I swipe up on the screen to unlock it, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head when I get a look at the sender of the text.Jake: Just curious, did you get Chandler Bing’s approval before setting me up on a date with his ex-girlfriend Janice?Me: You’re bad.Despite the fact that I was clearly just thinking the same thing, I choose to pretend I’m above such snobbery.
I’m so not above it. Not at all.
And the thing is, I think he knows I’m not.Jake: Although, I think even Chandler himself would be thinking, “Could this woman’s laugh BE any louder?”I have to fight my laugh as another text rolls through.Jake: Holley, it’s almost like it’s staged. Please, I beg of you, find out if she’s doing it on purpose.Me: I’m not asking about it.Jake: Well, I’m not either. I have to sit through the rest of a date. She might poison my food.In order to prevent a Bachelor Anonymous protest right in the middle of his first date, I try my hand at reassurance.Me: Just…ignore the laugh. It’s really not that bad.He looks over Bianca’s shoulder and pointedly rolls his eyes at me. And the truth is, he’s right. There’s a better chance of snow in hell than ignoring Bianca’s laugh for the rest of the meal.Jake: Not that bad? HA. You should take this comedy act on the road, Holley. Also, you’re going to owe me so much for this one. Could you really not find a woman who doesn’t know the difference between genes and jeans?I shouldn’t text back, I know I shouldn’t, but I’m too curious for clarification to stop my fingers from tapping across the screen.Me: What?Jake: Oh, and hypocrites. She doesn’t understand why anyone would think hippos are an insult. They’re “adorbs.”I cover my mouth and look over at him. His eyes are dancing with both pain and the kind of amusement you can’t make up.
Apparently, Bianca’s ditziness is worse than any of us thought.
Their food arrives as I look on, and Jake glances over Bianca’s shoulder at me with relief in his eyes. Something to chew on—something to occupy his mouth. Perhaps, something to occupy hers so she doesn’t laugh any more.
I lean farther into my table and make a couple notes that I will definitely not use for my article because they’re a little mean-spirited, but I kind of want to remember them later so I can have another laugh.
Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but I have very little to live for, okay? I’m single. I have no pets. My best friend is my dad. And I’ve been forced to play fucking matchmaker. Really, I’m allowed to have this.
My waiter arrives with my prime rib, and I salivate just looking at it as he sets it down in front of me. I shove my notes to the side, Jake and Bianca and Chandler Bing long forgotten. It’s all about me and the meat right now.
I cut into the tender beauty and pop a piece in my mouth, a moan setting off a small alarm in my brain that I’m embarrassing myself. It makes me look up and across the room. Jake is staring at me, but his eyes flit away and back to Bianca before making real and true contact with mine.
I go back to my meat, slicing off another bite and shoving it in my mouth.
Man, that’s good. Juicy and tender and moist…
Yikes. Why does it sound like I’m describing something else all of a sudden?
I shake off the thought and tuck back into my meal with single-minded dedication. To be honest, I kind of forget that I’m supposed to be watching Jake and Bianca and taking notes about their interaction.
I’m swiping a piece of my broccoli through the juice on my plate and bringing it to my mouth when a shadow appears over me, making my vegetable look darker green.
I look up, the bite poised at my lips, expecting to find my waiter, but instead, Jake stands there, a grin slathered across the entire bottom half of his face.
“Enjoying the meal?”
Shocked, I look behind him at the table I know he and Bianca occupied not long ago and back at him.
It’s empty, their discarded napkins piled atop the surface, while the busboy scrapes the crumbs from the tablecloth.
“Where’s Bianca?” I say dumbly, broccoli still hovering at my mouth.
“She just left. Date is over.”
“Oh.” How long have I been eating this prime rib? “Already?”
“It was pretty clear by the time we finished the main course that we weren’t a match.”
“Oh. Okay.” I finally abandon the broccoli, putting it back on my plate and taking my napkin from my lap. “I’ll just get my stuff and we can—”
Jake waves a nonchalant hand, pulls out the chair across from me from under the table, and takes a seat. “Sit. Eat. I’m sure you want to debrief, and I’m sure as shit not going to do it on the sidewalk.”