Fall From Grace(35)

That made his pouting stop.  He kissed me on the cheek.  “I can’t wait to take you out on Wednesday, but more than that, I can’t wait for you to see me play on stage on Friday!”

“So go practice!” I pretended to be excited.  You insane psycho!  I think I need to get a very contagious stomach virus before this date.

I walked home alone; my small glimpse of contentment gone.




Chapter 7

Unfortunately, I woke up Wednesday healthy and perfectly able to go on a date with Tucker.  I was so entirely against it that Lea stayed home from work to spend the day being Tucker’s cheerleader.  The more I tried to explain to her that I didn’t want to go on the date, the more disappointed she seemed; she was killing me.

Lea always had this fairy-tale delusion of us marrying best friends or brothers.  We would go on double dates, be each other’s maid of honor and live next door to each other.  She had an extensive map laid out of her life, with everything she had planned to do etched in with permanent marker.  Little did she know that when people make plans for their lives, God just laughs and makes his own.

Lea whined continuously about giving Tucker a chance as she primped and prettied me up.

She dressed me in a dangerously low cut silver blouse that hugged my body like a glove.  A pair of black stretch pants, so no buttons would be broken Lea reasoned, and my over the knee black leather boots.  My long black hair fell in thick shiny soft waves and my eyes were smoky and sexy; a dangerous look for someone who really didn’t want to go on a date.

At 5:45, I was presented to Conner, who had sat in the living room for the last hour conspiring with Lea in telling me all the wonderful attributes of Tucker Bevli.

“Very hot,” Conner appraised me.

I stood in front of our full-length mirror.  I groaned and leaned my head on his shoulder looking away.  “You aren’t helping me at all.” I playfully punched him in the stomach. “I don’t want to date Tucker.”

Lea put her arm around my waist and turned me to face the mirror again.  “You are going to go on this date, whether you like it or not.  And you should let that insanely, rich, jaguar driving, Gucci wearing Greek god take you out more, and then you should pull the pole from up your ass and sleep with him.”  Then she smacked me on the ass.  Hard.

I watched myself in the mirror jump from the slap and laugh.

Five minutes later, Tucker texted me on my cell phone to tell me he was outside.  He didn’t even come in to get me.  Didn’t even call, just texted.  Prince Freaking Uncharming. Strike one.  I shook the thought and dragged myself outside to his waiting car.

I was assaulted by cologne when I opened the passenger side door for myself.  Strike two. He slid close to me and pecked me on the corner of my mouth with a kiss, wetly.  I clasped my hands together to stop myself from wiping it away.  Strike three.

“Are you ready for the best date of your life?” he asked; eyes sparkling, hair gelled to the sky.

“Well, aren’t we filling me with expectations,” I laughed.  “Best date ever?  Will I get to rate it after on a scale of 1 to 10?”

He gave me a thoughtful look and then smiled, “Nah, just a typed up report on my desk by morning.”  He laughed at his own joke.

“That would mean you’d have to make it worth writing about.”  I was a bit intrigued by what he might think the best date of my life would be, certain that it would be the furthest thing from the truth.  “The question I have is whether you are trying to impress me, make me happy, or just make yourself immortal?”