Chapter Seven

Holly

“ I got you a date.”

Given the fact that I’ve just walked through the door a few minutes ago, I’m caught by surprise when Mark calls me out of the blue to tell me he’s somehow found me a date. It’s the last thing I expected, especially after the fiasco of our recent practice date at the coffee shop.

“Jesus?” I joke, a smirk playing on my lips as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and push myself up.

“Funny,” he deadpans, and I can almost picture the frown on his face. I can’t help but wonder if the muscles in his face ever get sore from all that frowning.

I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. “I thought so.”

A heavy sigh leaves him. “Did you even hear what I said?”

“That you did the impossible?” I say, pulling the curtains closed. “Yeah. I heard you.”

“It wasn’t impossible,” Mark says dismissively. “It wasn’t even hard.”

I arch a brow, suspicion taking over. I find that a little hard to believe, considering the last time Mark tried to get me a date, I ended up practically throwing myself at a guy who was checking him out.

“Did you at least vet this person, or did you just grab a random stranger off the street?”

“He’s vetted,” he replies.

My brows knit together. “And you’re sure he’s not gay this time?”

“I’m sure.”

“Cute?”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Are you seriously going to make me answer that, Bambi?” he asks.

“How else am I supposed to know what to expect?” I ask, wedging my phone between my ear and shoulder as I rummage through my wardrobe for my sweats. “What if he’s really old and on his deathbed?”

“Then you’d gain an inheritance,” he deadpans.

My face breaks out into a grin, chuckling as I unzip my skirt and step out of it. “Now you’re talking.”

“Why are you panting?” he asks. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting changed into my sweats,” I tell him as I start unbuttoning my shirt.

“Now?” he asks, his voice tinged with surprise.

“Yeah,” I reply with a shrug as I pull off my shirt. “I just got home.”

“Jesus,” he curses under his breath. “And you couldn’t have waited until after I called you?”

I gasp in mock horror. “Of course not. What kind of monster lounges in their work clothes after they get home? ”

Mark groans deeply, and I can almost feel the frustration radiating through the phone. “You’re killing me.”

“Like I’m going to kill the old guy you set me up with?” I joke, letting my hair fall down from the bun I put it in this morning.

He sighs. “He’s not old, Holly.”

“So he is cute?” I press with a smirk.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs, breathing hard. “Fine. Yes, he’s… cute.”

“Well, damn, okay.” I breathe out a laugh. “Don’t steal my date.”

Mark lets out a groan. “You’re impossible.”

I smile as I pull on my sweats. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t one.”

“I beg to differ,” I say, climbing back into bed and leaning back against the headboard. “So, how did you do it?”

“Do what?” he asks.

“Get him to date me,” I clarify.

A low grunt leaves him. “Like I said, it wasn’t hard. I asked him if he wanted to go on a date with you, and he said yes.”

My brows tug together. “That’s it?”

“What else could I have done?” he asks. “Not all of us can be as eloquent as showing our empty ring finger.”

I’m never going to live that one down, am I? “I don’t know,” I admit. “You could have at least talked me up a little. Did you even say anything about me?”

“I said you were hot. ”

My eyes widen, and I feel the warmth in my body flooding to my cheeks. Mark thinks I’m hot? “Stop flirting with me,” I joke.

He lets out a heavy breath. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Bambi.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Mark doesn’t date, and even if he did, he’d never even think twice about dating me. I guess that’s why I’m so comfortable around him. I don’t have to try and make myself attractive, or desirable. I can just be myself.

“Did you say anything else about me?” I ask him.

“No.”

I blink, waiting for more, but it never follows. “No?” I repeat, my brows tugging together. “That’s it? All you said was I’m hot?”

“Yes,” the big grump says. “He seemed quite pleased by that.”

I shake my head. “Well, did you at least show him a picture of me?”

“I don’t exactly carry around a picture of you in my wallet, Bambi.”

“Oh my god,” I cry out, slamming my hand over my face. “This is what I get for getting a guy to do this.”

“What’s wrong, now?” he grunts.

A nervous laugh leaves me. “Are you kidding me? Everything.” I groan. “What if he thinks I look like a Victoria's Secret model, and then when he shows up, he gets disappointed when he finally sees me?”

“That won’t happen,” he assures me.

“How do you know that?” I ask, a rush of nerves flooding my chest. “What’s his definition of ‘ hot,’ anyway? What if I’m not it?” I let out a loud gasp. “Oh god, what if he’s going to stand me up too?”

“He won’t.”

“He will. I know it,” I continue, groaning as I tilt my head back against my headboard. “It will be just like the last time. He’ll walk inside, take one look at me, and run out the door.”

“He’s not going to do that,” Mark says firmly. “Stop flailing around and calm down, Bambi. There is no way anyone could be disappointed by going on a date with you.” My eyes widen slightly at that statement. “And if he does stand you up, you come and tell me, and I’ll beat some sense into him.”

My jaw drops, and I blink in surprise. “I thought he was your friend.”

“Not if he ends up hurting you.”

A smile tugs at my lips, and I let out a teasing chuckle. “You’d fight someone for me? Mark, you big softie.”

“I’m not a softie,” he says in that deep voice of his that lets me know he’s serious.

“Of course not,” I joke, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. “You’re a big grump. Always mean, always scowling, never smiling… secretly a softie.”

He groans in frustration. “You kill me, Bambi.”

“Make sure I’m credited on your headstone,” I tease, still smiling.

He grunts. “Well, this has been an effective call. I just called to let you know I got you a date. And now you know. Bye, Bambi.”

The call hangs up and I let out an exhale, hoping this date goes well.