Almost Matched (Almost Bad Boys) by A.O. Peart Page B

movie Ali and I watched, Pretty Woman. You know it?”
    He laughs. “Yeah. It’s a fun movie. I like it.”
    “Richard Gere plays that successful businessman and ends up with Julia Roberts’ character. I remember telling Ali that instead of settling down with a hooker he should have tried some matchmaking service for millionaires. And that’s how the idea started to grow.”    
    “And you’re still single? With all those successful young professionals around?” One corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny smile. Is he prying or is he making fun of me?  
    I slowly shake my head. “We do not get involved with the clients. It’s against the company’s policy.” There. That’s evasive enough.  
    “Would you like another?” He motions to my empty glass. Crap, I drained it way too fast.  
    “Uhm, maybe in a moment. I’m good,” I say. Another drink would definitely calm my nerves though. Why the hell is he making me unravel and melt inside like this? It’s not normal; I don’t even know him.  
    I start to panic inside. Maybe Colin is yet another pretty, bad boy who will charm me into his bed with no intentions of anything past that. Haven’t I had enough with the continuous string of heartbreaks? Suddenly I’m not sure what to do. Maybe I should just get the hell out of here and stop making a fool out of myself. But the last thing I need is to act like a complete loony. And running out of the bar would be just that. So I keep my butt in the chair and try very hard to appear unperturbed.  
    Dammit, maybe I exaggerate. What if he just wants to be friends? Yeah, like hell he does. Who am I kidding? No guy wants to be just friends. Unless friends with benefits. Aha, here it is again—the idea that Ali put in my head. I know why she suggested it to me. She’s well aware of all the screwed up assholes that I somehow seemed to settle on in the last few years. There wasn’t one good guy there. Not even one! She had similar experiences. So her solution is to keep the boundaries, but not give up on fun. The result—a fuck buddy. But would Colin be a good fit? No—that’s not the real question here. The real question is this: am I made of right stuff to do it?  
    Either way, I don’t have to decide tonight. I have to calm down and just enjoy his company. After all, he isn’t doing anything wrong. It’s my hormones that decide to take the driver’s seat in his presence. And I can’t blame the suckers. Colin is great looking and seems to be totally easy-going and fun. Oh, hell.  
    “Earth to Natalie.” I hear Colin’s voice.  
    Crap, I spaced out while having a heated debate with myself.  
    “Oh, sorry.” I blush.   “Maybe I will have another one of those.” I point to my empty glass.  
    He smiles that little sexy grin that makes me want to lean forward and kiss him. What?! Where did that come from? How embarrassing.
    “And some ice water too,” I add quickly. Yeah, a large enough bucket of ice water so I can stick my whole head in it.  
    Colin orders for me. This time the Grumpy Dickhead has my drink ready in record time. I excuse myself and go to the bathroom. On the wall next to the women’s bathroom is a huge framed dry erase board. Dozens of phrases are written on it in colorful markers, each in different handwriting. A small sign next to the frame states:
    NO CRAP. NO CONTACT INFO. ONLY COOL QUOTES ALLOWED. PERIOD.  
    Huh. I start to read. Some are hilarious, some deep, and the others… well, just meh.  
    ‘YOU’RE A HABIT I’D LIKE TO KICK, WITH BOTH FEET’  
    Or,  
    ‘BEAUTY IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER, AND IT MAY BE NECESSARY FROM TIME TO TIME TO GIVE A STUPID OR MISINFORMED BEHOLDER A BLACK EYE! MISS PIGGY’  
    I step back, take my cell phone out, and snap a picture which I promptly text to Ali, Jena, and Caroline. I look at the wall behind me, next to the men’s restroom, and see a twin framed board with tons of quotes on it. I send a photo of that one to my