothing compared to naked women on the kitchen island,” I tease.
He shakes his head, partially burying his face. “I thought you were gonna leave and never come back that day.”
“Trust me, I contemplated it. But I was pretty desperate for a place to live,” I admit, taking the last sip of my wine. “Was it weird to have a stranger living with you after rooming with Scott for so long?”
“No, actually. That first time we talked—”
“When you gave me Cheetos in the bathroom?”
“Yeah. I felt like I already knew you. It was like we’d been friends for years.”
Womp, womp. There’s that word again. Friends. I deflate a little. “Really? It still took you forever to open up to me.” The fact is, Trevor is a good friend. An amazing friend. While he may not see me romantically, I should be entirely grateful for his support.
He waves away my statement. “Oh, come on. I told you about Angie fairly quickly.”
“You already knew all my emotional trauma by then,” I remind him. “In all seriousness, though, I can’t imagine living with anyone else.”
“Yeah, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who takes care of you like I do.” He gives me that disarming wink again, accompanied by a light tap with his shoe under the table. “Actually, speaking of taking care of yourself, I got called out west to help with the wildfires for a few days. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
I straighten my spine against the padded chair, caught off guard. “Really? Isn’t it the rainy season in Cali right now?”
“It is. But this year is one of the driest in history. I should be gone a couple days. But it’ll be good money. Lots of overtime.” He pauses and lowers his head. “I’m trying to make sure I’ll be back for Angie’s party, though.” There’s an unmistakable somberness in his tone.
“Trev, it’s okay. We could switch it to a date you’re home for sure?”
“No. I already talked to Payton about it. We’re gonna keep it as is. You’ve done too much work to switch it all.”
I nod silently. “Angie will understand if you can’t make it. She’ll miss Flynn Rider, though.”
He lets out a labored sigh, his expression pained. “I’m going to make it. What if it’s her last birthday?”
“It won’t be,” I promise, immediately wishing I could take the words back. They’re cruel to say out loud, because there’s no way to know for sure. “I’ll be there to make sure everything goes perfectly.”