My Favorite Hal-Night Stand - Christina Lauren Page 0,60

I would have the same level of chemistry in person, even if our conversations feel infinitely deeper.

And then there’s Daisy. Sweet, beautiful . . . and right here.

I reach to shake her hand but she embraces me instead, pulling me in for a tight hug. Her breath is warm on my neck, her blond hair tickling across my cheek. “I’ve been so nervous!”

“Absolutely no need to be nervous,” I say, stepping back.

“I know.” She pulls out her chair. “I guess I’m just so glad you were telling the truth and you’re not, like, eighty and enormous.”

This bounces around inside my cranium. I can only say, “No . . .”

The waiter approaches, and Daisy orders a rosé, I order a scotch, neat, and my stomach slowly climbs into my throat while I wait for all my opening questions to come back into my head. But all I can hear is the mental peanut gallery of Ed protesting Daisy’s fat phobia and Alex reminding Ed that Daisy has nice stems, and Chris ignoring all of it. Mental Millie is gone; she must have disappeared as soon as I registered my own relief that Daisy was indeed beautiful.

We start speaking at the same time: “I hope traffic wasn’t too bad,” I say, just when Daisy says, “I heard this place is so good.”

And then we do it again. “It is really good,” I say, just as she says, “No, it was fine.”

“Oh,” she says, “go ahead.”

I clear my throat awkwardly. “No, no, I was just saying that they do have good food here.”

She nods, smiling around at the maritime décor. “Cool.” Daisy unrolls her napkin and puts it in her lap. “I used to have a beach theme in my bedroom, like shells and stuff.”

“Oh?” I take an enormous gulp of water, cooling down the path from tongue to stomach as it begins to dawn on me that Daisy and I have zero chemistry whatsoever.

“Like, when I was a kid. Some fish nets, shells—I already said that, oh my God—and, like, everything was painted blue. Blue walls, blue bed.” She pauses, looking at me like it’s my turn to speak. I have no idea what to say. Finally, she adds, “Blue dresser. I wanted to be a mermaid.”

“Oh.” I nod, smiling as I struggle to shush the part of my brain that wants to point out that a mermaid probably wouldn’t surround herself with nets. Or a dresser. I mean, if mermaids were real. I clear my throat. “I bet that was . . . fun. I had the same boring red comforter from when I was seven until . . . well, it’s still in our guest room at home.” I try to ease the tension with a joke. “Maybe I wanted to be a fireman.”

Okay, that didn’t work.

Silence stretches a mile in every direction. Mental Millie returns, lifting up her cocktail for a sardonic toast and letting out a long, throaty laugh. She says saucily, Oh, I’m familiar with that comforter.

“So.” I desperately tread water. “You’re a student at UCSB?”

“Early childhood education,” she tells me, and then thanks the waitress when our drinks are delivered. “I’m almost finished and will work at the Bellridge Preschool Academy starting in the fall.”

I have questions about a “preschool academy” but let them go for now. I mean, at least she seems focused, directed. “You’ve already got a job lined up?”

Daisy nods. “I know the owner, she’s really great. Tons of hot dads there, too,” she says, and then laughs.

“Oh . . . that’s . . .” I lift my scotch, take a slow sip. “That’s good.”

Daisy chugs a few gulps of her wine. “I don’t know why I said that.” She throws her hands in the air. “I’m on a date with you, talking about hot dads.”

I wave a hand. “We’ve all done it.”

Daisy laughs again and shakes her arms out. “I haven’t been on a first date in a while.”

“That’s okay—”

“I didn’t mention this before, but I broke up with my ex, Brandon, about six weeks ago, and I swear he’s probably dating every girl he meets, but I was never like that. I think that was part of what drove him crazy, that he thought I was really social—because we met at a party?—but really I just don’t like big crowds, or whatever, and he always wanted to go out and rage. I’m so over that, it feels so undergrad, you know what I mean? We were together for four years though,