Silver hoop earrings.

Basic but—gorgeous.

“Are you usually on time?” Is the first thing I ask, sliding into the booth on the opposite side of her. She’s gotten us both water and two menus are resting between the place settings.

“Honestly? No.” Since I didn’t hug her or shake her hand, momentarily she seems lost, then slides in, too. “Um.” Hannah busies herself by placing the paper napkin on her lap, then smiling. “Not usually. I’m almost always late.”

“I’m not.” Years of being on the wrestling team, under the watchful eye of Joe Donnelly, has trained me to value punctuality. He would tolerate nothing less; still doesn’t. “You know what they say; if you’re not ten minutes early, you’re late.”

“Who says that?”

“Everyone.” How has she never heard that quote before?

Hannah rolls her pretty eyes at me, punctuating the expression with a smile. I notice she has a small indent in the side of her cheek. Dimples.

God I love those.

She shifts as I study her, my eyes lingering on the hair she has pulled back off her face; her smooth skin that seems to be glowing under the soft lights of the pub. It’s not the classiest place for a first date, but then again—this isn’t a date.

It’s not a date, it’s not a class. Actually, I don’t know what the hell we’re doing, but it’s at that moment I notice a blue notebook on the table.

A pen.

“You brought a notebook? Why?”

“Of course I did!” She looks surprised I’m asking. “I wanted to be prepared in case you had actual wisdom. I have the worst memory.” She pushes the notebook forward with the tip of her finger, smile lingering on her mouth.

I don’t think she’s flirting; it’s hard to tell if she’s just being friendly.

The last thing I need is her writing down the stupid shit that comes out of my mouth. I’ve seen things I’ve said in writing before and trust me when I say: no one needs to write it down.

I swipe the menu, stomach rumbling. “You know—before we get ahead of ourselves, can we order something to eat? I’m fucking starved.”

Hannah pulls a menu toward her, opening it like a book, gaze trailing up and down the columns. Every few seconds, she makes a little, “Hmmm,” sound from her throat, indecision marring her brow.

“Do I want a burger? Or pasta?” Up and down her eyes go. “Chicken tenders sound so good, I’m craving ranch dressing.” Up and down. “Oh crap, they have nachos.” She averts her eyes and looks over the top of the menu at me. “Wait. What are you getting?”

I’ve been so busy staring at her, I haven’t glanced at the menu once, though to be honest: I know everything that’s on it and have already decided on a hamburger.

“Probably a burger and fries.”

Hannah squints down. “Are you a sharer?”

“What’s a sharer?”

“You know—are you going to get all bitchy if I steal some of your fries?”

“Uh, no. You can have some of my fries.”

She nods, eyes fixated once again on the menu. “Okay, well in that case, I’ll haveee…I’ll have.” Pause. “Er. Um. Shit, I’m straight up panicking.”

The server hasn’t even come to the table to ask for our drink order, let alone find out what we’d like to eat.

“Maybe don’t do this on your next date.”

“Do what?”

“Freak out about what to eat.”

Hannah shoots me a patronizing look. “Yeah right—guys never want to take girls out to dinner, they want to do drinks. It’s cheaper.”

She’s right, most of them do.

It’s easy to rack up dinner charges when you’re trying to date—or just get laid—taking girls to eat. If it doesn’t work out and you’ve shelled out fifty bucks for dinner when you could have simply spent ten dollars on drinks? It adds up.

“Guys are just as jaded as girls are these days,” Hannah says, eyes still glued to the front page of the menu. “Guess I don’t blame them, but sheesh, put in a little effort. Maybe it’ll pay off.”

“Okay, well. What I was saying is—be more chill when you’re ordering food if you’re on a date.”

“Me? I’m always chill.” I can tell she’s tempted to roll her eyes my direction by the way she twitches. She’d make a terrible poker player.

I snicker into my water glass. “Right. You’re so chill, I can tell.”

Hannah is anything but chill, but I’m not going to argue with her. She looks way too hungry—on the verge of chewing my arm off, actually, if that glassy look in her eye is any indication.

“I’ll have a burger, too,” she announces, closing the menu and setting it back down on the table. “With onion, cheese, and mayo on the side. And a pickle.”

Onion, cheese, pickle and mayo? “Well, there goes my odds of getting lucky tonight? You’re definitely going to stink to high heaven.”

“Haha, very funny. This isn’t a date.”

“I know I was just teasing.”

“But if it was,” Hannah goes on. “I’d still order the same thing. I don’t smell from onions.”

“Are you bragging?”

Her shoulders rise. “Nope, stating a fact. I can eat asparagus, too, without it stinking.”

She’s definitely bragging. “Maybe now is a good time to write down: don’t discuss bodily functions on a first date.”

Hannah tilts her head. “Bodily functions? I’m talking about body odor, not farting or shitting whatever. Is that bad?”

Did she just say farting and shitting? Jesus, I’ve been told I have no manners in public. “No. I mean. No, but—there are a billion things to talk about and this is what we’re discussing.”

Her lips twist. “Once again, you’re the one who brought it up.”

Shit, she’s right. Again. But only because she’s going to order onions and pickles. Gross combo.

I give her notebook a light tap and nudge it in her direction.

“I think I can remember those few things without writing them down, but thanks.” Her sentence is laced with sarcasm.

“Really though? Because the list keeps growing. Ordering food that smells, mentioning farting and shitting, panic about what to order and interrogating the table about what they are ordering and if they are a sharer.”

“Wow, Rex, tell me how you really feel.” She sets her elbows on the table and leans forward. “Am I really that terrible?”

Crap, now I feel bad. She suddenly looks a bit beat down and that’s not my intention. Hannah is way too cute for that; honest and direct. Beautiful. Smart. Quick, clever and totally my type.

Too damn bad I’m obviously not hers; she’s just using me for information. Whatever, I’ll take what I can get until I find someone who also wants to use me for my body.

Honestly, who am I trying to kid. I actually want a relationship, not to be jerked around by some girl who’s bored. Fine. I don’t think Hannah is bored, I think she’s just clueless about what she wants and the kind of guy she wants to date.