me.
“Don’t apologize,” he insists. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I can't even offer to make up for lost time, because my offer was pretty sleazy in the first place.”
“Unless it wasn’t meant to be,” I hear myself point out. See? I’ll always be that hopeful girl—the one who thinks that this time the boy wants me for more than just sex.
“I’m not willing to give myself the benefit of the doubt." He picks up his chopsticks again.
“Fine, but believe it or not, I'm over it. I went on to meet far sleazier men than you, who proceeded to do far worse damage than standing me up.”
My phone keeps pinging. “Better see who that is,” Rickie says. “Also, there's two guys over there watching us, and they look familiar.”
I reach for my phone while also glancing over to see who he means. And I spot my cousin Kieran and his boyfriend across the room, menus in hand. When I turn my head, they give me twin smirks.
I frown as a reflex. And of course the texts are from them.
Kieran: Who's your hot date?
Roddy: Nice muscles. And those tats! @Kieran, did you know Daphne had a bad boy kink?
I groan.
"Everything okay?" Rickie asks, frowning.
"Sure. It's just my cousin giving me a hard time." I pick up my drink and take a sip while subtly showing the guys my middle finger.
There's a burst of laughter from their table, and I can hear it all the way over here. Rickie glances in their direction and smirks. “Oh yeah. I remember them from your birthday party. Hey, guys.” He gives them a wave and a smile.
Is it weird that I'm relieved to see that cocky smile come back—the same one that I sometimes want to wipe right off his face?
“So,” I ask, hoping to change the subject. “What are you writing that paper about?"
“Subjectivity in Aristotle,” he says. “A hylomorphic analysis.”
“Huh. Well that sounds…”
"Boring?" he guesses.
"I was going for complicated."
Richie gives me a secretive smile. "Sure you were."
"No, really. From one nerd to another—you shine on. One of my goals in life is to always put at least one million-dollar word in the titles of all my papers."
His smile grows hotter. “I knew you were special.”
My phone beeps again. I send a suspicious glance toward Kieran. But he and Roddy are deep in conversation.
“Did you know your grandpa likes this restaurant?” Rickie asks.
“What?”
He nods to a table behind me. And when I swivel my neck around, there sits Grandpa. He’s eating the salmon fried rice with a fork, not chopsticks, and he’s seated across from that woman he was dancing with at my birthday party.
Grandpa waves with his fork and gives me a wink. Then he taps his phone on the table with one of his bony fingers.
“What the hell?” I gasp. I pick up my phone and look at the text.
Grandpa: You and the new roommate are dating? I see how it is.
I let out a little shriek of dismay. “Why can’t I just eat some fried rice without a peanut gallery?”
Rickie’s smile gets a little wider. “Your family is hilarious, Daphne. Just roll with it.”
I tap out a quick response. Gramps, I’m not on a date. Also it’s rude to text at the table.
Grandpa: Then why are you replying?
“The man makes a good point,” Rickie says.
“Don’t read my texts. And I hate you.” I power the phone all the way down.
“No, you don’t,” he says, and the cocky expression that I know so well is back. “Not that I deserve it, but you don’t hate me.”
Fine. Fine. So I ate out with Rickie and I liked it. And I hate that I know how good a kisser he is. There will be no more kissing.
And this wasn’t a date. Even though Rickie doesn’t let me pay my half of the check. “My idea, my bill,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say a little stiffly. “We’re still not dating.”
“I heard you the first time,” he says with an easy smile.
Only it turns out that I’m the only one in Vermont who’s not on a date tonight. As we’re leaving the restaurant, Rickie holds the door open for…
My mother. My mother is walking into the noodle shop in a dress, with a man I’ve never seen before.
“Oh!” She stops short in front of me. “Daphne, honey. Hello.”
“Mom,” I say curtly. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Gil,” she says, nodding a little too vigorously. “Gil, my daughter.”
The man smiles and shakes my hand nervously. He has a salt-and-pepper