Chapter 6: : Chapter 6

Hallie pushed the door and exited Starbucks, glad she’d decided to show up a little early. She felt ridiculously nervous about talking to so many people, all in a row, and she needed a big old cup of caffeine to soothe her nerves.

Surely that couldn’t backfire, right?

She was meeting Jack outside the coffee shop at 7:40 p.m., and then they were going to walk two blocks down to the bar where the speed dating event was occurring. But before she could give the night another fleeting thought, there he was.

He walked down the sidewalk with long strides, and she realized as she watched him approach that he was even more attractive than she’d remembered.

He was tall, dark-haired, and handsome; she’d remembered that. But there was something about his face that screamed mischief. His eyes positively crackled as he looked around the entrance, presumably for her, and then they crinkled at the corners when he saw her and smiled.

Hot damn—it was ridiculous how gorgeous he was.

Wrong, actually. Positively unfair to the rest of the human race.

Thank God he was just her partner in crime, because he had the kind of face that left piles of broken hearts and the occasional bra behind.

“Wow. You look incredible, Tiny Bartender.” His eyes dipped down to her fuzzy black sweater and jeans, and she didn’t feel like he was checking her out but rather genuinely just saying she looked good that night.

Hallie rolled her eyes and said, “You only think I’m hot because we bonked.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a thing?”

She shrugged and wondered what kind of workout made a chest that broad. A lot of guys had pecs, but he looked like a professional athlete in his black V-neck sweater with the oxford underneath. Like he’d just showered and was ready for a post-game presser.

She got distracted for the briefest of seconds by his prominent Adam’s apple and a flashback from the hotel of her tongue on his neck.

“I think it’s a cavemannish, biological thing,” Hallie said, taking a sip of her coffee and righting her mind. “Your brain knows you copulated with a particular female, so now your ego ensures that you see said female as attractive.”

That made his dimples pop. “Is this what you tell yourself so you feel better about finding me wickedly attractive? That you only think I’m hot because we bonked?”

“First of all, I find you painfully unattractive. It hurts my eyes to look at you, if I’m being honest.”

“Ouch,” he said, putting his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“Yeah, suuuuper disgusting.”

“I get that a lot.”

“I’m not surprised. Second of all, it’s very unappealing for a man to say ‘bonk.’ Very ungentlemanlike. Let the ladies use their power words, and you stick to being charming.”

“I’ll do better. Shall we walk?”

Hallie nodded and they started their way down the street. She caught a whiff of cologne—or soap or something manly—and she was trying to identify the scent when he interrupted her thoughts.

“So. Have you practiced your lines?”

“What lines?”

“Your speed dating lines.” He nudged her arm with his elbow and said, “You’re going to get a lot of questions thrown at you fast, so you have to be ready.”

“Crap, I totally didn’t study. Let’s practice.”

He cleared his throat, changed his voice, and said, “So, Hallie. What do you do for fun?”

Hallie looked at his face and drew a blank. “I, um, I read a lot . . . ?”

He scrunched up his nose. “Said the most boring girl in history. Try again.”

“I watch TV,” she tried again, and realized that she absolutely was the most boring girl. “I like to run, and nothing thrills me quite like a New Girl marathon.”

“Come on, TB—strive for interesting. At least throw on an accent. That makes anything sound exciting.”

“Okay.” Hallie racked her brain before saying in a deplorable Southern accent, “I sew tiny articles of clothing for baby chipmunks, y’all.”

“Do you actually do that?”

“Of course not, y’all.”

“People from the South don’t say ‘y’all’ in every sentence.”

“You sure, y’all?”

“You must stop that at once.”

“Fine.” She cleared her throat before whispering, Y’all.

“On a side note, even if you did sew tiny chipmunk attire, it’s only interesting if it involves short-shorts.”

“On me or the chipmunks?”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously the chipmunks.”

“Obviously.”

He said, “Okay, well, let’s hope you don’t get asked that question. How about this—what do you do for a living?”

They reached the corner and stopped, waiting for the light to change. She said, “I am a tax accountant. What about you?”

“Amateur taxidermist.”

Hallie turned and looked up at him. Something about the teasing glint in his eye made her think of Chris Evans; they both had that “I would prank you so hard” vibe. She attempted a British accent and replied, “That sounds bloody fascinating. How long have you been doing that?”

“Since they told me being an amateur mortician is a felony.”

“Well, that is certainly alarming, you frigging bloke, but—”

“No.” Jack put his large hand over her mouth, leaned a little closer, and said, “No more accents.”

Hallie just blinked up at him.

“Okay?” he asked, not removing his hand as he smiled wickedly, like a dark-haired, blue-eyed villain.

She nodded, and he dropped his palm from her face and said, “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be so bad at accents. I look at the world differently now that I’ve heard those voices.”

“I do a stellar Irish lilt, so your loss by cutting me off.”

“I’m comfortable with that.”

When they finally reached the bar, Hallie’s nerves returned. She reached up and straightened her hair as he grabbed the door and pulled it open. He gave her a relaxed, confident smile as he held the door for her and said, “You ready to date at a ridiculously high rate of speed, Piper?”

“I guess,” she said, her stomach dipping as the noise of the bar suddenly engulfed her. “But don’t ditch me if you connect with someone, okay?”

His eyes narrowed and his smile softened into something she couldn’t put her finger on. He said, “Okay.”

They were barely inside the bar when a woman with a microphone started going over the event. She explained it was “typical” speed dating, which meant five minutes per date with a bell notifying participants of when it was time to advance to the next person. Everyone was given a tiny notepad (with the words Love Happens on the front—gag) and pencil so they could jot down the names of dates they connected with so they could communicate with them after the event.

“The ladies will be seated at the tables over there,” the woman said, pointing toward the side of the room where tables were lined up side by side, “and our gentlemen will rotate.”

“Why?” Hallie asked, not really meaning to interrupt. “I read an article last night in which researchers discovered that whichever gender is seated at these events tends to be pickier about their selections, whereas the person approaching is more accepting.”

The woman’s smile stayed pinned on her mouth, but her eyes lost their perk. “Well, wouldn’t that work in your favor, as someone who will be seated?”

Hallie rolled her eyes. “Respectfully, it seems incredibly sexist to have women lined up to receive suitors, don’t you think? Aren’t we more evolved than that?”

She heard Jack snort, and it was then that she realized she should have kept her big mouth shut.

Jack couldn’t hold in his grin as the participants all looked at Hallie as if she were suggesting they play the game naked or something. They probably thought she was a militant feminist, but he kind of wanted to hear more about the study.

Also, she wasn’t wrong.

“I see what you’re saying,” the lady said, “but this is just the way speed dating is usually done. I can take your ideas back to—”

Jack raised his hand and said, “The odd woman makes a good point. I’d like to sit. Maybe we should randomly draw numbers to decide who sits and who rotates, just to keep it ‘modern.’ ”

He didn’t really give a damn who sat and who stood, but he also didn’t want Hallie to be ostracized for having an intelligent, independent thought.

“Um,” the organizer said, sounding exasperated as she looked around the bar, “I guess we can try something new.”

“Very progressive of you,” Jack said, and the organizer grinned at him like he’d just given her a bouquet of long-stemmed roses.

“Yeah, thank you,” Hallie said, which made the organizer’s smile falter. The woman looked at her as if she wished an anvil would fall from the sky and crush her.

“But how will we match up guys and girls when the bell rings?” The woman was beginning to slowly lose her shit. Her eyes shifted around the room and she said, “It won’t work.”

A blonde said, “We can assign a number to each participant, and when the bell rings, each person moves on to the next number up from theirs.”

“No, this is too confusing and we’re scheduled to start in two minutes,” the organizer said, raising the microphone to her mouth and almost shouting at this point. “We’re sticking with our original plan. I’m sorry.”

Hallie looked at Jack and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“Thank you for trying,” she muttered.

“Fuck that,” he whispered. “Now I have to stand the whole time.”

That made her start laughing.

Which made the organizer glare even harder and say, “Maybe we can make the number thing work. Take five, everyone.”

Hallie threw a closed-mouth smile at the girl to her left, who just rolled her eyes like Hallie was a moron, and she said “Hi” to the girl on her right, who gave her a very terse “Hello.”

“This is going swimmingly,” Jack heard her say to herself, under her breath.

Jack wondered if it was strange that he was having a great time just watching Hallie be Hallie. “You little troublemaker.”

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“No, this is funny shit right here,” he said. “And what you said makes sense. Why should the ladies get to sit and choose? I want to sit and have them come before me like the king I am.”

“That is not what I was requesting,” she said with a laugh, rolling her eyes.

God, she has a really great laugh.

“Okay, everyone,” the organizer yelled through the microphone, her voice tense. “We’re running behind, but I think we have it figured out.”

She quickly explained the numbering system and how it would work, then shouted out numbers that determined who would sit and who would stand.

In the end, Hallie was still sitting.

And so was Jack, who took the table right beside her. He watched as she stuck her purse under the small table, pushed back her hair, and straightened her posture. She looked nervous as she took a deep breath, and he had no idea why he felt like squeezing her hand in reassurance.

“I dare you to use an accent,” Jack said out of the corner of his mouth.

“You’re not getting the baseball, so knock it off.”

“We’ll see,” he said.

Before she was even ready, the bell rang. Hallie took a deep breath, and a guy sat down in the chair in front of her. He had a nice face and curly blond hair, and as she smiled and tried to think of something to say, he said, “Hi, I’m Blayne.”

“I’m Hallie.”

“Oh my God, I used to love The Parent Trap.”

She forced herself not to roll her eyes. “Same.”

“So what’s your thing, Hal?” The guy smiled and put his chin on his hand. “Tell me every little thing about Hallister McHalliegirl.”

“Nope.” She fake-laughed and tried thinking of an answer. “I’m a tax accountant, but you first. Tell me about Blayne.”

“I’m a financial planner who lives out in Westfield. I like camping and hiking, anything outdoorsy, and I’m super into yoga right now. Do you like yoga?”

She tilted her head and tried to picture Blayne doing yoga. She could totally see it. “I’ve really only tried it a couple times.”

That was apparently a green light for him to spend the entirety of their micro-date telling her the who/what/where/when of the yoga class he facilitated in a strip mall. He gave her the promo code to get a friends and family discount, and she realized as he expounded upon the benefits of yoga that this speed dating thing wasn’t actually a bad promotional idea.

She glanced to her right, and wow, Jack’s current date was stunning. She was smiling and talking, and he looked absolutely enthralled by her. Hallie wondered—feeling slightly panicked—if he’d already found his love connection.

The bell rang, and Hallie let out a breath. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved that the first one was over or terrified about the next one beginning.

“Your date looked awesome,” Jack said quietly, and when she looked over at him, he was giving her a half smile. “I bet he wears a man bun on the weekends.”

“Blayne was nice,” she whispered.

“Blayne?” Jack rolled his eyes. “I thought Duckie already covered what a stupid name that is.”

“Nice Pretty in Pink reference.” Hallie straightened as a man began to approach her table. She said out of the side of her mouth, “It looked like you were having a good date, by the way.”

“Yeah, no. That girl told me the reason why she’s here tonight is because she’s committed to the goal of getting married in the next year.”

“She sounds perfect, then,” she said, smiling at her next date and saying, “Hi, I’m Hallie.”

“Nope,” she heard Jack mutter before he started talking to his next candidate.

“I’m Thomas,” said her new guy. “So how’d your first date go?”

That made her smile and relax a little. “It was fine, how about yours?”

Thomas had nice hair and good teeth, and he was wearing a Dolce & Gabbana shirt; she wasn’t certain if that fashion choice worked as a pro or a con. She wasn’t sure how she’d expected him to respond, but he leaned a little closer, lowered his voice, and proceeded to rip some poor girl to shreds.

Apparently his first candidate had crooked teeth, split ends, strong perfume, and the audacity to talk about TV shows she liked to watch. He said, “If you don’t have anything better to share than your obsession with the You series on Netflix, maybe you should just stay home, right?”

Hallie squinted and waited for him to say kidding. Because no one could be that dickish, right?

When he didn’t, she said, “I’m actually obsessed with Joe Goldberg, too. I can’t believe you aren’t, Thomas.”

He laughed, but then he tilted his head. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not one bit. I wish I had more time to devote to TV watching. And more time to talk about it.”

He blinked fast, scratched his head, and then said, “Y’know what? I’m going to go get a drink before the bell rings.”

“Bye, Thomas.”

Aaaaand . . . she’d already lost one. Hallie watched him get up and go to the bar, and she wondered if she would be part of his bad speed dating stories. She crossed her arms and glanced to her right, and was surprised to see Jack looking right at her. His date was scrolling on her phone, just leaning on her elbow like she was bored, and Hallie raised her eyebrows and mouthed, “What did you do?”

He leaned to his left, closer to her, and quietly said, “We have an agreement. She doesn’t want to be here but is just trying to appease her married friend, so I told her we didn’t even have to talk if she didn’t want to.”

That made Hallie bark out a laugh. “Seriously?”

“What did you do, to make your guy bolt pre-bell?”

“Why would you assume I was the one who did something?”

“You can tell me, Hal,” he crooned in a soothing voice. “What did you say?”

She rolled her eyes. “He just didn’t like me.”

“Impossible,” he said, grinning sarcastically.

She flipped him off.

And then the bell rang.

She watched Jack’s date thank him, and they shared a smile of commiseration.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Hallie said quietly.

“Me, neither,” he agreed. “Should we bolt? There’s a Taco Hut on the corner, and I need a burrito.” He looked dead serious.

“Can we?” she asked. “Won’t that throw off the numbers?”

“Nah,” he said, turning his gaze to the woman sitting down across from him as he spoke to Hallie in a low voice. “There are two of us, so it’ll still be even. If these two aren’t love matches let’s go when the bell rings.”

Hallie met her next candidate while wearing a huge smile, eager to finish the date quickly and painlessly. “Hi, I’m Hallie.”

“Nick,” the guy said, giving her a very nice smile.

Nick looked good—as in, someone she might actually be interested in dating if appearances were all that mattered. He was wearing a Yankees hoodie and jeans, he had dark hair and light eyes, and his smile was easy, like he did it a lot.

“Nice to meet you, Nick,” she said. “How’s your night going so far?”

He gave her a look with his eyes, like come on, and they both laughed as she said, “Okay, I get that. So, um, what do you do for a living, Nick? I think that’s what I’m supposed to ask you.”

“That is the norm, isn’t it?” He leaned back a little in his chair and said, “Well, I don’t actually do the work thing at all.”

Hallie laughed, but he didn’t change his expression.

So she said, “You’re, um, like, in between jobs right now?”

He shook his head. “I’m in between no jobs. I grew up with money and invested it well. I’ve got enough to live on, so why would I want to work?”

“Wow,” she said, shocked and awed by his honesty. And wealth. “You’re literally living the dream.”

“Right?” He crossed his arms across his chest and said, “I just need a wife and a few kids now.”

Hallie nodded but didn’t really know what to say. She rubbed her lips together and came up with, “So what do you do all day, since you don’t have to work?”

She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t, “I play a lot of COD and Madden.”

She laughed, but then his eyebrows went down like he didn’t know what was funny. Like he’d meant it for real. She said, “When you’re not, like, traveling the world, right?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really like to travel. I’m a total homebody.”

She nodded, even though she absolutely didn’t relate. She knew she should move on, but she had to know more. “So tell me what you do on a normal day. Like . . . you wake up at nine, and then you . . . ?”

He went on to tell her that he never got up before noon; it was bad for his sciatica. After he was up, he pretty much just played video games all day until dinner. He usually went out to a restaurant, then hit the bars if they were “jumpin’.”

“Don’t you get a little bored?” Hallie rolled her eyes and said, “I mean, I’m sure you don’t, but it just seems—”

“I have a lot of money, Hallie,” he said. “If I get bored with my awesome life—which I won’t—I’ll just buy a new one.”

“A new life?”

“Sure,” he said, shrugging like he didn’t care about anything, and she found him to be utterly fascinating.

“What do you usually eat for breakfast?” she asked.

He gave her a weird look. “Apple Jacks.”

“Pour them yourself, or does the maid do it?”

“The cook,” he replied.

“In a crystal goblet, or normal bowl?”

“Normal bowl.”

The bell rang and the guy leisurely got up, like he was in no rush. Because, y’know, he wasn’t—he had all the time in the world. Fascinating. Hallie said, “It was very nice meeting you, Nick.”

He gave her a chin nod. “Same, Hallie.”

“You ready?”

Hallie turned to her right, and Jack was there, looking down at her with his eyebrows raised. “We have to go now, before—”

She grabbed his arm and started for the door. “Let’s get out of here.”