Page 59 of The Quit List
“I seem to recall a certain someone telling me that they were looking for adventure.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
“You did. And didn’t you update your bio to say that you’re looking for someone to have adventures with?”
“Maybe.” She draws out the word.
“Ergo, you need to be going on adventures yourself in order to have someone join you on your future ones.”
Holly narrows her eyes at me slightly, but then acquiesces. “Okay, okay. Should I get changed?”
“You have a bathing suit with you?”
“Under my dress.”
I try not to dwell on anything under her dress as I shoot her what I hope is a carefree smile. “Then, nah. I like what you’re wearing.”
“I guess pants are overrated.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Hollywood.”
21
HOLLY
That grin of his is starting to feel like a jolt of electricity to the stomach, every time.
Obviously, Jax loves to crank up his flirty charm to make me blush—it might as well be his favorite freaking song on the radio. Ridiculous man.
I just wish that I didn’t get warm all over when he looked me up and down slowly, his eyes lingering on my legs for a hint of a moment too long. I like what you’re wearing.
Clearly, I need to get my head on straight.
“So?” Jax asks from the driver’s seat of his van—sorry, Edna—his eyes moving sideways to meet mine before turning back to the road. He’s wearing a light gray t-shirt today so the tattoos on his bicep peek out below the sleeve. I think it might be the first time I’ve seen him in something that’s not black.
Gray works for him as well as black does… but I genuinely think this guy could dress up like a Tellytubby and I’d think it was sexy.
My body doesn’t seem to understand that Jax is my dating coach and not a potential date. It must be because we talk about my love life so much—it puts me in that headspace when I’m around him.
“So, what?”
“How was your date with Foot Man?”
“Ian was very nice. Kind. Carried a decent conversation,” I reply. Which is true. My mini-golfing date with Ian the podiatrist wasn’t as awkward as some of my other dates. I was able to talk to him without feeling itchy all over, or like my skin was too small for me. We didn’t have that relaxed, easy banter and laughs like I do with Jax, but still. By all accounts, it was a solid enough first date.
Jax doesn’t say anything, so for some reason, I add, “He has a summer home in Savannah.”
I don’t know why I say this. It’s not like that’s why I liked him. I liked him because he seemed like a reasonably good human being who didn’t ogle my chest when he asked me about myself. And sure, there may not have been much—if any—sparks and fireworks between us. But that might come about on a second date, I’m sure.
If he asks me out again, that is. Last night, we parted ways with a simple “good night”—no further plans were made.
“He sounds fancy.” He glances my way. “Able to support and provide for a family.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I guess so.”
“So did you beat him at mini golf?”
“Yeah. Twice, actually.”