The Bookworm's Guide to Dating (The Bookworm's Guide 1)

It was so fun to hear all the names people called that place. Assisted living, retirement home, old people’s home… I just thought it was a home for the insane elderly for the most part.

Judging by the upcoming duck parade, it wasn’t like I was wrong.ME: Did you know they just got ducks?JAMIE: There was a lady talking about duck-sized bonnets on eBay when I called Aunt Elizabeth.ME: That’ll be Mabel. My friend’s grandma.JAMIE: She sounds like a hoot. Doesn’t help the food problem thoughAnd this was why Kinsley Lane didn’t date.

She was a squirrel, ladies and gentlemen.

She also apparently talked about herself in the third person.

She was exhausting.ME: Sorry. I went off on a tangent. FYI, I’m prone to that.JAMIE: Good to know LOLME: Umm, there’s Bronco’s bar which is owned by my friend’s parents. Hot Stone Pizzeria does great pizza and you can eat in or takeout. Bella Italia is a great eat in place, and there’s also an Indian called Moti Mahal that’s really great.JAMIE: What’s your favorite?ME: Casual or sit down meals?JAMIE: A date, Kinsley.Oh. Duh. Idiot.ME: Bella Italia or Moti Mahal.JAMIE: I’ll check out their websites. If you’re free tomorrow night for dinner?My cheeks burned even though he couldn’t see.ME: I have to close the store at six, but I’ll be good to go from seven-ish.JAMIE: I’ll let you know.ME: Okay, great.Look at me go!

All right, it was a little touch and go when I brought up the ducks, but he hadn’t balked and ran away at my awkwardness, so there was that.

Basically, I really did need Josh to help me after all.

Speaking of Josh… time had swiftly passed while I was texting Jamie, and I was now running late. Quelle surprise.

I dropped my phone and stared at my closet. Without knowing where we were going, I had no idea what to wear. Was it any wonder I rarely dated? It was all too stressful and confusing and that was before I’d even left my own house.

The one thing I could decide upon was heels. No matter where we went, a good pair of black pumps would be suitable, so I pulled out my favorite, most comfortable pair of black stilettos that I’d owned for three years.

Progress.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t getting in any restaurants wearing just shoes.

Damn Josh. I knew why he was testing me like this, but I wasn’t happy about it at all. At least with Jamie it looked like he would tell me where we were going so I’d know what kind of outfit to pull together.

This one was a crapshoot.

Okay, jeans. Jeans were good. Jeans were versatile. Jeans and heels didn’t make one look like a whore, did they?

God, why weren’t there guides for this? Dating guides for bookworms and introverts. That would make life so much easier than it was.

Josh and his attempt at advice didn’t really cut it, did it?

I groaned and pulled out underwear. Now there were two items where it didn’t matter—one, I wasn’t going to have sex with Josh tonight, and two, I didn’t have sex with anyone on the first date.

Fat panties it was.

Yessss.

My feet might be sore by the end of the night, but at least my vagina wouldn’t be getting a wedgie from my panties.

Silver linings.

I eventually settled on a simple white tank top that looked good with the bleached blue jeans and a light pink blazer. It was casual yet still smart, and it was the kind of thing I was comfortable wearing to both Bronco’s or somewhere fancier like Moti Mahal.

Granted, I was literally asking to spill food on my shirt with it being white, but still…

I did my hair and makeup before I got dressed, just in case. I had been known to drop my mascara wand on myself more than once, and I wasn’t sure I had another white t-shirt that wasn’t languishing in my laundry basket.

What could I say? I liked to split my washes by color, and I didn’t wear white often.

Except bras, but that probably explained why most of those so-called white bras were now a little on the greyer side of the color wheel.

I miraculously had five minutes to spare, so I slipped my feet into my heels and, after retrieving my phone from the mess that was my unmade bed, went downstairs. I was going to wait in the living room for Josh so I could see his car coming, but when I got there, I could see his black pickup truck pulled up on the sidewalk.

If he’d driven over my lawn, I was going to kick him.

And let me tell you, with these heels, it was going to hurt.

I dropped my phone into my purse and grabbed my keys from the door. I waited until a string of knocks hammered at my door before I swung it open.