Page 4 of My Killer Blind Date

Whoa, what is happening here?

‘Ha-ha—’ I say. Redirect!! ‘But tell me more about the department you run at your job—’

‘Nah, let’s cut the bullshit. Look, you’re cute, I’m cute and I know what you meant about “unusual hobbies”—’ He leans close, his voice descending to a whisper. ‘We both know we’re not here to make small talk, right? And listen, I have this pair of handcuffs back at my place—’

Alarms blare in my head.

‘Ah – not really my thing—’

But his lips stretch into a sultry grin, like he thinks I’m resisting as some kind of foreplay. Then, his hand reaches out. Oh, no. He’s going for my knee.

I shoot off the stool. ‘Um, I’d better call it a night!’

I am in shock at how quickly this took a nosedive, but I gave it my best shot, which is all anyone can do in this life, and it is now officially time for Operation Extract Myself From This Date. For once, my lizard brain and my normal brain are in agreement.

‘Already?’ whines Brian. ‘But we were just—’

‘And it was so nice, but I really—’

‘C’mon, Margot.’ His voice is still flirty, but with an edge. ‘Don’t be so uptight—’ He reaches forward again. I try to back away, but I’m wedged between the bar stool and the bar top, and he’s about to make contact—

‘I have a body in the car!’ I shout at the top of my lungs.

Brian’s hand freezes halfway between him and me.

Silence descends on the entire bar area.

Oh, God. I did not.

I did.

Down the length of the bar, all eyes are on me. The bartender, who has stopped wiping the countertop, has his left eyebrow buried in his hairline.

Retreat! Retreat!

‘I mean – my car is in the body shop!’ I laugh. ‘Sorry, everyone – sorry – but I have to pick it up! Right away. They just texted me.’ I reach absentmindedly for my phone, which is … somewhere. ‘Anyway … the car is fine! So don’t worry. Just a … mechanical issue … so, I can’t stay!’

Brian’s expression sours. ‘You know what? Fuck you for wasting my evening.’

I gasp. Without even thinking about what I’m doing, I grab my water glass and toss its contents in his face. While he’s still spluttering, I grab his beer and toss that in his face too.

‘Enjoy your night,’ I mutter.

Then I grab my purse and literally run out of the bar. Guess Brian’s paying tonight.

I leap into the car, heart pounding, and immediately lock the doors. I take a ridiculous amount of time to rock out of the parking space – a bit anticlimactic, considering my rather dramatic exit. The whole time, I’m watching the entrance for Brian, hoping he doesn’t come out.

Brian? He’s no Corydoras. That’s too kind. He’s a pea puffer. Not a peaceful fish. Territorial. Aggressive. Truly, one of the dicks of fish.

And this is why we don’t go on dates.

Chapter Two

Home sweet home, and my phone is already ringing. George, obviously. First, the bra comes off. I fling it blindly and it ricochets on to a bookshelf. Then, I answer.

‘Hey, you.’

‘Girl, how did it go? I want all the details. What you wore, what you ate, what he said, what you said—’