get behind, one that appealed to my sense of time-management. I sighed. “Okay, fine, but only half an hour, and no asking personal questions.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He led the way down the street, but paused to ensure I was at his side. Which was also nice. Harrison had a tendency to walk ahead of me because his legs were so much longer, and when I asked him to wait, he’d tell me I was walking too slow.
The pizza place was a hole in the wall around the corner. When we went up to the counter and ordered, Jeremy paid and I let him. Even for a woman with a Herstory bumper sticker, I had to admit it was nice to not have to pay individually like Harrison and I always had. It just seemed more efficient when one person paid.
Jeremy ordered two slices of pepperoni and mushroom and a Coke. Turning up my nose to salad, I ordered one slice of cheese and another Sprite. The slices were huge and greasy and smelled delicious.
“What about your diet?” he asked when we sat down with our pre-made slices, nodding to my pizza.
I shrugged. “I can eat this,” I explained, taking a bite of ooey-gooey cheesy perfection.
“You can?”
I chewed and swallowed. “Yeah. It’s sort of a diet I made up. I call it the half-ass diet.”
Jeremy nearly spit his Coke. “What?”
“Um. Half-ass.” I bit my lip, feeling self-conscious about my made-up diet.
“How is it ‘half-ass’?” He took a bite of his own slice.
“I’ve been on it since June, and I’ve only lost seven pounds.”
“Better than gaining weight,” he offered.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. But it’s slow-going. Mostly because I do things like eat ice cream and donuts when I feel like it. Oh, and pizza.” I lifted my slice and took another big bite.
“I’m sorry if bringing you here ruined your diet,” Jeremy said, watching me with obvious pleasure.
“Nah,” I replied. “Like I said, it was half-ass to begin with.”
He laughed at that. “They sell ice cream here too,” he offered.
“No way. I had enough of that the other night. Way too much, in fact. But I had a good excuse.” Damn it. Why couldn’t I stop talking about my dumb problems with Harrison? I wiped my mouth with a napkin, hoping I didn’t have an errant blob of tomato sauce on my cheek.
“Consolation ice cream, huh?” Jeremy took a bite of his pizza.
I gave him a skeptical look. “Don’t tell me you eat consolation ice cream?”
“No. Guys tend to do more of the consolation beer thing.”
“Then how do you know about break-up ice cream?”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “My sister.”
“Oh, yeah. She was a year younger than me, right?”
“Yep, and when she and Christopher broke up in college, God, the ice cream she ate that summer.”
“Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
Jeremy took a swig of Coke and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “So, I’ll ask you again, why haven’t you dumped the history professor?”
I rubbed the back of my hand over my eyes. “Do you really want to hear the story?”
“Of course. I need to make sure my competition doesn’t come crawling back to knock me out of my Mr. Darcy status and rob me of my new job.”
I swallowed. That was far too close for comfort to what I’d been thinking. Far too close to what I’d been hoping, actually.
“I don’t think that’ll happen,” I said, hating how mopey my voice sounded.
“What makes you so sure?” He took another bite of his pizza.
I wiped my greasy hands on a white paper napkin. “Because he’s going to the competition with Lacey Lewis instead.”
Jeremy’s face scrunched into a frown, then his eyes widened. “Lacey Lewis? The actress? Holy crap, are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.” I chomped on the pizza crust.
“One of the guys at work said she was in town. Studying for a role. Oh!”
“Yep. It’s true.” I popped the last bit of crust into my mouth. “Harrison’s her tutor.”
“Damn.” He blew air into his cheeks. “That sucks.”
“Doesn’t it?” I gave him the best fake smile I could muster.
“I’m sorry, Meg,” he said, somberly.
The empathetic look on his face and the sincerity in his voice made tears sting my eyes, for some reason. I shook my head, needing to restore the funny, friendly vibe from earlier.
“But I still don’t get why you didn’t dump him,” he continued. “He sounds like a dick.”
I bit my lip and sighed. “It’s not his fault. Our