But wait. That wasn’t all that sucked about him.
Yates looked at his watch. For the third time.
“Do you have somewhere to be?” I asked, feeling hopeful. Maybe he had an urgent meeting he needed to get to or a date with the devil to give him yet another
piece of his mostly empty soul.
He shook his head. “I’m just checking my heart rate to see if you turn me on.”
It took me a full thirty seconds to process what he had just said. “What?” I asked, caught completely off guard. Was he serious?
“Yeah. If I’m into you, my heart rate will increase.”
Um…
“So you don’t know if you’re turned on by someone? It’s a mystery to you?” That was just about the dumbest thing I’d ever heard. Who didn’t know if they had the tingle with someone? No one is bewildered by their reactions to people. We know what they mean. We know the difference between attraction and anger and apathy. My blood pressure and heart rate were through the roof, and I knew one hundred percent it was because he was an appalling human being. It’s not like I was mistaking that for wanting some sexy times. It wasn’t hard to interpret what I was feeling.
“To be honest, I’m on the fence about you,” he said. “I don’t usually like gingers. I’m trying to gauge if that’s affecting my ability to picture myself inside you.”
Inside you? Had he really just said that?
“I’ll be right back,” I said, shoving my chair back and standing up. I grabbed my purse. I was tempted to just exit the bar and never return, but I wasn’t convinced he would pay for my food. I headed toward the restroom to gather myself together, seeking out my waitress on the way.
I found the waitress near the bar in the back and I handed her my credit card. “Can you charge me for just the calamari?” I asked.
She nodded. “Getting out?” she asked sympathetically. “I got the feeling it was a first date, and trust me, in this neighborhood I see a lot of the self-important type. That guy reeks of it.”
“Normally, I’m all for sticking it out, but this was too much.” The worst being his comments about this very waitress, who was smiling and pleasant and had a perfectly lovely face. Ugh. Yates Caldwell needed to choke on his lemon slice.
As the waitress went to run my card, I dipped into the ladies’ room and pulled out my phone. The girls and I had a group text. I wrote NEXT and hit send.
My phone buzzed. I had a text from Yates.
Dude, not feeling the redhead. She’s kind of a bitch.
The blood drained out of my face. He had sent me a text criticizing me to me. To. Me. Was that intentional or had he actually meant to send it to a friend? Not that it mattered, honestly.
And wait a minute. Me, a bitch? I’ve been called any number of things—naïve, gullible, a Pollyanna—but never a bitch. Apparently, even mildly calling him out for being a shallow prick about the waitress made me a bitch.
I freshened my lipstick and smoothed my hair in the mirror before rolling my shoulders and pushing the door open. I got my credit card back from the waitress, and signed the slip leaning on the bar. Then I just went back to the table, purse in one hand, my phone in the other, feeling outraged on behalf of all women who had to put up with arrogant, rude men.
“You texted me that you think I’m a bitch,” I said. “So this bitch is going back to Brooklyn. If you’re not sure how to feel about that, check your watch.”
With that, I left. He didn’t say a word.
It was his best move of the night.
The door opened and I looked up, surprised. Savannah had only been gone ninety minutes. An hour of that had to have been travel time.
“Hey,” I said, on the floor on my stomach playing with Sully. I was building blocks for him and he was alternating knocking them down and chewing on them. “That was quick.”
Savannah blew her hair out of her eyes, closed the door, and flung her purse on the end table. “That was a total waste of time. Yates was gross. A total jerk who told me he was going to tip the waitress really well since she badly needed a nose job.”
“What?” I rolled over and sat up. “Who the hell says something like that? Out loud?”
“He also sent me this text when I went to the restroom.” Savannah handed me her phone.
I read the text. “Is he talking about you?” I asked, outraged. “What the actual fuck?” Then I realized what I had said and covered Sully’s ears. “You didn’t hear that.”