Free 30 First Dates by Stacey Wiedower Page A

about, but why don't you go out with Paul?"
    "As in, Paul Moreno?" Dave asked. He looked thoughtful for a few seconds. "Yeah. That's a good idea. Make your next date with Paul. I know he's single, and chicks dig him, right?"
    Erin laughed. "Do they, now?" Dave glared at her, squaring his shoulders in a show of machismo that made her giggle harder.
    "He's definitely single," Angie said, choosing to ignore their banter. "He was dating a girl in my building for a long time, and they broke up a few weeks ago. I know he's not going out with anybody else because I heard him say so."
    "Ah, a rebound fling. Nice," Dave said.
    Erin pushed his shoulder. "I am not having a fling with Paul Moreno. I work with him. And I'm not asking him out, either. It'd be too weird. Forget it."
    "I'll do it for you," Dave pushed. Apparently he'd decided to forgive her for not letting him in on her secret.
    "No. N - O . I'll find my dates on my own, thank you very much."
    As she said it, though, she remembered she actually did need help. Sure, it was early in her blogging experiment, but she figured the thirteen and a half or so months left until her thirtieth birthday would fly by faster than she was prepared for. How was she going to find twenty-eight more guys to go out with? She dated a normal, healthy amount, she thought, but she probably hadn't been out with more than ten or fifteen guys in the last five years, let alone the last year and a half. She started ticking off names in her head.
    Across the table, she saw Dave's eyes narrow, evaluating her reaction. He looked over at Angie and—deliberately, it seemed—changed the subject.
    Uh-oh , Erin thought. What now?
     
    *  *  *
     
    That afternoon, she stayed in her classroom until 4:30, grading quizzes from her fifth-period geometry class so she wouldn't have to take them home. As she walked down the empty corridor toward the exit closest to her car, she was thinking about Ben—whether he'd talked to his mom, whether he was still feeling anxious about his dad, what she could do or say to help him out of his funk. She hadn't thought any more about her lunchtime conversation.
    Just before she reached the double doors—hand outstretched, fingers just grazing the handle—someone called her name from the other end of the hall. She spun in the direction of the voice, and her bag slipped from her left shoulder.
    "Wait up." Paul Moreno was jogging toward her. Oh, jeez. Surely not? She was going to kill Dave.
    She hefted her bulky canvas tote back onto her shoulder and pasted a smile on her face to mask her annoyance. Whether or not she needed help finding dates, she obviously should have kept her mouth shut about her blog at work.
    "Hi Paul. What's going on?"
    He slowed his pace as he approached and then reached around her to open the door. "Nothing much. You?"
    She followed him through the doors, distracted for a moment by the display of chivalry. Not many guys these days were chivalrous, and anyway, she was never sure whether she should feel flattered or offended by it. She smiled again. "Nothing much."
    Paul walked beside her in silence for a few seconds, and she realized this was the first time she'd ever spoken to him one on one. He was new to NHS. He'd come in mid-year and taught history—she wasn't sure which classes. She'd been around him two or three times, made small talk with him at faculty meetings, but always with other teachers around. He was very tall, probably at least 6'4". She felt dwarfed beside him. His dark hair was short and neat, his skin the color of a caramel apple. Dave was right—he was the type of guy "chicks dug." In another situation she might have seen herself being interested.
    Not in this situation.
    Things were getting awkward fast, she thought. They couldn't keep not talking. She struggled to find words that would diffuse the tension she felt.
    "So, Dave got to you, right?" She glanced at him to assess his reaction. His eyes opened a little wider, but otherwise