Free See Jane Date by Melissa Senate

pride now in the name of saving it later.
    â€œYou have really beautiful eyes,” Kevin Adams said.
    Score one for Kevin Adams. He’d slightly redeemed himself. Maybe I’d judged him too hastily?
    Yeah, and maybe one stupid compliment from a total jerk was all it took to make everything okay. I might have been desperate, but I wasn’t stupid.
    I dusted off the powdered sugar, sat down and smiled at my potential wedding date.
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    At three o’clock, Kevin Adams gingerly stood up. He made low, grunting sounds and contorted his features like the guys who lifted weights at the health club I’d stopped going to. I wasn’t sure if he was really in pain or just a total wuss.
    â€œSo, I had a really nice time,” he said, slipping the blue sweater over his head.
    He had a nice body, I noticed, eyeing him as the sweater was over his face. Flat stomach, long legs. And he was really cute. Not Pierce Brosnan, but then who was, besides Jeremy?
    So what if Kevin wasn’t Mr. Manners? Not every guy had been raised well. Sometimes women had to train their men. The issue wasn’t that he’d started the date without me and then invited me to join him when he was damned good and ready. Nor that he’d asked me to get him another soup cup of coffee while I got my own. The issue was that he was good-looking, male and lived on the Upper West Side in a brownstone. He was only gummy when he smiled.
    I decided right then and there to accept a second date. If he asked. I’d gotten the impression that he liked me. Our date hadn’t been very long, but we’d talked easily. Mostly about how great Amanda and Jeff were.
    â€œSo, um, Jane,” he said, grabbing his knapsack. “I’ll give you a call.”
    Oh. Everyone knew what that meant. An I’ll Call meant: I wasn’t attracted to you, but you’re a nice person, so, take care. Why couldn’t guys just say something like that outright? Why raise false hopes?
    Kevin leaned forward awkwardly and air-kissed me.
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    I woke up on Sunday morning to pouring rain and a headache. Eloise had taken me out for Mexican last night; she’d insisted that a few stiff frozen margaritas would clear my mind of Kevin Adams. She’d been right. But now I had both a migraine and my memory restored.
    At least I wouldn’t have to go out in the downpour for The New York Times . I’d been smart enough to pick one up last night at the newsstand where Eloise had flirted with the Indian clerk.
    I threw the comforter off me and shuffled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Oh man! I mentally whined. I should have bought milk last night. I opened the fridge and shook the quart of skim. There was just a trickle left.
    This clearly wasn’t going to be a great day, but it had to be better than yesterday. Amanda had called last night to hear if she’d sparked a love match. I sugarcoated the report by telling her that Kevin and I didn’t seem to have chemistry, but that if he called again, I’d be happy to go out again. Which he wouldn’t. No way would I tell her the guy was a big fat jerk. Amanda had done me a favor by fixing me up. Plus, I couldn’t afford to re-alienate my wedding date resource’s boyfriend.
    I flopped back into bed and lugged the heavy Times onto my stomach, dumping the sections I never read onto the floor (Automobiles, Sports, Money & Business, the front section). I grabbed Styles and turned to the wedding announcements. I always liked to look for people I knew. Maybe three times in my life I’d recognized a name. Two from college and one from Posh, an intern who’d left a long time ago. The main reason I read the wedding section was to check ages and jobs to see how I stacked up against them.
    Lots of twenty-seven-year-olds were getting hitched. Elementary teachers at private schools were aplenty, as were Internet executives like Larry Fishkill. Ugh. In a couple of months