Victor (Chicago Blaze 3)

Lindy: Okay. I’m gonna read like I don’t have to get up early in the morning, but I do. Safe travels back home.

Me: I can’t wait for our date.

Lindy: I’m excited too.

Me: Goodnight, gorgeous girl.

Lindy: Goodnight.Chapter Twenty-OneLindyAri steps back and admires her work on my hair and makeup.

“I feel like a proud mom,” she says, running a hand over my smooth, perfectly straight hair. “My baby’s first date with a hot hockey player.”

I get a good look at myself in her bathroom mirror, turning from side to side to take everything in. She gave me a full makeover, and I can’t believe the final result.

“I don’t even look like me.”

“You do so,” she says crossly. “This is just a sleeker version of you, mama. Blown out hair and smoky eyes suit you.”

“I feel like a clown.”

“Well, put on some big floppy shoes and go with it, because you look hot and I’m not changing it. This was our compromise—no hoochie top, but I get to do your makeup.”

I roll my eyes. “Why can’t I live in a world where subtle clothes and makeup exist?”

Ari groans loudly. “This is subtle, Lindy. I didn’t use any glitter.”

My eyes widen and my feet start moving of their own volition. I have to get out of here before she gets any ideas about adding anything else.

“I still say you should wear this,” she says, holding up a scrap of black fabric she’s been trying to loan me for my date with Victor. “It’ll knock him off his feet.”

“I appreciate it, but I’m going with my trusty jeans and hoodie.”

“It’s a date. At least wear heels and a v-neck top.”

“We’re going out for burgers and ice skating. And this is me. I don’t want him to think I’m trying to be someone I’m not.”

Ari begrudgingly agrees. “You look gorgeous no matter what you’re wearing.”

I glance at the time on my phone, feeling a flutter in my belly. “I have to get going.”

Squealing, Ari grabs me in a hug. “Text me at least ten times during the date. I want to know everything. I’d prefer photos.”

I laugh as I squeeze her back. “I’ll do my best. Thanks for today. You’re the best best friend ever.”

“Don’t make me cry.” She pulls back and waves a hand, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “This guy I’m going out with tonight could be the one, and I want to look my best.”

“He’s not the one, Ari,” I assure her.

“You don’t know that.”

“Any guy who asks if you swallow before you’ve even met him is not the one.”

She frowns. “We can’t all get with Victor Lane, you know.”

“There are plenty of other nice men out there. You don’t even give the nice ones a chance.”

Her hands on my shoulders as she stands behind me, Ari rushes me to the front door of her apartment. “Thanks, Mom. Have a good time tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Once she closes the door behind me, I take a deep breath, a wave of nervousness rising over me. The whole walk to the El Train, I think about what could go wrong tonight.

I could trip and fall, scratching up my face as I hit the ground and then bleeding all over Victor in a most unsexy fashion.

A fart could sneak up on me out of nowhere just as he’s about to kiss me, ruining the moment.

I could blurt out the news that I had a poster of him in my room for years, and that I kissed it goodnight so many times you could see the wet lip prints if you looked at it from the right angle.

Being me, I’m prepared for my goofy, awkward moments. But I’ve never had to worry about a man I’m crazy about witnessing them until Victor. I’m not sure this dating thing is my jam.

An older guy on the El Train moves from his seat to sit across from me, and then starts rubbing his crotch as he looks at me. I mouth “pervert” at him until he at least looks in another direction. Just another ride on the El Train, it’s nothing unusual.

It’s almost November, and the walk home is cold. I wrap my old black coat around me tightly, reminding myself again that I need to take it down to my neighbor Beth and have her sew on a new zipper. I never remember until it’s so cold that I don’t want to leave my coat with her, even for a few days.

When I get home, I notice the unfamiliar scent of lemon as I walk through the front door.

“Dad?” I call out as I slide off my coat.

“Hey, in here.” He sticks his head in the doorway between our kitchen and living room.

I walk to the kitchen and see that he’s…mopping the floor. My dad has never once mopped. I’ve been the only one to do anything beyond washing the dishes in this kitchen for the last twenty years.