Read Online Truth or Date by Susan Hatler - Free Book Online Page B

friendly enough.
    It turned out John and I both went to school at Sac State and we exchanged stories about a couple of mutual professors we’d had in general studies. He majored in Sociology, having no idea what he wanted to do, and somehow ended up in software sales. I laughed at his tales of changing multiple careers after grad since I’d been interested in accounting practically since birth.
    A couple hours later, Wanda started yawning and suggested we call it a night. Outside the entrance we parted ways with the others, leaving Chris and me alone.
    ****
    We ambled down the sidewalk, passing the first block without talking until I decided to break the silence. “I liked getting to know everyone.” Well, with the exception of Ms. H.R. who clearly had the hots for my pretend boyfriend and wore skirts that should be rated R. “You’re gonna be working with some great people so that should put you at ease that the change will go smoothly. Did you have a good time?”
    He shrugged. “Good enough.”
    I didn’t want to press into his private business, even as his pretend girlfriend, but I’d never seen him so quiet before. “Something’s clearly bothering you. Did you get a hate text at dinner or something?”
    The corner of his mouth tipped up. “A what?”
    “Bad news. I don’t know.” Seeing him smile a bit felt refreshing and as we passed a bar I’d never been to I suddenly had an idea. “Want to get another drink?”
    “You mean now?”
    “Come on.” Being brave, I laced my arm through his. “My treat, honey .”
    Both corners of his mouth turned up now. “In that case . . . ”
    We exchanged a smile as Chris held the door open for me, then we got drinks at the bar and took them to a round green vinyl booth in the back corner. Not too many people in here—an older couple facing each other on bar stools, a young guy by the front window drinking alone and texting on his phone, and a few guys at a table with their eyes glued to some sports replay on TV—but not completely dead for a Thursday.
    I glanced around and spotted an actual jukebox on the back wall—no joke—and I made Chris get some change from the bar while I eyed the songs. No songs were going right now so we controlled the playlist. Sweet.
    The jukebox, it turns out, had a wide selection of music—current and old. I pressed my lips together. “Hmm. . . What’re we feeling?”
    “Something upbeat. I’ll pick.” Wearing a smirk, he bumped his hip against mine, moving me aside so he could make the selection. I gasped. Oh, no way. I shoved my shoulder into his arm (since he was a bit taller than me), inching myself in front of the glass to view the options and the battle over the buttons began. The back and forth nudging didn’t last long, but I found myself breathless from the feel of Chris rubbing against me. We’d never done that in the office.
    I won—though I’m guessing he let me, because he’s like six feet and in shape and I’m five-six and, well, not. I quickly chose an album by The Fray. Seconds later, the slow and steady piano notes of Never Say Never rang out and I slid back into our rounded booth ahead of him, a victorious smile plastered across my face. “Thanks for letting me decide, honey. You rock my world.”
    “Letting? You have a strangely broad definition of that word.” Scooching in beside me, Chris brought the brown bottle to his lips, taking a swig of beer as we listened to the heartfelt lyrics. “This song is depressing. How can you stand it?”
    Under the table, I bounced my knee into his in protest. “It’s romantic.”
    He listened to a few more lines, set his bottle on the table, then scoffed. “See? Depressing. They’re fighting.”
    “So?” I enjoyed the angst and agony in the singer’s voice. All the tension building up meant an increased ah-factor when they got back together in the end. “The song finishes on a happy note with them working things out. It’s a great choice. Thanks for