30 First Dates (4 page)

"Hey, Miss Crawford, uh, can you come here a second?"

She turned from the board and saw Manny Escovar, a
B
student who'd been slipping into the
Cs
, staring down at the open notebook on his desk with a perplexed look on his face. She walked over and helped him pinpoint the spot where the equation in his homework had gone wrong. She glanced down the page and saw he hadn't even attempted the rest of the assignment.

The rigors of teaching trig to a roomful of largely apathetic sixteen-year-olds combined with the absurdity of what had just happened improved her perspective, and she faced the next hour with a clearer head.

*  *  *

Later that evening, she slid onto a scratched wood stool at another Uptown bar with Sherri, Ben, and a woman named Lesley, a co-worker of Sherri's. Lesley's straight blonde hair was poufy at the crown and streaked with multicolored highlights. Her tan was sprayed on, her green V-neck top was a little too tight, and her cleavage was deep and man-made. Erin described the
Bachelorette
incident and they all laughed, herself included.

"I'd like to be the Bachelorette," Sherri said, a dreamy look on her face.

Erin grinned. "I don't think the cleaners come on Mondays. I can pull the ad out of the trash for you."

Sherri gave her a sour look. "Yeah, I'm sure they'd pick me, with these thighs."

Erin reached across the table and poked her shoulder. "OMG, would you give it up already? You're skinny as a rail."

"Yeah, right." She sighed. "It doesn't matter anyway. I couldn't even act in the third-grade play. Total basket case. I ran off the stage and embarrassed my mom half to death. She made my costume. I was an oak tree." Sherri paused, no doubt picturing her eight-year-old self clad in brown and green hand-sewn felt. She sighed and poked Erin back. "You should apply though. You're not shy at all."

"Yeah, Erin. You should apply." Ben's eyes were mocking, and she gave him a dirty look.

"No," she said, laughing. "Never in a million years would I even consider it."

She studied the pock-marked table and tried to keep her face from giving anything away, but she felt Ben's eyes reading through her. Sure enough, twenty minutes later, after Sherri left to take Lesley home—they carpooled so they could use the HOV lane on the LBJ Expressway—he called her on it.

"So you're really going to apply for
The Bachelorette
, aren't you? I know you. It's written all over your face."

She scrunched up her bar napkin and tossed it at him. "No, I am not going to apply for
The Bachelorette
. I meant what I said—never in a million years."

He raised his eyebrows.

"It's really unfair how you do this to me." She stared at him for a few seconds and he stared back.

"You are."

"No! I am not applying to
The Bachelorette
." She paused, not sure she was willing to let him in on the idea she'd only halfway formed. She wasn't aware until that moment that she'd already resolved to do it.

She let out a long sigh.

"I've been
thinking
about
The Bachelorette
, but not about applying. And I've been thinking about what you said about my list."

He looked surprised. "What
I
said?"

"You know, that thing you said about me wanting to get married before I turned thirty."

His eyebrows shot up again, but he didn't say anything. Erin looked down and traced the grains of the tabletop over and over with her pinky finger as she told him about Saturday night, about deciding she was going to take her list seriously. She told him about writing in her journal and watching the show afterward and wishing relationships could really be that easy.

"But they're not. And I seem to have a particular talent for attracting jerks. I only date men who are wrapped up in themselves or who are still in love with their exes or who lie or cheat or say absolutely anything to get me into bed…or men who sleep with my best friend. That's me." She looked up and pointed to herself with both thumbs. "Erin Crawford, douche magnet."

She paused to let that sink in as Ben nodded and then said, "Classy."

Erin rolled her eyes. "So then I was thinking more about
The Bachelorette
. About how it's all such a crock and how, with maybe a few exceptions, there isn't really a happily ever after. It's just for show, right? For entertainment value, good TV and all that. And then when the girls brought me that casting call today, it was, like, weird, you know? Like why did this keep coming up? It got me thinking."

Ben hooted. "Thinking, huh? Uh-oh. Everybody watch out. Erin Crawford's got a plan."

She threw her napkin at him, sending a spray of greasy crumbs from their fried jalapeño appetizer across the table.

"I wrote in my journal last night. I have to do it every day now—it's number 11. Anyway, last night I was trying to come up with ideas for my blog."

"You have a blog?"

"Duh. No. That's why I was writing down ideas."

He threw the napkin back at her.

"The blog is number 30. Anyway, so today, after Fiona gave me that paper about
The Bachelorette
, I had this brainstorm. I would never, ever"—Ben eyed her skeptically—"
ever
apply to be on the show, but why can't I stage my own version of
The Bachelorette
?"

He looked confused.

"On my blog," she clarified. "I could be the online bachelorette."

The cloud left his eyes, and he smirked.

"I think those already exist. I see the pop-up ads every time I get online."

Erin glared at him. "Yeah, well, you should stop looking at so much porn." She was annoyed, but not at him. For some reason, it was really important to her that Ben approve of her plan. He was always so level-headed—if he thought it was a dumb idea, it probably was.

"I think the title
'The Bachelorette'
is probably licensed," he said, and she let her breath out in a gush. At least he was taking her seriously.

"Well, I don't have to call the blog
The Bachelorette
," she said. "I could still call it 30 by 30 or something like that. But instead of thirty goals, it'll be about thirty dates—my quest to find a non-jerk in thirty dates or less. Personally I don't think it's possible."

He gazed at her without saying anything for several long seconds, and she squirmed in her chair.
I shouldn't have told him.
She wished she could read his mind, because whatever thoughts were distilling in that analytical brain of his probably wouldn't match what was about to come out of his mouth.

"So how exactly are you going to screen these thirty dates?" he said.

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, her brow furrowing. "Screen them? Scrounge them up is more like it. I hardly think men are gonna beat down my door to get on my blog." She paused. "So you don't think it's a dumb idea?"

His eyes narrowed a little as he studied her. "No, I've read dumber blogs than this."

"Well, that's a backhanded compliment."

"No, Erin, I don't think it's dumb. I just think you should be careful with it, that's all. That's a lot of strange men you're talking about."

"The strange ones will probably be more interesting to write about." She shot him a crooked smile. "Although I do hope to find at least one who's not a total spaz. My bachelor, you know?"

He grimaced. "Yeah, well, find me a girl like that while you're at it."

She smiled again.

"That's number 23."

Fight or Flight

It was five days later when Erin finally answered one of Hilary's endless stream of calls.

"Yes?"

There was a long pause. "You mean you're actually going to talk to me?"

"I answered, didn't I?"

Her words came out in a rush. "I'm really so sorry, Erin. I had no idea you cared anything about Jeffrey. You hardly ever talked about him, even."

Erin snorted. "What did it matter how much I talked about him? I was going out with him, wasn't I? I'd been going out with him for three months. Why on earth you seem to think it was okay for you to—" She paused. "You know what? I don't want to argue about this right now. We need to talk, face to face."

"I completely agree. Are you at home?"

Erin was, but she didn't want Hilary to come to her apartment. She wasn't ready for that yet.

"I'll come to your place."

"Okay. Or you could meet me at Patsy's and we could go for coffee after."

Erin groaned inwardly, knowing Hilary would only call her from the swank Highland Park bridal boutique if she wanted help with something—an opinion on some wedding decision.
Of course she has an ulterior motive.

That wouldn't make what she had to tell her any easier.

*  *  *

Hilary dabbed at her eyes. "Isn't there anything I can say to change your mind?"

Erin straightened her spine. "No, I don't think there is. You owe it to him to tell him what happened. He's going to find out anyway, you know he is. You'll tell him the next time he pisses you off—like you did with Aiden."

She pouted. "This is blackmail."

"No it's not. If I were blackmailing you, there'd be something in it for me. Besides, you know he's going to forgive you."
Even though he shouldn't.

Hilary looked up then.

"Does this mean you forgive me?"

Erin shook her head, regretting the answer before it even came out of her mouth.

"I forgive you, but I'll never be able to forget this one, Hil."

Hilary jumped up and threw her arms around Erin. "Oh, thank God. It's been driving me crazy to not be able to talk to you. And to show you the dress I found! Ohmigosh, it's gorgeous. It's winter white and it has this champagne lace overlay just on the bodice. It's strapless, but it has matching elbow-length gloves and I'm thinking we could do the bridesmaids' dresses in the same color champagne. It'll look so awesome with your hair."

Her words started blurring together in Erin's mind.
Unbelievable
, she thought.
She's unbelievable.
Hilary had the paradoxical blamelessness of a five-year-old child—a guilt so open, so guileless you couldn't stop yourself from letting her back in, even when she'd screwed you over.

She let her go on, thinking
sure, she can talk, but it'll be a long time before I'm telling HER anything.
She smiled inwardly, knowing Hilary would be appalled if she knew the extent of what Erin was keeping from her.

It wasn't much, but it was its own form of revenge.

*  *  *

"I think you should use the blue background."

Erin bit her lip and clicked the back button to study the blue template. Its header was cartoonish, with bold black letters, and the border wasn't just blue—it was electric blue with Pollock-like splashes of black, yellow, and bright pink. She hated it.

"What did you think of this black and white one?" She pulled up a page with a flowery, line drawn border. "This is perfect, I think."

"Yeah, I like that one," Sherri agreed.

From the minute Erin had told Sherri about her blog idea, she'd been fired up and ready to help. For the past hour they'd been surfing the web on Erin's MacBook to find the perfect blog template. Now that she'd decided to do this, she wanted to get it done—her general approach to life. She downloaded the template and began following the instructions to install it.

"I bet you could get Mark to design the top thingy," Sherri said.

"You mean the masthead?"

Sherri gave Erin a funny look.

"I was on the newspaper staff in high school," Erin said in an offhand tone as she stared intently at the screen. "I don't really want to ask Mark for anything right now. Besides, he designs buildings, not logos."

"How are things with Hilary and Mark, anyway?"

Erin rolled her eyes. "Same as always, I guess. The wedding's still on. Hilary's been driving me absolutely crazy with her search for the most perfect dress in the Metroplex."

"You're too nice to her." Sherri paused and scratched her arm. She looked down at herself and frowned. "Speaking of dresses, I'm going to look stupid in mine tonight. I'm covered in mosquito bites from that match Thursday night."

Sherri had a date tonight with TJ—a guy she'd met at the gym she'd joined to meet guys. TJ played in a men's soccer league that had games twice a week in the spring, before the Texas heat became too oppressive. She'd only been out with him two or three times, but already she'd installed herself at the sidelines of every game, and NBC Sports Network had become the background noise in the apartment. Sherri had a habit of adopting the hobbies of whatever guy she was going out with.

Erin smiled indulgently at her friend and peered at her, squinting to make out the faint pink spot on her tanned arm.

"Trust me, they're not noticeable."

Sherri shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking anxious. "Are you sure? Maybe I should buy a long-sleeved dress for tonight. Or wear pants." She looked at her watch. "I have time to pop over to the Galleria if you want to come."

Erin shuddered. Shopping was something she viewed as a necessary evil, and even a quick trip to the three-story retail monstrosity wasn't on her list of ideal ways to spend an afternoon.

"I would, Hon, even though you know how much it pains me." She glanced back down at her computer screen. "But I really want to get this blog set up before I have to start grading that gigantic pile of tests over there." She nodded in the direction of the coffee table.

Sherri glanced at the stack of color-coded folders and shot Erin a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry you have to work on a Saturday night. I bet TJ has a friend I could hook you up with. There are some other cute guys on the team."

Erin shook her head firmly. "Save the setups for when I get the blog going. Soon I'm going to need all the help I can get." She grimaced. "For now I just want to enjoy my solitude. I'm already starting to rethink this brilliant idea of mine."