Unexpected

Chapter 31

Mallory

I got an unusual text from Dane, asking if I was doing better, but that was not the unusual part. I've become used to him checking in on me in my various states of distress. I'm currently mortified that he was witness to my drunk pity party, but grateful that he didn't mince words about how I should not be giving Josh another chance. He is so right. I need to move on and not just physically but emotionally. I can't let Josh have that kind of power over me anymore.

But back to what was so unusual about Dane's text was the second half. He invited me to hang out with him and his friends this weekend. Skeptical, I asked if HE was currently drunk which he replied that he was completely sober and serious. My follow-up question was if his friends were a part of some motorcycle gang. He then texted that I was being a moron, and to just 'F-ing' say yes or no to going out as friends with his best friend and his wife to the local bar for drinks and a few rounds of pool. Enjoying teasing him for once, I replied with:

Mallory: Why didn't you just say that in the first place?

Dane: YES or NO

Mallory: yes (then a second later)

Mallory: thank you

Dane: Remind me never to offer you kindness again

I laugh, envisioning his grumpy reply as if he was here beside me saying it in person and not next door, just a few hundred yards from me communicating via text. It's probably a good thing, actually. He's growing on me more than I want to admit. Distance might be necessary. I debate if I should continue our fun little texting game, and I can't seem to stop myself as I reply once more.

Mallory: I don't think you can help it. You're just so neighborly. 👼

I added the same angel emoji he used before.

Dane: And you can't help being so annoying 👹

Mallory: But you love me for it

I send it without thinking and then gasp at how that sounds. No, no, no! Why hasn't someone invented a ten second delay or something where you could go back and erase a message before it officially gets sent and read! He's going to think I'm flirting. I'm pretty much asking him to admit he likes me. Then again, maybe not. He is a guy, and they can be pretty clueless sometimes. Maybe he won't read anymore into it than just friendly banter and teasing.

I sit staring at my phone screen anxiously awaiting his reply, if he even sends one. Every second feels like an eternity. I drop my phone down beside me and groan into my hands. Why couldn't I have just ended it with the thank you? Then my phone pings a message alert. I grab it with lightening speed reflexes and read his reply.

Dane: Yeah, I do.

*******************************

I've been eagerly awaiting the weekend. I'm excited to go out and have fun without the pressure of it being a date for once. I jump when I hear the knock on my door, knowing it will be Dane. We've continued to text off and on, nothing remotely flirty. I made sure of that. But via the messaging, we have decided to ride to the bar together and will meet his friends there. I open the door with a cheery hello, and I can't help the little flutter in my tummy at seeing him. How does he make a simple black tee-shirt and blue jeans look so sexy?

"Let me grab my purse, and then we can go."

I run to the bedroom to get my belongings and do a once-over in the mirror. It was so hard deciding what to wear to a non-date date. I typically don't go to bars, but from the few times I've stumbled into one back in my college days, I recalled the dress code was pretty casual. There was always the skimpy or tightly clad women showing off the goods, but that is not my style. Librarian attire wouldn't do either, though. I also didn't feel like one of my few sun dresses would work either, not with leaning over a pool table, so I decided on my well-worn favorite pair of jeans. They are more snug than I remember, but that's all I got. I chose a black peasant style top with billowy short sleeves. I added chunky gold hoops earrings and kept my hair down and tousled, letting my natural waves do whatever they wished. I did apply more eyeliner than usual. I hope wearing my contacts tonight won't be a mistake. They tend to irritate my eyes if I wear them for too long, and I don't want to end up looking like a raccoon. I slip on comfy leopard print flats and hurry back to Dane.