Elevator Pitch (Hapless In Love #1)

39. DateDelete

39

date or delete

Seylah

Brooklyn, NY | January 19, 2024

I scream internally the entire Uber ride. By the time I arrive I don’t even remember the name of the man I’m supposed to meet. I pull up his profile to jog my memory before entering the restaurant. His name is Aaron. I’m greeted by the hostess and share the name on the reservation. She smiles brightly and leads me to the table where my date awaits.

He looks nothing like his profile photo. He’s not unattractive, but he surely isn’t the man in the pictures. Which makes me very uneasy.

Strike One .

I’m tempted to go back the way I came until he spots me. His brows raise and he flashes a smile.

“Sup,” he says, greeting me with a fist bump before I seat myself. I do not hide how unimpressed I am as I take my seat. I observe his eyes track the hostess’ ass as she pads toward the front of the house. He reeks of vodka and I assume he hit the bar first. Seriously, he smells like he washed his ass with rubbing alcohol. I hold my breath and try not to vomit at the table. My stomach turns instantly. Strike two .

He can’t pronounce my name, nor does he try to. Sea-luhh is as good as it gets, I guess. He barely speaks, so I carry the conversation for a bit before I use my dinner as an excuse to be quiet. Thankfully, the food is amazing, so it’s a distraction. He starts giving his undivided attention to his phone, grinning and chuckling while clutching onto it.

He chews with his mouth open, and the sound is both infuriating and disgusting. He eventually remembers I’m present and starts asking me questions about myself.

“So, what do you do?” he asks with a mouthful of ribs, barbecue sauce on his face.

He looks like a child. Smacking his lips, talking with his mouth full, and wearing his meal. The third strike is impending, and a part of me is curious how he’ll earn it.

“I’ll wait until you’re done chewing,” I say with a polite smile.

His expression shifts to annoyance. I don’t give a fuck.

If he thinks he can be ruder than me, he’s sorely mistaken.

He eventually sets his phone on the table to get wipes for his hands. I excuse myself to the restroom and take a glance as I pass by. It’s open to the SoulBlend app . He’s literally talking to a match right now, but I choose silence over violence. Instead, I fire off a text to the group chat, asking one of them to call me with an emergency in the next ten minutes. They send thumbs up reactions and I return to my seat.

He’s still engrossed in that phone and I take a few more bites of my food as I wait for the ‘emergency call.’ Another hell date for the books.

I won’t say that Greyson is in my head, though I can’t help but think about his first date and how unique it was. It was easy and natural, giving me just enough of himself to pique my interest. He set a goal to captivate me before even seeing my face.

Should I have gone out with him instead?

I could have if I weren’t avoiding him and keeping things short since our last encounter .

Our last attempt at a ‘date’ ended with him dining between my legs. His fingers and tongue explored me. He praised me in ways I never knew I craved. I recall how good he looked on his knees for me, committing me to memory. It was a fleeting moment, a fantasy, a wish come true. Like it never happened, but it did .

It could happen again if you’d give him your answer.

Aaron pulls me from my thoughts, asking me if I’m alright. I assure him that everything’s fine and reengage with him, tossing thoughts of my hot neighbor aside. That is until I notice a man with a familiar build step through the doors of the restaurant. It’s Greyson, in the flesh, as if I conjured him with my mind. He walks up to the hostess and says something before his eyes search the room. My heartbeat thumps in my ears and my pulse quickens.

He couldn’t be here for me.

If this is how I react at the sight of him, then I’m out with the wrong guy.

We’ll unpack that later.

When our eyes meet, a wide smile stretches across his face. He places his hand over his chest with a sigh of relief. He pulls out his phone and starts typing. I then feel my phone buzz in my clutch. He continues typing and I retrieve it. I glance down and see three texts from Greyson.

Smell Good Man

Do you need saving?

Tuck your hair behind your ear if Yes.

Rub the back of your neck if No.

I ponder on this before deciding to tuck a lock of my hair behind my right ear. I glance up at him and he smiles.

Smell Good Man

Let me grab my cape and I’ll be right there.

I stifle a laugh.

This man.

He walks over and everything surrounding us is a blur. He moves with such grace, and his scent envelops me when he approaches.

God.

Why does he smell so fucking good?

How is he planning to get me out of this?

He stops once he reaches our table. He looks me up and down before saying, “Fancy seeing you here. And who might this be?” He glares at Aaron.

Who takes a moment to acknowledge him, when he does, his eyes bounce between Greyson and I.

“Do you always go out with married women?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re on a date with my wife. There’s nothing more to say. Come along, babe.”

He motions for me to follow him before turning on his heel, going still as he waits for me.

“Wife? You’re married?”

I wince and respond, thinking quick on my feet.

“Separated, actually. It’s a long story. If you’ll excuse me.”

I rise from the table, trailing behind Greyson and pretending to argue.

Once we’re out of earshot, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Grabbing dinner. You know I’m always up for a bite,” he adds playfully.

“That’s not what I meant by saving me. What the hell was that?”

“I read it in one of your books and thought you’d appreciate it.”

I cover my laughter with my hand.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Hey, I made you smile and that’s all that matters to me. ”

I roll my eyes, but I know it does nothing to hide his effect on me.

“Are you coming home with me, wife ? Or do you want to stay?”

I try to ignore the somersaults in my stomach from him calling me wife.

We take a moment to look back at my date, who is seemingly agitated as he glares at us. “The damage seems irreparable.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you’d like, as long as you ask nicely.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from flirting while my date is twenty feet away. Though he’s done it in front of me all night.

I look down, taking a deep breath, dreading this awkward interaction. I think of Audrey’s ferocity and channel a sliver of it to push through this.

“Give me a second to grab my coat and let him down easy.”

I pat his shoulder and turn around when he grabs my arm, holding me in place.

He whispers in my ear, “don’t apologize,” and plants a soft kiss on my cheek.

That’s exactly what I planned to do.

How did he know that?

When he releases me, I saunter back towards our table. When Aaron sees me, he stands. I start, trying not to apologize. “Listen. This has been an odd night. I will take care of the bill. You’re a nice guy, but my husband over there–”

He interrupts, “Look. I don’t want anything to do with this. I’m not interested in a threesome or being a third. So, if you all are into that shit, I’m not judging but that’s not me. I’m getting the fuck out of here.” He points a thumb towards the door.

I nod understandably. I’d rather him think that because I had no idea what I was going to say. “I didn’t mean for him to crash our date. He’s not handling our separation well.”

“I can’t believe this shit. ”

He stands up and slips on his coat, grumbling to himself the whole way out of the restaurant. He breezes past Greyson and exits. He must’ve picked up his dinner order in the meantime because he’s now holding two bags. I gather my things and when I approach him, he informs me he already took care of the bill. He refuses to let me put my coat on myself, even though his hands are full.

Such a gentleman.

He sets his food bags on an unoccupied table, standing behind me as I slip one arm into each side of the coat. He follows me out of the restaurant with his food, holding the door as I step outside. We walk side-by-side in comfortable silence until we reach his SUV. He stands beside the car, grabbing his keys, and he stills as if he forgot something.

He turns to me. “Did you take an Uber or drive?”

“I Ubered in case I drank.”

“Well, now that I’m here, you won’t need one to get home.”

“That’s not necessary,” I protest.

“Don’t argue with me on this, Selah. It’s not safe. I don’t want you riding with a stranger when I’m right here. Please, let me take you home. We’re going to the same place. Please?” he asks with pleading eyes.

He’s done enough for me tonight, and it’s just a ride home. He’s being neighborly. That’s all.

“Okay, big boy. Take me home.”