Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 3: A New Adult Romantic Comedy Read online

  Contents

  CoaSD - Book 3

  Author's Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Thank you!

  This book is work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book contains explicit material and is intended for readers 18 years or older.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademarked owners of any wordmarks mentioned in the following fiction.

  Copyright © 2016 by Adele Huxley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

  All requests should be forwarded to: [email protected]

  Chronicles of a Serial Dater is a series of 7 short stories designed to keep you laughing all summer long, with a new release nearly every week. Mark your calendars with these dates!

  Book 2 - July 27th

  Book 3 - August 3rd

  Book 4 - August 10th

  Book 5 - August 17th

  Book 6 - August 24th

  Book 7 - August 31st

  Bonus online content will also be released with each addition, adding to the interactive fun! Be on the lookout for any chapter ending with this image:

  Believe it for not, all the dates, conversations, and horror stories in this series are real. Readers just like you were kind enough to share their funniest and worst dates for our entertainment. At least something good came out of them! So if you’re reading these and at any point think, “Come on now, this is too ridiculous,” just remember…

  The truth is always stranger than fiction, and nothing is stranger than online dating.

  You can still get in on the fun! If you have a funny/bad/horrible date you’d like to share, or even some hilarious online conversations, email me at [email protected] with the subject “SUBMISSION”

  I picked up and set down my phone a dozen times, resisting the impulse to text Anette and Lourdes with my every thought. I’m a firm believer that people need to learn how to sit and be by themselves, not constantly seek distractions and instant gratification. But I was nervous. Beyond nervous.

  I’d been chatting with Devon back and forth for a while. Actually, I think we matched up on the second day of me exploring the app but it’d taken us this long to arrange to meet. He was funny, interesting, and not at all pushy about hooking up. In fact, it was me who proposed getting together finally and seeing if we had the same chemistry in person.

  Cue record scratch, brakes screeching, and a loud gasp from the audience. He’s what now? In all the hours we’d spoken, not once did it come up that he was disabled in any way. He had briefly mentioned he’d spent time in the Marines and had been deployed to Iraq, but nothing about any injuries. I quickly put the dots together and surmised that he didn’t like bringing it up. It’s not that I care if someone is in a wheelchair, it just took me completely by surprise. But I’m an open-minded person and certainly not the type to cancel over something like that.

  But my mind raced as I sat in the frozen yogurt shop waiting for him. How disabled is he? Can he use his arms or is it just his legs? And what about the… other parts? Will they work too? Can I ask him that or… Oh God, I’m so freaking rude for even thinking that. He’s a wounded vet, Talia! You can’t just ask a wounded vet if his junk still works! You get the idea.

  Even though I was actively trying to avoid distracting myself with my phone, my nose was buried in it the moment Devon came in.

  “Glad you found the place,” a man suddenly said beside me.

  Like in a slow motion scene from a movie, I started at his shoes and worked my gaze up his body, ending at Devon’s handsome, smiling face… looming a few feet above me. I was stunned into silence, only able to sputter out a generic hello as I stood.

  “You’re more beautiful in person,” he said as he stooped a little to give me a friendly hug.

  “You too…” I mumbled, my mind unable to catch up. “I mean, handsome, not beautiful.”

  He had a great laugh and a powerful presence, which I found disarming. He scanned the shop and said, “Want to build our own sundaes and get to know each other?”

  “Absolutely,” I grinned, feeling a little giddy yet incredibly confused.

  Aside from expecting him to arrive in a wheelchair, the date began amazingly. He had a chiseled jaw, striking eyes, and a smile that his dentist must’ve framed in their office. Despite his charm and obvious good looks, I couldn’t let the disability thing go. It niggled the back of my mind the entire time we talked. We were halfway through our fro-yo when I finally had to ask. At least I had a little tact and didn’t blurt something embarrassing out.

  “So, do you not need a wheelchair every day or…” The question trailed off.

  He nodded as he swallowed a big bite. I tried not to stare as he licked a blob of chocolate from the corner of his mouth. “Ah, well, about that. It’s kind of my way of testing how shallow someone is. If they back out at the last minute after I’ve told them, then I know they weren’t worth my time in the first place.” And I’ll be damned if I didn’t hear that record scratch one more time.

  I felt my forehead crease as I let that wash over me, my temper revving a little at the thought of being tested like that. “But maybe it’s something they would’ve been okay with if you’d been upfront about it? It could be the surprise that bothers them, not the idea of you having a disability.”

  Devon’s brows rose as if considering that angle for the first time. “Hadn’t thought about it that way. You know how this whole dating thing can be. There are a lot of crazies out there,” he shrugged, waving his spoon in the air.

  I had to concede that point and relaxed a little. I’d only been in this strange new world for a few weeks now and I already understood the need to protect yourself, both physically and emotionally. Maybe he didn’t go about it in the right way, but I guess I get it, I thought. The last of my reservations softened and I let myself get into the date.

  The conversation was light but easy. He asked plenty of questions and genuinely listened to my responses. After sitting and talking over empty cups for a half an hour, Devon clapped his hands together. “So! What should we do next? We could go for a walk, go window shopping, or I know a place a few blocks away where we can play shuffleboard.”

  I made a show of thinking hard about my choices, rubbing my chin for effect. “I vote shuffleboard, unless you’re some kind of secret shuffleboard pro and you’re just trying to hustle me,” I grinned as I stood.

  He held his hands up defensively. “I swear I’ve only played shuffleboard in a past life when I was a retiree in Florida.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s not much of an advantage,” I joked.

  Our fingers casually brushed as we strolled down the street chatting. I kept trying to sneak peeks at him he wouldn’t notice. Broad muscular shoulders and soft spoken, he looked like he could handle himself in a fight but could easily charm your grandmother. The sheer confidence rolling off him was incredible and alluring. I’d never been aro
und a guy like him.

  The shuffleboard place was a hipster paradise, but I loved it. A long bar lined the back wall of the bright, open space. People our age filled the six lanes, laughing and drinking while flinging discs down lanes with bizarrely long sticks. There was a little wait for a space to open up, so we grabbed a snack from one of the food trucks parked out front.

  I felt excited and comfortable all at once. It was like we were friends already but were both eager to get to know each other. This is what a first date is supposed to be, I thought. We traded stories, kept the conversation light, and found lots of things to discuss. So far, there’d been no hint of a secret fetish or a desire to quiz me like a trivia night master.

  When we got our lane, Devon offered to buy drinks. “Just a Corona or something light like that,” I said, happy to be with someone polite for once. He gave me another look I couldn’t quite read, but passed it off as date jitters. I’m not gonna lie. I watched him walk away, studying the way his clothes moved against his body. What? You would’ve too, I promise.

  “Okay, we have to make this fast. I have another date lined up for eleven,” he joked as he handed me the cold bottle.

  “I’ll do what I can,” I winked back, enjoying the flutter of butterflies in my belly.

  Shuffleboard is a simple game in theory but proved difficult in practice. It isn’t really the best date activity since you have to stand at opposite ends of the room, but I had a great time regardless. After I lost the first game, we gave up playing and just practiced sliding the disc across the slippery floor. When our hour was up, I’d already decided I liked him enough to see him again. Again, nothing weird to report… just a normal date. Imagine that!

  We strolled around the neighborhood, idly making our way to the station for my train back into Manhattan. He interlaced his fingers with mine as we walked and a splash of warmth filled my belly. It was a perfect way to end a perfect date.

  “Tell me something no one else knows,” he asked softly as we waited to cross the street.

  I bit my lip as I tried to come up with a clever, sarcastic remark. But I had a feeling Devon was a guy who valued sincerity, so instead I chose something real but not too revealing. “Oh, I know! No one knows about this, at all. It’s my super-secret project.”

  “Okay, I’m intrigued.”

  “I’m writing a blog that I haven’t shared with any friends or family or anyone. The best part is people are actually kind of reading it!”

  “Will you share it with me? I’d love to read it.”

  I snorted at the thought of him reading about all my past dates. Between Mr. Chompy, The Ball Gag, and everyone else, I did my best not to laugh. “I’m not sure it’s something you’d be really interested in, but maybe someday.”

  “I can’t wait,” he said as he slowed to a stop. I could see the subway entrance across the street and knew the date was coming to an end. My stomach flip-flopped at the thought of our first kiss. Devon pulled me against the side of a building, out of the flow of foot traffic.

  “I had a great time,” I breathed, looking up into his penetrating eyes.

  He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled tenderly. “Me too. You did so well tonight.”

  I was nearly leaning in for a kiss when I stopped short. Like a looping video, his last sentence played again in my head. “At shuffleboard you mean?”

  “Just… with everything,” he whispered, dipping his head low to my level.

  I pulled my head back and squinted at him questioningly. “What do you mean?”

  “You passed all the tests, with flying colors I might add.” He took a step forward as if I were playing coy in dodging his advances.

  “Tests?” I couldn’t conceal the real edge to my voice now.

  Devon groaned and leaned against the building, as if loath to describe it in detail. “You were cool with the wheelchair thing, which, you know. You picked shuffleboard, which means you’re adventurous. When I offered to buy a drink, you chose something on the cheap side with a low alcohol percentage. And just now when I asked for you to tell me something no one else knows… we really connected.”

  I was going to be physically sick. We were at the end of one of the best first dates of my life. It’d felt effortless and natural. For a few brief moments, I hoped it might have the potential to actually turn into something real. Like, you know, a second fucking date for once! And to find out he’d spent the entire time testing me, rating my decisions on some arbitrary scale so he could determine my dateability

  We’d gone from record scratches to ringing alarm bells, which were sounding more like loud-ass cymbals crashing in my head. On a scale of one to crazy, this dating stuff was starting to look like Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah’s sofa.

  “Yeah, no,” I said taking a big step away from him. “Seems you didn’t pass my asshole test.”

  Devon’s expression tightened, his nose crinkling. “But I canceled my 11 p.m. for you.”

  My eyes went round as I realized that even that seemingly playful comment earlier had been for real. How could I have read this guy so wrong? All I could do was shake my head in disbelief.

  “Wow,” I muttered as I walked away without another word.

  “You really shouldn’t do that, you know,” I warned Zach as I approached the front steps.

  He tapped the ash from the glowing end of his cigarette off to the side and patted the step beside him. “Eh, you gotta go somehow.”

  “E-cigs, gum, patches, whatever you want. I’ll pay for it as long as you quit.”

  He nudged my shoulder, a waft of his cologne and scent smelled surprisingly good. “But then what will you have to nag me about?”

  “True.”

  When I first moved to the city, I wondered why so many people hung out in front of their buildings. I can’t speak for everyone in Manhattan, but I started to for my own reasons. Equal parts socializing with your neighbors and avoiding the stifling heat of the building upstairs.

  “You had a date tonight, right?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Didn’t go well?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  Loose strands of hair stuck to my neck and face as I shook my head. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I thought so, at first.”

  “Right,” Zach declared as he jumped to his feet. He flicked the burning cherry off his cigarette, the bright light arcing through the air and scattering on the sidewalk in a splash of sparks. “You need a strong drink and I just so happen to know a place where we can get them for free tonight.” He smiled down at me and offered his arm, which I gladly took. I know drowning your sorrows in alcohol isn’t the best idea in the world, but it sounded damn good at the time.

  Dive85 was fairly busy, but since we weren’t there for the meat market, we managed to find two seats down at the quiet end of the bar.

  I’d given Rob a knowing smile as we strolled through the door, which he returned sheepishly. I thought about telling him I’d needed earplugs the other night, but chose to save him the embarrassment. Anette spotted us from behind the bar as we walked in and met us after she’d finished with a customer.

  “Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes? You never come in here when I’m working.”

  Zach hooked a thumb towards me as we settled into the barstools. “Another bad date.”

  “Aww, what now? Bestiality? Webbed toes? Lazy eye? Did he turn out to be a war criminal on the run?”

  I shook my head and looked to the ceiling as if trying to remember my date calendar. “No, I’m pretty sure those guys are scheduled for next week.”

  Anette checked up and down the bar to make sure the coast was clear. She grabbed three shot glasses, filled each with vodka, and set them in front of us.

  “To dating,” she said as she raised hers.

  I clinked glasses and knocked the shot back, the alcohol burning my throat on the way down. “That tasted like more,” I said as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.


  “In that case,” Zach said as he pulled out his wallet, “you should start a tab.” He handed Anette a credit card with a wink, all of us knowing that our bar tab would mysteriously end up cleared at the end of the night.

  A couple hours of tossing back countless shots, the woe-is-me dating floodgates opened up and Zach became my tipsy therapist. I was turned toward him, my legs crossed and foot wiggling, head cradled in my hand.

  “You know what the worst part is? Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?” He shook his head and looked away, focusing on his drink. “Seriously,” I pressed. “Guess.”

  “I don’t know, Tal. A couple months?”

  “Eight. Eight fucking months.”

  He frowned as he struggled with the mental math, meeting my gaze. “But you and Kevin only broke up two months ago.”

  My lips curled into a sardonic smile as I took another sip. “Your point?”

  “Jeez, that’s… why? Was it him or you?” he asked and quickly shook his head. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”

  I didn’t care how uncomfortable he was talking about sex. I needed to talk about it. And especially not with Anette who thought I should hump anything with a cock and a pulse… and maybe not even in that order.

  “Hindsight and all that bullshit, but toward the end we became more friends than partners. I chalked it up to the stress of finals and graduating. I knew he was nervous about the next stages and moving in together, so I gave him space. But now I know that space was filled with a cute blonde with big tits.”

  “He’s an asshole,” Zach muttered.

  “Yes he is.”

  “I would’ve never treated you like that,” he said so quietly I’m not sure I was meant to hear it.

  His declaration of friendship made my heart swell. I rubbed his shoulder and cooed. “Aww, I know. That’s because you’re such a sweet guy. Besides, Kevin sucked in bed.”

  “So, what you’re saying is…” he paused to tip the rest of the vodka into his mouth, “he turned into a boyfriend without benefits.”