teeth. This day and age, there is no excuse for an overbite.” I didn’t care if Grace thought that was hypercritical. I like a nice smile. Sue me.
“That’s all, huh? Yeah, you’re right, that’s completely normal,” she said as she pushed her sunglasses up on her head.
“Oh, and he needs to not be a khaki folder. But I think that’s it.”
“What the hell is a khaki folder?” Grace asked in disbelief.
“You know, the guys who stop mid-hookup to make sure their khakis are folded and not getting wrinkled on the floor. Those guys have issues.” I stared at Grace for some kind of validation, but Grace was looking at me like I was some kind of alien life form. Apparently, I was on my own on this one.
“You have serious issues,” Grace said as she flagged down her man-orexic friend.
That was hard to argue with considering the list I’d just spewed out.
We approached the bar, and Grace, despite her size, was able to elbow guys who were three times bigger than her out of the way. She ordered us beers and waved enthusiastically for Bobby to come join us. He crushed the butt of his cigarette with his flip-flop and ambled over, a big smile on his face. I felt a thought creep into my head that wasn’t the kind of thought I should have been having if I wanted to make new friends and start to enjoy my life again: maybe this was a very big mistake.
Chapter 5
Damaged Goods
I ALTERNATED BETWEEN staring at Bobby and staring at my flip-flops, afraid that if I made eye contact with him, my nerves would show. He gave Grace a big hug and shook my hand when he introduced himself. As Grace handed me a lukewarm beer, I scanned the crowd for anyone interesting, but the bar seemed to be filled with guys who neglected the gym, their hairlines, and, in all likelihood, the girls they dated. I wondered if it was too late to look into houses on the Cape.
“Hey, you must be Abby,” he said as I shook his impossibly small man hand.
“I am. Nice to meet you, Bobby. Grace told me a lot about you.”
“You’re a kindergarten teacher, right?” he asked, as if my profession was somehow more important than my name.
“Yup.” I realized that I was more out of practice than I’d thought. I didn’t even know how to make small talk with guys. I was screwed.
“Single?” he asked.
“Yup.”
“Interested?”
“Nope.”
“Apparently, you share the verbal communication skills of the kids that you teach,” he quipped with a laugh.
“Only when talking to people who share their maturity level,” I shot back.
Well, this was off to a stellar start.
“Abby!” Grace said as she elbowed me in my side. She turned to Bobby with a smile. “You’ll have to forgive her. Abby is now one of those people whose initial instinct is to dislike everyone she meets until they prove they don’t want to somehow ruin her life. Be nice, Abby. He doesn’t bite.”
Nice. I could do that. It had been a while since I had tried to make friends of the opposite sex. Truth be told, it had been a while since I had really spoken to members of the opposite sex. I hoped it was like riding a bicycle—which I was never particularly good at now that I thought about it.
“Sorry,” I said, and I meant it. I didn’t want him to mistake my nervousness for bitchiness, and it was a very fine line.
“Ahh. I get it. So, who’s the guy?” he asked smoothly, as if it wasn’t an entirely too personal question to ask someone he’d just met.
“What makes you think it’s a guy? How do you know that I’m not just someone who likes to know people before I’m overly friendly to them? If more girls were like me, there’d be a lot less need for pepper spray in this world.”
“It’s always a guy. Do you want to tell me about him?” Bobby asked. He seemed genuine, but I’d come here to get away from Ben and the stigma of being his jilted fiancée, not to tell everyone I met about what happened. I might as well have stamped “damaged goods”
“That’s all, huh? Yeah, you’re right, that’s completely normal,” she said as she pushed her sunglasses up on her head.
“Oh, and he needs to not be a khaki folder. But I think that’s it.”
“What the hell is a khaki folder?” Grace asked in disbelief.
“You know, the guys who stop mid-hookup to make sure their khakis are folded and not getting wrinkled on the floor. Those guys have issues.” I stared at Grace for some kind of validation, but Grace was looking at me like I was some kind of alien life form. Apparently, I was on my own on this one.
“You have serious issues,” Grace said as she flagged down her man-orexic friend.
That was hard to argue with considering the list I’d just spewed out.
We approached the bar, and Grace, despite her size, was able to elbow guys who were three times bigger than her out of the way. She ordered us beers and waved enthusiastically for Bobby to come join us. He crushed the butt of his cigarette with his flip-flop and ambled over, a big smile on his face. I felt a thought creep into my head that wasn’t the kind of thought I should have been having if I wanted to make new friends and start to enjoy my life again: maybe this was a very big mistake.
Chapter 5
Damaged Goods
I ALTERNATED BETWEEN staring at Bobby and staring at my flip-flops, afraid that if I made eye contact with him, my nerves would show. He gave Grace a big hug and shook my hand when he introduced himself. As Grace handed me a lukewarm beer, I scanned the crowd for anyone interesting, but the bar seemed to be filled with guys who neglected the gym, their hairlines, and, in all likelihood, the girls they dated. I wondered if it was too late to look into houses on the Cape.
“Hey, you must be Abby,” he said as I shook his impossibly small man hand.
“I am. Nice to meet you, Bobby. Grace told me a lot about you.”
“You’re a kindergarten teacher, right?” he asked, as if my profession was somehow more important than my name.
“Yup.” I realized that I was more out of practice than I’d thought. I didn’t even know how to make small talk with guys. I was screwed.
“Single?” he asked.
“Yup.”
“Interested?”
“Nope.”
“Apparently, you share the verbal communication skills of the kids that you teach,” he quipped with a laugh.
“Only when talking to people who share their maturity level,” I shot back.
Well, this was off to a stellar start.
“Abby!” Grace said as she elbowed me in my side. She turned to Bobby with a smile. “You’ll have to forgive her. Abby is now one of those people whose initial instinct is to dislike everyone she meets until they prove they don’t want to somehow ruin her life. Be nice, Abby. He doesn’t bite.”
Nice. I could do that. It had been a while since I had tried to make friends of the opposite sex. Truth be told, it had been a while since I had really spoken to members of the opposite sex. I hoped it was like riding a bicycle—which I was never particularly good at now that I thought about it.
“Sorry,” I said, and I meant it. I didn’t want him to mistake my nervousness for bitchiness, and it was a very fine line.
“Ahh. I get it. So, who’s the guy?” he asked smoothly, as if it wasn’t an entirely too personal question to ask someone he’d just met.
“What makes you think it’s a guy? How do you know that I’m not just someone who likes to know people before I’m overly friendly to them? If more girls were like me, there’d be a lot less need for pepper spray in this world.”
“It’s always a guy. Do you want to tell me about him?” Bobby asked. He seemed genuine, but I’d come here to get away from Ben and the stigma of being his jilted fiancée, not to tell everyone I met about what happened. I might as well have stamped “damaged goods”
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