Blind dates weren’t really her cup of tea most of the time. Sometimes if she felt daring, she’d agree to them, but often times she doubted anyone outside of herself knew what she liked when it came to dates. Hell, there were sometimes where even Faye Brookes herself didn’t know what was her type so to speak. Cute and funny were a given. The ability to handle their liquor was a definite plus. But often it varied to an alarming degree where even she couldn’t pinpoint it exactly. Which made those profiles on dating apps a complete nightmare and often a waste of time. She was much more hit on someone at a bar and get naked later type of person, but, she was feeling adventurous when someone at her new job mentioned Anthony Addens and the onslaught of her position of personal assistant to the most blowhard of blowhards whom she mentally referred to as Dirty Harry brought on a lot of stress.
So what better way to release that stress than go out with a cute boy?
And he was cute. Laid back and fun, even. He seemed a bit nervous but trying hard not to show it and she thought it only right not to call attention to it. Licking her lips as he spoke, she couldn’t help but let out a grin. “Not even past the first date and you’re askin’ for ‘nother one? That’s bold. You must really like me then, aye?” Her accent a bit thicker than usual, probably because of the whisky she had no trouble pushing back. It was a light tease, hazel eyes lighting up at the prospect. She didn’t do blind dates often, but this was…kinda nice. For as much as she teased about the eagerness, she really didn’t mind. “I like bold moves, though. A lot of these things I’m always the one to make the first move so to speak. Otherwise I’m playin’ the phone dance where I never get a text or call and never see the person again. Or I do, with another date, which is all kinds of awkward.” Which was such a turn off on these things.
“It’s refreshin’. I admire it. So, yes, I’d like that. I should be off this weekend, maybe more Saturday than anythin’, my boss likes to call me in for overtime for some emergency he supposedly has.” Something she was learning all too quickly. “Tell me more ‘bout these paint and sip nights? I’ve never been, but I like to try new things.”
He huffs out a laugh, almost chokes on it as the sound startles out of him. It’s an exhale more than anything—not the short, abrasive, bleat of laughter he’s prone to, thank God. Seconds ago he was gearing up to stutter out an excuse, or an apology, whichever came out first (That’s bold. Well, yes, you’re right, I will now be retracting that entire statement, I’m so sorry—), and now he’s trying to cope with the reality of her actually saying yes. Because as much merit as he gives paint and sip nights and positive affirmations, he didn’t expect any of this to actually end in a second date. Sure, the affirmations are affirming, and he’s got a wealth of confidence besides that, but he’s also got his own history of dates that tend to fall on a scale of Unremarkable to Fantastically Bad.
This, to say the least, is an outlier.
“Yeah, yes, definitely.” He punctuates each word with a nod. “That’s— definitely awkward.” He cracks a smile, something sheepish and small but steady as his nerves begin to ease. Hearing the words refreshin’ and admire, however, has his positive affirmations of FUN FLIRTY CONFIDENT devolving into an unreassuring stream of cool, cool, cool. Hopefully when their second date rolls around, that pseudo-confidence will actually last. “But cool. Cool. Saturday is cool.” Super cool. Very cool. Cool, cool, cool. “I’ll um, I’ll text you, and you can let me know whenever you’re free.” His smile stretches a little wider, quirking with the hint of another laugh. And the whole maintaining eye contact ordeal gets a little easier as the conversation shifts to something he knows better than the back of his hand.
“Paint and sips are kinda like a painting class? Except there’s wine? Very much a hit with the mom crowd, but fun enough for non-moms, too. Everybody paints the same thing, there’s a teacher. They only give you one glass of wine though, which is bogus—” emphasis on the bogus, eyebrows raised and all— “but it’s pretty easy to sneak yourself another glass if you know where they stash the bottles. All in all, a good time.” Of course, that's coming from a guy who’s visited two of these things in the past month, completely of his own volition.
“But if you’re not into that — and it’s totally cool if you aren’t! — movie’s still on the table. Or bowling, or literally anything else.” The shrug he gives is very much the nonverbal equivalent of ball’s in your court. “I’m down for anything.” He pauses mid-shrug before quickly amending, “Most things. Anything but rock climbing, or hiking, or anything that qualifies as a sport. I draw the line at sports.”
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