The Two-Night One-Night Stand (17 page)

Storming into my bedroom, I give up on my tight jeans and swap them out for a pair of old yoga pants, the ones with a hole in the seam and the weird pink pattern at the waist. Hideous but oh-so-comfy. Perfect for the night I have planned sitting on the couch and binge watching
Cake Wars
. Only once my tush hits the couch, I find myself watching
Jeopardy!
instead.

My stomach growls, alerting me that it’s time for our daily greasy pizza fix. But tonight I will not be going there, not looking like this. And, also, hello, enough with the pizza. I rub my rounded belly. Geez. Would a salad kill me?

Sauntering into the kitchen, I hang on my fridge door and stare at the few items inside. Hmm, a questionable cucumber and a bottle of gross fat-free Ranch dressing that’s been in there for at least a year, possibly longer. Okay, so no salad. What else do I have? I have milk, I guess I could have cereal. There’s a full box of Shredded Wheat, but the Fruit Loops box is empty. Crap. Forget cereal. I slam the cabinet door shut and a menu breezes off the countertop, landing by my feet. Lucky Star.

Yes! Chinese food. Perfect. Sweet and sour chicken with pork fried rice. Besides, it’s December, no one eats healthy in December. That’s what January is for. I grab my phone and dial.

“Lucky Star, can you hold?”

“Yes.” I eye the menu while I wait. Boneless spare ribs. God, that sounds good too.

“Thank you for holding, pickup or delivery?”

“Delivery please.”

“Delivery takes one hour tonight. We’re busy with the holidays, you still want delivery?”

“Oh, uh, no I’ll pick it up. Can I get the number three combo, boneless spare rib appetizer, and a Diet Coke?” Diet Coke. That’ll save me.

“Name?”

“Holly.”

“Pickup in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you.”

I take the rubber band around my wrist and throw my hair up into the world’s most half-assed bun. It’s cold, but since I’m only going a few blocks over and don’t feel like bundling up, I opt for my neon-green LazerShark hoodie. The neon goes much better with the ripped pants and zits I’m rocking anyway. I grab my keys and head out so I can hit up the ATM on my way.

Twinkling lights on the streets and sappy Christmas music on the radio make my eyes fill with lonely tears. By the time I park in front of Lucky Star, I’m a blotchy, emotional mush. I take out a compact, ready to dab on some powder. It’s a lost cause. No dab of powder will save this mess. I snap it shut. This is a two-second run in and run out. Who cares what I look like?

Inside the restaurant, there’s a line at the take-out counter and the area in front of the hostess stand is crowded with people waiting to be seated. Everyone in town seems to be in the mood for Chinese food tonight. The place is jammed.

“Luciani!” the man behind the counter bellows, and a petite brunette with three small kids fights her way to the front.

“It’s about time. You said twenty minutes, I’ve been waiting here for forty,” she snaps, handing over her money and snatching the bag.

Forty frickin’ minutes? My shoulders drop. I should’ve just had it delivered. The delicious smell reaches my nose. And I should’ve ordered an egg roll. Dammit. I slink to the back corner, leaning on the wall behind the glass refrigerator filled with soda. At least here, I can stay hidden and play on my phone until my name is called.

Ten minutes later the place is packed with even more people. The windows are covered in moisture from all the bodies huddled in the front, waiting. I’m about to melt, plus I kinda have to pee. My legs jiggle and I wipe at the sweat forming above my brows. Slinking my way through the crowd, I break free to the narrow hallway off to the side where the restrooms are. It’s a relief to be out of the crowd and a bigger relief to find there is no long line to get into the ladies’ room. The door to the men’s room opens and a hulking man with thinning hair and a green sweater walks out. I step to the left to avoid him and he steps in the same direction.

“Whoops,” he says, and I smile, shifting right.

So does he.

“Sorry.” We both chuckle and again both step left.

“Okay, we need a plan here,” he says, and I look up with a smile. He squints, and an expression of recognition spreads across his face but I don’t know who he is.
Do I?

“How about I go this way?” I hitch my thumb to the right. “And you go that way.” I point left.

“Okay.” He takes an extra second, almost like he’s trying to place me, before walking away. I pull open the door to the ladies’ room and sneak a glance over my shoulder, but turn my head quick when I catch him doing the same thing.

Shit. Who is that guy?

I lock myself in the stall. That was weird. Do I know him? I don’t think so. Then why did it look like he knew me?

Once I’m done with my business, I’m forced to face my busted—should’ve definitely had them deliver the food—face in the mirror above the sink. Not only am I makeup free and broken out, but the lighting in this bathroom shows every errant hair, making me desperately wish I had a pair of tweezers on me. I look awful. Forget it, that man didn’t know me, he was probably just taken aback by my scary appearance.

I check the time on my phone. The food has to be ready by now.
Please
let it be ready now. All I want to do is get my food and get the hell out of here before I run into anyone I actually do know. I push the door open, ready to retreat back to my corner.

And there he fucking is.

Matthew.

MY BROTHER WAS right. It’s her.

Holly.

After three weeks of late night pizza runs begging for a chance encounter, I finally run into her at a restaurant that I’ve never been to before. Guess this place is called Lucky Star for a reason.

“What are you doing here?” she exclaims, panicked, her hands flying up to her…
chin
?

“I’m having dinner with my family. We’re celebrating my niece’s birthday. What are you doing here?”
Please don’t be on a date.

“I ordered takeout.” Her hands still hover over her chin and her face reads sheer panic. Her brown eyes stay fixed on the floor and her left leg launches into a nervous jig. One hand eases away from her face and tugs at her rubber band, sending her thick dark hair cascading over her shoulders. I swallow hard. It’s like watching a slow-motion ad for Carl’s Jr.

“God, you’re beautiful.” The words fly out of my mouth of their own accord. I can’t help it. She’s gorgeous.

Her nose crinkles, her brows knit together, and she swings her head toward the seating area as if she’s searching for something. “Does this place serve alcohol?”

“Do you think I’m drunk?” Why would she think that? Because I called her beautiful?

She dips her head down and tugs the zipper of her hoodie all the way up to her lips. When she lifts her head back up, the lower half of her face is covered. “No, it’s just—I look far from beautiful.” Her words are muffled through the cotton of her hiked-up sweatshirt.

This is normally where I say or do something stupid. Not tonight. No games. No regrets. I need to get it all out there.

“Holly, I’ve been waiting for almost a month for a chance to get to see you again, and now that you’re here and I have the opportunity, I’m not gonna let it slip away without saying what I want to. I think you’re great. Beautiful. Sexy. Fun. And I would love to see you again, to go on a date, a real one.” Her eyes widen. “You can say no if you want and I’ll understand.” I shake my head. “No, scratch that, I won’t understand and if you say no, I’m just going to keep asking until you do say yes. I think we’d be really good together.” I stare down, waiting for a reaction. Her mouth is still covered but I think she’s smiling. I breathe in deep and stay hopeful.

“I’ve been hoping to see you again too.” The sweatshirt lowers down just a tiny bit and I get to see her pretty plump lips. She is definitely smiling. “I hated the way I acted and all those things I said before leaving. I was nervous or scared or something and I freaked out. But I think we’d be good together too.”

“Is that a yes? You’ll go out with me?”

“Yes.” She pulls in her lower lip. “But are you sure it’s not weird because of the way we started?”

“Not at all.” A woman squeezes past us toward the ladies’ room and we move in closer. My fingers graze hers and she takes my hand. This is really happening. The way she sets off the erratic beat of my heart…. Dating her may cause me to need a beta blocker. Totally worth it. That’s what cardiologists and prescription plans are for.

“I’m just nervous. I don’t want you to look at me as some girl who goes home with every guy she meets. What happened with us was a one-time-only thing for me.” Her eyes shut and she groans out a sigh. “That happened twice.”

“I’d never look at you like that.” I pull her in even closer, brushing my lips against her forehead for a light kiss.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Come with me right now. We can go anywhere you want.”

“Right now?” She giggles, reaching her hands up to rest on my shoulders. “What about your family? Aren’t you here doing the birthday thing?”

That’s right. I can’t leave. “Come join us. We’ll add an extra seat to the table.”

“Join your family dinner? Are you crazy?” She gives me a playful push. “I can’t meet your family, we haven’t even gone on a date yet.”

“The two nights we spent together, I know you called them one-night stands, but if you think about it, they really weren’t. They were more like dates.”

“Dates?” she lifts a brow. “You want to call them dates?”

“Yes, dates, and since we’ve been
dating
since Halloween, I think it’s time you come meet my family.”

“I can’t. Look at me. I’m in a neon sweatshirt, ripped yoga pants, and I’m all broken out. Nuh-uh.” She shakes her head.

“You look perfect to me.” I grasp her hand and she reluctantly takes it. I urge her head up, freeing her chin from the neon cotton and bringing my lips down to meet hers for a quick kiss. When we break apart she points to her chin and frowns. I gaze down at her flawless face. “I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

She smiles big. “Yeah, I really like you, Matthew.”

I swoop back down for another kiss before taking her hand and leading her toward our oversized table of fourteen in the middle of the restaurant.

“Wait.” She pulls on my hand to stop us from walking any farther. “I can’t go over there. You said you told your mom about that night. She’ll know it was me.”

Damn my big, stupid, drunken mouth. “No, she won’t. My mother doesn’t know any details. She doesn’t know who you are.”

“Are you sure?” She holds her breath. “I think I’d die if she knew it was me.”

“She doesn’t.” Yes, my mother may have overheard me talking about that night, but I’ve never mentioned Holly to her. There’s no way she’d put two and two together. “You don’t need to worry.”

As we approach, my chatting family falls quiet, all eyes landing on Holly, almost as if she had been the topic of conversation. My stomach twitches with a bad feeling. Pat and Kent know who she is. Pat’s the one who saw her and told me she was here. But they wouldn’t have said anything to the others. Would they?

“This is Holly,” I say to a table of gaping family members. “Holly, this is my mom, dad, Pat, Ashley, Lola, Karli, Stacy, Nina, Ella, Eva, Kent, Robin, and the birthday girl, Michelle.”

“Is that your girlfriend?” Ella is the first one to speak. I’m not sure how to reply and before I say anything, Nina jumps in.

“Are you guys getting married?”

It’s awkward yet cute, and I glance over at Holly, who’s smiling.
Phew
.

“Can I be a flower girl?”

“Okay, guys, that’s enough.” From girlfriend, to love, to marriage in ten seconds is a bit much and I need to simmer them down. “Holly and I are
dating
,” I say, and give Holly a quick wink that makes her blush.

“Oh?” Stacy scrunches her little face. “’Cause I heard Grandma say she was a one-night stamp.”

Forks hit plates, a glass crashes onto the floor, Ashley spits out a mouthful of water. Holly drops my hand and immediately sprints away through the crowded restaurant.

“Holly, wait,” I call, but she keeps running.