Authors: Olivia Besse
“Please?” Riley squeaked out, drawing his attention back to her pleading smile.
“All right,” Max began, his voice slightly shaking as he did. “Well, first of all, guys really like it when girls...”
––––––––
“S
o, then, I was like, ‘What the fuck, bro?’”
“Oh, I see.”
Trying not to let Sam’s unenthusiastic response irk her, Riley took a long sip of her drink and shot him another bright smile. God, being chirpy and upbeat was seriously annoying, not to mention physically painful. Her cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from grinning and giggling so much.
“So, how much can you bench?” she asked, clearing her throat nervously as she racked her brain for guy-approved conversation topics.
“Huh?” Sam asked, a confused look on his face.
“Do you lift?”
“Weights?” he asked with a frown.
Riley nodded as Max’s words of wisdom replayed themselves in her head.
Guys love it when you challenge them, especially when it comes to physical strength. They love the competition.
“I can bench
at least
a hundred,” she bragged, not even sure of if she was capable of successfully lifting even twenty pounds worth of weights without collapsing.
“Really?” Sam mumbled, eyeing her skeptically.
“Oh yea,” Riley drawled out, forcing a proud smirk onto her face. “I’m really into CrossFit right now.”
“Intense,” Sam commented in a flat voice, staring into his beer as if he would rather be anywhere but there in that grungy sports bar with her.
Fuck, what am I doing wrong?
Riley frantically wondered to herself, shooting another weak smile at her date before shoving a French fry into her mouth.
I’m doing everything Max told me to do! So why isn’t Sam falling in love with me?
After Riley had practically begged him to set her up on her very first Noah-less date, Max had finally relented and arranged for her to meet one of his frat brothers, a nice but boring soccer player named Sam, at one of the pubs near campus for a quick drink. Just as Max had advised, she had taken a laid-back approach to her outfit so as to seem relatable and easygoing, opting for a fitted pair of sweats and a cute, slinky tee shirt in lieu of her usual choice of heels and a trendy dress.
Guys hate it when girls overdress or wear revealing clothes
, she had reminded herself while picking out an outfit earlier that evening, pillaging her entire closet for the perfect nonchalant getup.
She had arrived at their unfussy locale of choice with a hopeful flutter in her heart, wondering if she might even experience the ever-elusive phenomenon of love at first sight. Would Sam like her smile? Her hair? Her clothes? Would he be telling this story to their children fifteen years down the road?
Despite having only passed the thirty minute mark, however, their date felt like it had been going on for eternity, and she couldn’t wait for it to be over so that she could curl up in her bed and cry herself to sleep. Sam seemed tired, bored and miserable, and he was barely even looking in her direction, save for the occasional weak smile or awkward laugh he graced her with.
Oh God, is this what all of my future dates are going to be like?
Riley wondered to herself as she nervously bit on her lip.
Am I going to be alone forever? Will I really end up having to take Max up on his stupid offer?
Even though Sam wasn’t her type in the slightest, what with his shaggy blonde hair, translucent blue eyes and blasé surfer boy attitude, she couldn’t help but yearn for his approval. Who knew? Maybe she would end up falling head over heels in love with him once they finally got the conversation going. After all, it wasn’t like she had been enamored with Noah from the very start either, and anyone with a functional pair of eyes could see how infatuated she was with him now.
“So what kind of music—”
“Look,” Sam began, letting out a tiny sigh as he nervously shredded up the napkin he was holding in his hands. “I think both of us can agree that we don’t really... click.”
At this, Riley could feel her cheeks redden in mortification. Was this really happening? Was he actually rejecting her so... bluntly? What had she done wrong? Could he see the horror in her eyes? Could the people at the next table over hear what was going on?
“I mean, you’re a nice girl, don’t get me wrong,” Sam blurted out once he saw the stricken look on her face. “It’s just... I don’t really think there’s a connection here. Don’t you agree?”
Riley slowly nodded her head, unsure of what else she could even say in response.
A nice girl?
she repeated to herself, trying to choke back the tears that were threatening to form in her eyes. What the hell did he even mean by that? Did he think she was unattractive? Boring? Unworthy of his time?
“Here, I’ll walk you to your car,” Sam offered with a friendly smile after settling the bill. “It’s the least I could—”
“No, it’s fine,” Riley cut him off, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder before reaching over to give him a stiff handshake.
What the fuck are you doing?
she screamed to herself before realizing how awkward her reaction had been. Quickly dropping his hand, she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before giving him one last fake smile. “I... I’m just going to get going first,” she mumbled, lowering her head slightly in hopes that he couldn’t see how crimson her cheeks had become. “Thanks for the fries.”
‘Thanks for the fries’?
she silently repeated with a groan as she scampered away from the scene as fast as she could.
‘Thanks for the fries’?! What the hell is wrong with you?
Once inside the safety of her car, Riley let out a shaky breath before pulling out of the parking lot. Turning up the volume of the shitty love song on the radio, she allowed the clichéd lyrics to drown out the sound of her own thoughts, barely paying attention to the road as she made her way back to her apartment.
Unfortunately for her, even the wailing of a teenaged pop star did little to silence the neurotic voice inside her head, and she was soon going over every single detail of the night as she found herself stopped at a red light.
Did I order the wrong beer?
she wondered as she stared blankly ahead. It was entirely possible, as she hated beer with a passion and had only ordered one in an attempt to seem low maintenance.
What kind of guy would get turned off by a girl’s choice of beer, though?
Maybe I ate too much,
she pondered to herself, though she couldn’t remember what Max had said about eating habits.
Guys like it when girls... eat a lot? Or did he say when they don’t eat too much? Fuck, I’ll have to ask him again when I see him.
Maybe Sam had been turned off because she had accidentally laughed with her mouth full that one time. Or because she hadn’t used a fork. Or maybe because he thought she was a double-dipper. But she had totally turned her fry! Had he not seen it?
Speaking of condiments, had there been ketchup all over her face? At this, Riley carefully licked at the corners of her mouth, though there was no tangy residue to be found. Parsley in her teeth? Boogers in her eye?
Had she worn too much perfume? Not enough? Had she asked too many questions? Maybe he hadn’t been impressed by the 100 pounds that she had mentioned she could supposedly bench press. Should she have said 150 pounds instead?
“What did I do wrong?” Riley moaned aloud as she pulled into her parking spot and turned off the car, lightly banging her forehead against the steering wheel. Try as she might, she couldn’t recall any one moment that had gone spectacularly terrible. So if Sam’s disinterest wasn’t due to something she’d
done,
was the issue something to do with her as a
person
?
Dragging her feet until she reached the front door, Riley took another deep breath. Seeing as how the lights were on, her roommates, Liz and Audrey, were home, which meant that a grand interrogation would likely be awaiting her.
Riley’s two best friends had been more than concerned when she’d moped around the apartment for the first few days following her breakup, exchanging uncomfortable looks with one another as the heartbroken girl cried into glasses of wine and wiped at her snot with the sleeves of her sweatshirts. So the fact that Riley had actually taken a shower and spent a few hours out in public, away from her grimy pajamas and tearstained comforter, was headline-worthy news in and of itself.
You’re a cool, calm dating machine
, Riley chanted soothingly in her head, gingerly placing her hand around the door handle.
You’re an independent woman who is just now coming home from a fabulous date. The first of many, to be exact
, she convinced herself as she slowly pushed open the door.
“Where are you coming from?” Liz asked curiously, surveying her roommate’s uncharacteristically casual outfit with interest as she and Audrey looked up from the crappy reality TV show they were watching. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
“
I
was on a date,” Riley announced with a proud smile.
Not so shrill
, she reminded herself as she saw her two friends exchange a look.
Play it cool, Benson.
“Ooh! Was he cute?” Audrey asked, her eyes wide with excitement. “Does he have cute friends?”
“It was just one of Max’s friends,” Riley told them with a dismissive wave of her hand as she took a seat on the other end of the couch.
Cool, calm, collected.
“How was it?” Liz asked in a cautious voice.
“It was okay,” she told them with a confident shrug, trying not to think back on the humiliating events that had transpired earlier that evening.
“Just okay?”
“I don’t know. I mostly just went for the experience.”
“The experience?” Liz repeated, a dubious expression on her face.
“I’ve decided to turn a new leaf,” Riley replied with a sniff.
“...By being slutty?” Audrey slowly asked, her tiny lips turned downward into a frown.
“No!” Riley blurted out in response. “I’m just trying to make up for lost time. Play the field, go on a few casual dates, you know?”
“Oh, is that so?” Liz teased as she and Audrey shared another look. “You? Miss why-date-somebody-if-you’re-not-going-to-marry-him? Really?”
“I’m just reassessing the situation from a different point of view,” Riley breezily replied. “I’m not going to let someone as stupid as Noah ruin the best years of my life,” she added, trying her best not to burst out in tears at the mention of his name.
“That’s good!” Audrey chirped, though Liz raised her eyebrow in skepticism.
“Those are pretty lofty statements coming from someone who was crying at an episode of
The Bachelor
last night,” Liz said with a laugh.
“It was an
emotional
episode,” Riley snapped, wrinkling her nose in annoyance. “Besides, do you
not
want me to get better?”
“Of course I do!” Liz cried out in response. “I just don’t think you’re completely over it yet. You need time to heal. I mean, you’re probably still in shock.”
“I’m
completely
over it,” Riley retorted, reaching over to grab the remote from Liz’s lap. “It’s as if it never even happened.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m going to play the field, meet a bunch of boys and find the perfect guy,” Riley told them, flipping through the channels until she landed on the episode of
Sex and the City
where Carrie was dumped via Post-it. Shuddering in distaste, she dropped the remote into her lap and sharply turned her gaze back to her roommates. “Just watch me.”
“Not to be pessimistic, or anything, but I don’t think that ‘playing the field’ is in your best interest,” Liz said with a blank expression. “You’re going to get attached and have your heart broken by some jerk if you jump back into dating with that attitude.”
Riley firmly shook her head in disagreement. “Nope! You’re looking at the new and improved Riley Benson, ladies. I’m going to divide and conquer. Pretty soon, I’ll be a dating pro.”
“A dating pro?” Liz asked, smirking in amusement. “In sweatpants?”
“An
easygoing
dating pro,” Riley retorted. “And these are
cashmere
sweatpants!”
“You do look comfy,” Audrey told her with an encouraging nod.
“Exactly,” Riley began, a look of unwavering determination on her face. “Comfy, confident and cool. No more moping, no more crying and no more dwelling on the past. I’m going to charge forward and become a dating champion. Just watch and learn,” she added, letting out a self-assured sigh. “Watch and learn.”
––––––––
“S
o, how’d it go?”
“Man, I felt like a total dick,” Sam muttered under his breath as he collapsed onto the couch. “I thought she was going to burst into tears!”
Max couldn’t help but let a tiny smile creep onto his face. “Really?”
“I don’t get it,” Sam said with a frown as Max passed him a beer. “Tell me again
why
you wanted me to make her miserable?”
“I want her to see that dating’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Max replied with a sniff. “That she doesn’t need to jump back into meeting guys so quickly.”
“She kept cussing and burping and calling me ‘bro,’” Sam told them, his face scrunching up in confusion. “Then she started talking about how many tacos she could eat in one sitting. Why would she even say shit like that?”
“She did?” Max asked, letting out a snort of laughter. “I didn’t think she’d actually take all the crap that I said seriously.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” one of Max’s best friends, a chiseled brunette named Evan, mused.
“Why would you tell her to do all of that stuff anyway?” Sam asked curiously. “And sweatpants? Why would a girl wear sweatpants on a date?”
“To become every guy’s dream girl,” Max theatrically explained. “Based off of our very own Evan here,” he added, grinning broadly as he patted Evan’s shoulder.
“I came up with the burping thing,” Evan announced proudly.