In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1)(88)

And me? I took his f*cking dog for a walk when he had a debilitating f*cking migraine. I f*cking disgust myself.

I drop my head down onto my arms on the counter and groan.

“Shit, Leo!” I say.

“What? What’s wrong?” Now I’ve scared the kid.

“What’s wrong is that I’m a shit boyfriend. Absolute shit. I don’t know what I’m doing. I have no f*cking clue.”

Leo is wide-eyed, staring at me with his mouth half open. God knows why he liked me in the first place, but whatever hero worship he had is, I’m sure, dying a writhing death on the counter between us as we speak. I’m a grown man and I have no idea how to date someone. No idea at all.

“Um,” Leo starts, with a mommy-and-daddy-are-fighting expression. “Well, my sister always says she’ll forgive a guy anything if he buys her flowers.”

“Uh-huh, and how old is your sister?”

“Sixteen.”

“Yeah. Well, you should tell your sister that’s a crap policy.”

“Okay, well, why don’t you take him on a really nice date? My sister says—”

“No offense, Leo, but I’m going to go ahead and say I don’t care what your little sister thinks about dating.”

“No, no, this is a good one. She says a well-conceived date shows that you pay attention to the person. That you know what they like to do and you want to show them a good time.”

That makes sense. I was probably supposed to ask Rex out on a date after he took me to dinner, so things were equal. I’ve never asked someone on a date before. Never planned one. But I know what Rex likes. Old movies and good food. This will be fine.

“Right, okay.” I tell Leo. “A date. I can do that.”

But he doesn’t look totally convinced.




ON FRIDAY, I pick Rex up at his house because it seems a date-like thing to do. He looks amazing in tight black jeans that mold to his muscular thighs and round ass and one of those thick oatmeal-colored sweaters that I associate with ski lodges and Irish whiskey ads. The thick sweater makes him look even larger than usual, like if he held me I’d be warm and safe forever.

“Wow,” I say. “You look amazing.”

Rex’s smile is brilliant. Against the light sweater, his skin looks tan and luminous, his reddish brown stubble darker than usual. His hair falls in his face as he leans down to kiss me and I can’t help but push one hand into the soft strands and pull him closer with the other, feeling the incredible warmth he always gives off. Now there’s a light scent of wool and cedar added to his usual pine and wood smoke smell.

“You wouldn’t say where we were going,” he says, “so I went with something versatile.”

“Oh, well, it’s nothing too exciting, so—”

“I don’t care what we do,” Rex says, elbowing me gently like I should know better.

“No, I know. I just wanted to take you out on a real date. I’ve never really done that before. Anyway, should we go?”

I’m actually really pleased with myself for finding anything to do in this town that Rex might like. I’m taking Rex to dinner and then to see The Phantom of Liberty, which, according to the chair of my department, is a classic of Surrealist French cinema from the 1970s, and he can’t believe I didn’t know that there’s a film series on campus. I figure with his love for classic movies, Rex will be totally into it, and since it’s French, he’s less likely to have already seen it.

Rex is in a great mood. At dinner, in a cozy round booth, Rex tells me about custom furniture pieces he’s seen that he’d like to try making and teases me about things he’s heard people saying about me around town. Apparently, Carrie and Naomi, the high-school-age waiters at the diner, talk about my clothes, my hair, and—Rex elbows me—how cute I am. I get the feeling that, since Rex barely talks to anyone when he’s out, he overhears a lot. Probably even a lot that he isn’t telling me.

When I tell him about Marjorie and The Daniel, he lets out a low, rolling laugh I haven’t heard before.

As we’re eating our entrées, Rex says, “How much of you asking me on a date is because of Will?” He doesn’t sound mad or disappointed or anything, just curious.

“What? None of it.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not judging. God knows I got jealous enough of that guy Jay, even if he wasn’t actually after you.”

I squirm.

“Oh, um, well, you were right, it turns out. About Jay. I forgot to tell you before because of Will showing up, but he sort of asked me out on Friday, before I left for Detroit. Last Friday, I mean.”

“What did you say?” Rex asks evenly.

“I said no,” I say, studying his face for a reaction. But he looks as calm as ever.

“How come?”

His voice is casual but his expression is intense. Like he’s trying very hard not to lead me in answering.

“I—because I… we—I guess I thought we—I mean, I don’t know… maybe we’re not….”

“You said no because we’re dating?”

I wouldn’t have necessarily put it like that. Rex is not Richard, I repeat over and over in my head, as if Ginger were yelling it at me. I nod miserably, but a warm smile spreads across his face.