Read Online Twitterpated by Melanie Jacobson - Free Book Online Page B

my list of places to go. I’m planning a world food tour, where all I do is eat amazing food and shop.”
    “I’m with you on the food, but I’m not too big on shopping,” he said.
    “It’s good planning. If I spend the whole vacation eating, I’ll have to buy clothes to fit as I grow.”
    He gave me an admiring look. “That is a good plan. I hope you never use your talents for evil.”
    “No worries. It’s against my religion.”
    “Oh, right. Mine too. Hey, can we skip France on the tour? I spent three days in Paris, and I think French food might be overrated.”
    “You’re so right. I hear it’s better when you get out of Paris, but when I visited there after high school, we never left the city, and I would have starved without the crepe stands.”
    “Tell me about it,” he agreed. “I think . . .” and then he trailed off, staring at my chin.
    Uh-oh.
    “Um, you have something right here,” he said, pointing to his own chin.
    I snatched my napkin and took a swipe at it.
    “Did I get it?” I asked, mortified that I even had to.
    “No, it’s more on the left,” he clarified with a small wave.
    I swiped again, but he immediately shook his head and said, “I meant your other left.” He reached over with his own napkin to help while I wondered if humiliation could literally petrify me. Just then his elbow brushed against the vase on the table and sent it flying off the edge. It crashed to the floor with a cringe-worthy shatter. He froze too. That freed me to move, and I grabbed the napkin from his hand that had been en route to me. I did a full side-to-side swipe of my chin and returned the linen to the table. I made a split-second decision between slinking out and never showing my face in public ever again or rolling with the punches.
    “So you lied about being a klutz?” I asked, as our server scurried over to handle the mess.
    That startled a laugh from him, and the next half hour disappeared in a blink as we swapped embarrassing moment stories. I didn’t realize how fast it went until the waiter appeared with a dessert menu and I snuck a glance at my watch.
    “What do you think? They have great pie,” Ben said.
    “I like pie.” More to the point though, I liked spending time with Ben. Unfortunately, my job intruded. “The desserts look awesome,” I answered. “But I have to get back.”
    “Oh, right,” he said, looking vaguely disappointed . . . a good sign? “Let me get the check.” He handed the server some bills and sat back while he waited for the change. “I hate to tell you this, but . . .”
    My stomach clenched.
    “I don’t think you’re going to make it as a TWIT,” he finished.
    “I’m crushed,” I said, relieved to know I didn’t have anything clinging to my nose or more food decorating my face.
    “Yeah. Sorry about that. You’re kinda normal.”
    “It’s a curse.”
    “Well, I’m on a twelve-step program to quit clubs anyway. I resign from the TWITs. I have a new plan.”
    “Oh, do tell,” I encouraged him.
    “I thought I might ask you out again—no clubs involved. What do you think?”
    “Hmm.” I pretended to mull it over while doing a victory dance inside. “A chance to get to know the man behind the title. Tempting.”
    “I’ve got all kinds of hidden talents you don’t know about yet.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like dope mime skills.”
    “Seriously?”
    “No.”
    “Thank goodness. And I’m not a big fan of clowns either,” I confessed. “Is that un-American?”
    “Do you like hot dogs and baseball?” he asked.
    “Only if the hot dogs are grilled and the games are live. I can’t watch it on TV.”
    “I guess I know what to plan for our next date,” he said.
    “There’s no baseball in January,” I protested.
    “There is if you want it.”
    “This I gotta see.”
    “So it’s a date?”
    “Yes,” I answered. “I guess it is.”
    “Cool. Let’s plan for this weekend. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll firm up the details.