Getting to Third Date by Kelly McClymer Page B

him.
    There was the awkward end-of-date moment when the question about whether he’d try to kiss me hung in the air. I had a little trouble getting the car door open. I wanted to escape any possibility of a kiss so badly that my fingers were sweaty and I couldn’t find the latch buried in the hole in the door.
    He had his seat belt off and had slid over the bench seat to sit beside me. I was afraid I wasn’t going to avoid the kiss, but all he did was reach over and open the door. “It’s a little tricky.”
    Tell me about it. I leaped out of the car and then turned around, feeling unaccountably guilty. “Thanks for everything.”
    He smiled as if he hadn’t been on the same date as I had. “Thanks for asking me out. I’ve never been asked out before. It was cool.”
    There was nothing to say to that but “Great, see you around.” Like I said, he was a nice enough guy, but he needed a tougher woman than I was to whip him into boyfriend material.
    Sophia was out when I got up to the room. Good. I took one look in the mirror—I still, after all that, looked like a girl who wanted to go out. Interesting what makeup can do when wielded by skilled hands. I was going to have to get Sophia to show me how to do it myself.
    I headed down to the commons room. Without Sophia I couldn’t unload about my date much, though. All that hush-hush stuff about Mother Hubbard. But I could share some details and get some sympathy from the girls who hadn’t had anything too fun to keep them out late tonight.
    There were three girls in sweats and no makeup lounging in the commons. They were watching a makeover show and drinking from a big pitcher of something fruity. After half a semester in the dorm, I knew to come prepared. I filled up my trusty coffee mug and plopped down on a sturdy yet totally uncomfortable orange chair. Clearly the university did not want to tempt us to tote off the furniture if any of us decided to leave dorm living for an apartment of our own.
    â€œHome already? Sophia said you had a hottie on the hook.”
    I took a swig from my mug. “Not hot. So I unhooked him and threw him back.”
    â€œHad to be bad if you’d rather be here, watching strangers get a makeover with us.”
    â€œIt was.”
    The third date had been awkward, painful, and useless. I had been right. Everyone would have to believe Mother Hubbard’s wisdom now.

Seven
    Tyler had no intention of letting me write the third-date project off before he could assess it himself.
    He had arranged to meet me at the campus Starbucks for a copy of the column outlining my worst third date ever.
    He took the flash drive and plugged the file into his laptop, but without even looking at my column, he demanded, “Details.”
    Right. Like I wanted to talk to Tyler about my date. “It’s a column, Tyler, not a novel. Besides, this is a small campus. The more detail, the more likely the guy in question will be easily identified. I don’t want him, but I don’t want to kill his dating chances forever.”
    He grinned. “That’s what ‘names have been changed to protect the innocent’ is for. Change the details.” He scanned to see if our isolated corner table was isolated enough. Except for a couple of football players who were occupied in an arm wrestling match on the other side of the room and didn’t even seem to notice us, we were effectively alone.
    Satisfied that we were not in any way being spied upon, Tyler leaned forward. “The details are for me.”
    â€œWhy?” I didn’t like the thought of giving him a chance to see me in dating mode without even asking me out. It seemed…perverted.
    â€œWe’re friends, aren’t we?”
    I didn’t scream. I hate those words, but I didn’t scream. It was so undignified. “What does our being friends have to do with it?” Besides meaning that he