Page 54 of Love Me Not

This should be interesting. “What’s that?”

“Practice.”

I walked right into that one. “Dating isn’t a sport.”

“Practice isn’t only for sports.” He dipped a fry in the ketchup. “You practice playing an instrument or painting or dancing. Take the play, for example. Weeks of practice go into that.”

This man was either overly rational or the milkshake brain freeze had done real damage, because I could not think of an argument for the lunacy he was suggesting.

“I’m not saying I agree with you, but out of curiosity, how would a person practice dating?”

He popped the whole fry into his mouth and I took great satisfaction in knowing he was stalling. Mr. Smarty Pants hadn’t thought this through.

“First, you’d have to pick someone to practice with.” Was he going to volunteer for that position? “Then you’d have to set some ground rules.”

“Ground rules?”

“The other person has to know you’re only practicing. Otherwise feelings get involved, and then there’s the potential for someone to get hurt.”

How… “You can’t date without feelings getting involved. That’s the whole point.”

“Eventually,” he conceded, “but first you have to practice being around another person. Let them into your space and you step into theirs. See how that feels.”

He was already too far inside my head. Letting him into my living room would be far too dangerous. “That’s hanging out, not dating.”

“If you think about it, dating is really just hanging out.” He rested his elbows on the table. “It’s just limiting the hang-outs to two people.”

The man had an answer for everything. “Now you’re playing semantics.” I stuffed the last bite of my burger into my mouth as Maureen returned with Trey’s water and napkins.

“Here you go.” She set down the napkins while filling his glass from a pitcher. “Are we saving room for dessert?”

Trey said, “Not for me, thanks.”

“I’ll have the chocolate sundae, please.”

“You’ve got it.”

Maureen walked off with her pitcher and Trey stared at me as if I’d grown a third eye. “What?”

“A sundae on top of a milkshake?”

So I liked my sweets. “That sounds very judgy.”

“I’m not judging. I’m concerned about your arteries. Not to mention all that sugar keeping you up all night.”

No need to be concerned on that front. “I don’t sleep much anyway.”

Burger halfway to his mouth, he paused. “Why not?”

Good question. If I knew the answer, I’d be sleeping more. “No idea. I can nap, but when it’s time to sleep for the night my brain kicks in and it’s a losing battle. Once I do fall out, I wake up over and over until the alarm goes off and I drag myself out of bed.”

Trey wiped his mouth as he leaned back. “No wonder you’re so cranky.”

“I’ve always been cranky. Lack of sleep has nothing to do with it.” Reaching for my shake, I added, “I suppose you’re an eight hour a night person who leaps out of bed full of energy in the morning.”

“I am,” he said, beaming with pride. The psychopath. “That’s what regular exercise does for you.”

He could stuff his regular exercise where the sun didn’t shine. “I’d rather sit and read a book any day.”