Me: I was that bad?

BlueAsTheSky: Yes, you were that bad.

What the hell did JB do on this date?

BlueAsTheSky: So, if there is nothing else you need…

She’s trying to give me the brushoff, but I’m not ready to let her go yet.

Me: There is no way I can make it up to you?

BlueAsTheSky: I don’t think so.

Me: What if…

I pause, not sure how to end the sentence.

BlueAsTheSky: What if…?

Me: What if we go out again, and I let you pick the place?

BlueAsTheSky: I don’t know, JB… I think we both need to move on. It was fun talking to you, but in person we have nothing in common.

She’s right; they have nothing in common and never will. Because Skylar is sweet and funny, and Jack is a complete douchebag with fucked-up priorities who isn’t ready to settle down with anyone, and certainly not someone like Blue.

What he wants right now is the physical gratification—not an emotional connection—that he isn’t getting in the weight room or in the middle of the wrestling mat.

Blue wants more, and she’ll never find it with my roommate.

So why won’t I let this go?

Give it a rest, Abe.

BlueAsTheSky: You know I’m right about this. It’s not like you were into me, either.

She couldn’t be more right, but I’m not going to insult her by agreeing.

BlueAsTheSky: There are better girls out there for you than me, someone who’s okay with a one-night stand and isn’t going to get her feelings hurt when you don’t message her the next day.

All very true.

Me: Maybe that’s not what I need right now.

God, what the hell am I saying.

Jack is going to kill me when he sees this.

BlueAsTheSky: Are you saying this because you hate the fact that I walked away from you? And not the other way around?

Me: No, that’s not it at all.

BlueAsTheSky: Then what is it? Because tonight you didn’t seem to care that I left before even ordering a drink.

Shit. She hadn’t even ordered anything?

How long was the date, fifteen minutes?

Me: I have a lot of pride, but not THAT much pride. I know when I’ve screwed up.

I do. Me, Abe.

I’m suddenly speaking for myself, not for my roommate, who almost always screws up but makes no apologies for his behavior.

Me? I can’t live like that. I’m always atoning for my sins and mistakes—though few and far between they may be.

I try not to be a dick.

BlueAsTheSky: Hmm.

Me: Is that a good hmm or a bad hmmm?

BlueAsTheSky: I’m thinking about it.

Hope springs up inside my chest, but I tamp it down—because even if she agrees to go out with me again, it’s going to be with Jack.

Unless…

Me: Do you have any single friends?

BlueAsTheSky: Yes…

BlueAsTheSky: Why?

Me: We could double date. I have a single roommate. Remember, he’s a tutor?

There’s a long pause before she responds, but that bubble continues to appear, disappear, and reappear.

BlueAsTheSky: Oh? Tell me more about this roommate of yours—do you have much in common?

Me: If you’re trying to find out if he’s a douchebag, the answer is no. He’s a pretty decent guy.

BlueAsTheSky: How so?

Me: The guys on the team call him Grandpa because he’s so responsible.

BlueAsTheSky: Why is he single?

I hate this question, as if being single is as bad as having a contagious disease. And far be it from me to point out that she is single, too, and not once have I asked why.

I wasn’t interested before.

But I am now.

Me: He studies a lot when he’s not practicing.

BlueAsTheSky: Practicing what?

Me: He’s a wrestler, too.

BlueAsTheSky: Hmmm

What the hell does that mean?

Me: But he’s quiet, doesn’t go out much.

BlueAsTheSky: Kind of like a hermit? What’s wrong with him?

Me: Nothing is wrong with him; he’s just not into partying and casual dating.

BlueAsTheSky: I see.

BlueAsTheSky: Will he talk, or is he gonna just sit there?

Me: He’ll talk, LOL—he’s not a mute.

BlueAsTheSky: Well I DON’T KNOW—you said he doesn’t go out much so I assumed he doesn’t like peopling.

Me: What the hell is peopling?

BlueAsTheSky: You know, going out in public. Seeing people. Some people hate people LOL

BlueAsTheSky: What’s his name?

Me: Are you going to look him up?

BlueAsTheSky: Probably. I have to—I have to know who I’m setting my friend up with.

Me: Which friend?

BlueAsTheSky: My roommate is single. Her name is Hannah.

Me: My roommate’s name is Abe.

BlueAsTheSky: Abe _____ (fill in blank) If I’m going to properly stalk him, I’ll need his full name. Please and thank you.

Me: Abe Davis

Silence.

Absolute silence, and I—

BlueAsTheSky: Gosh. Abe Davis is kind of super cute. No offense.

Another sensation forms in my gut; instead of guilt, this one feels more like a sucker punch of stone, cold irony to the stomach. She thinks Abe Davis is cute, doesn’t really care for JB.

Me: Why would I be offended?

BlueAsTheSky: Because I just called your roommate cute.

Me: Correction—you called him Super Cute.

BlueAsTheSky: He’s not a superhero—you can lay off making it a proper noun.

Me: I have to though.

BlueAsTheSky: LOL

Me: So does that mean you’re willing to double date?

BlueAsTheSky: Um. Sure. I think she’d be cool with that, and it’ll be nice to have two other people there so you’ll be on your best behavior…

Me: Very funny.

BlueAsTheSky: It’s the truth. I wasn’t impressed with you—AT. ALL.

Me: You don’t hold back, do you?

BlueAsTheSky: I see no reason to.

Me: Obviously not.

Skylar

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

Hannah is already pestering me from her bedroom door, and I ignore her.

She fills the silence. “The correct answer is no. No, you cannot wear that on this date.”

“But—”

“Ah ah ah!” Hannah tsks. “I don’t care if he wore pajamas on your first date. You are not wearing those gross leggings. Put on jeans and have a little dignity. Show him what he’s missing by acting like douche dribble.”

What the fuuuu…

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

She gives her hair a toss. “Do you like it? Douche dribble.”

“Oh, I heard you the first time.”

“Heard it in the cafeteria yesterday when I was grabbing a salad between classes.”

“It’s godawful.”

“It’s creative.”

She sounds so put out that I laugh, giving her a once-over. She’s not taking this date seriously either, judging by her barely made-up face and the straight hair she refuses to take time to curl.

We both decided earlier this date with JB is probably going to be a waste of time—once a douchebag, always a douchebag.

“Throw those jeans on and let’s get this show on the road,” Miss Bossy Pants tells me, pointing at the bed, where the dark denim is neatly folded and waiting to be put on.