A Girl Like You by vinnie Kinsella (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

a wine spritzer from a cute guy with an easy smile.

“Good luck,” he said, and I swear I saw him wink.

I looked around the restaurant, trying to be casual.

There was a man wearing a bowling shirt with pigeons on it, talking to a guy wearing suspenders and very pointy shoes, and another guy with tattoo sleeves, still carrying his Harley helmet. Hmm.

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to push.”

I turned to find a tall guy wearing an untucked light-blue polo and black penny loafers.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Not a problem. Thanks.”

I stepped to the side to let him get up to the bar, stealing a look at his tag: Jack.

Two men by the registration table were talking loudly. “Yeah, so some bitch took the last space when I was clearly waiting for it. I had to drive six blocks to find another lot.”

It was him! The yeller from the parking lot! I fought the urge to hide or run to the ladies’ room. Squinting, I could see his nametag: Frank. Cross him off my list.

After a moment, Laney stood on a chair to be heard. “Good evening, singles!!! Who’s as excited as I am to be here?”

Probably no one, I thought.

“Well, here’s the update, hahaha, we’re expecting more guys, but don’t worry, ladies, there will be plenty to go around!! Hahaha.” Laney said, nearly losing her balance on the chair. Luckily, she was wearing sneakers and not wedge heels. “Single ladies, have a seat at a table and the men will rotate to meet each of you.”

It was like a bad game of musical chairs as the women darted to tables.

I was the last one standing.

“Are we having trouble, Jessica?” Laney pounced on me. “Let me help you find a table.”

Yes, help the elderly, I thought.

She led me to the table farthest in the back of the room, in the shadows, basically halfway into the restaurant’s kitchen. I kicked off my shoes underneath my lonely table and stretched out my toes.

“Okey-doke,” Laney said. “Let’s speed date!”

Pigeon-shirt man came to my table, sloshing his drink on the list of suggested questions.

“I’m Phil,” he said, extending his sweaty hand.

“Jessica,” I said, shaking it, then wiping my palm on my skirt.

“What brings you here tonight?” Phil asked too loudly. “Looking for a love match?”

“Not really. Just looking for friends, I guess.”

“Yeah, ain’t we all,” Phil said morosely, staring into his drink. “Did you ever stop and think, there must be more out there than the life we’re living?”

Startled, I sipped my spritzer. Every day, I thought. Every. Freaking. Day.

“So what do you do?” I changed the subject.

“Sell used cars.” Phil dug into the pocket of his bowling shirt and fished out a card, handing it to me.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to give out our last names, or like, business cards. I think this is supposed to be anonymous.”

“Eh, take it anyway. You might need a gently used car someday,” Phil said sadly.

Ralph, wearing the suspenders, showed me pictures of his dogs on his cell phone.

“Oh, look at that little cutie,” I said, pointing to a snow-white Maltese.

To my horror, he burst into tears. “Just found out she has failing kidneys,” he wept. “Treatment’s going to cost me thousands, but if I have to use up all my savings and sell my house, I will to keep her alive.”

I nearly had tears springing to my eyes with sympathy for the man.

Parking Lot Crazy Man and I sat for the entire six minutes without speaking, both of us with our arms folded across our chests. I whistled a little to break the tension. He stared me down and I glared right back.

Next.

The Harley guy with full tat sleeves reached over the table and tried to hug me hello.

Well, that was ballsy, I thought. Maybe this would be the guy to try out my fantasies…he looked like the type that could be dominant but not hurtful. I liked the tats and the bad-boy image. I had an immediate picture in my mind of him standing in my room, jeans pulled down to his ankles, instructing me how he wanted to be sucked off.

I felt my face flush, so I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

“So, little lady,” he growled. “You ride?”

“Motorcycles? I mean, cycles? I mean, bikes? Ride?” I was stuttering. I gulped my spritzer. “No,” I finally said lamely.

“Then what do you do?”

This I had rehearsed since the debacle with Michael. “I’m rather impulsive. I love to take day trips, you know, unplanned little getaways to Lake Placid or Vermont.”

I stopped talking. Harley guy didn’t even notice. He was looking at the next table, where another single—a delicate, small-boned Asian woman—was laughing, tossing her head back to show off her tiny neck.

“Yes, and I also love to shark wrestle, make my own moccasins and do watercolor paintings with my teeth.”

“Uh-huh,” Harley guy said. “Good for you.”

So much for a future adventurous sex partner. The six minutes couldn’t end soon enough.

At last, Mr. Polo Shirt and penny loafers slid into the seat across from me.

“How’re you holding up?” he smiled. “Need another drink?”

“Oh, no, thanks, I’m fine,” I said.

“So this is quite a trip, huh?” Jack leaned back in his chair, his polo riding up a bit, revealing the button-down fly on his Levi’s. OK! I forced myself to look back up at his face.

“Yeah, quite a trip.” Goddammit, now I sounded like a parrot!

“So, tell me about you.” Jack smiled.

“Well, I have two kids, a dog, a municipal job,” I said, realizing I was making myself out to seem like the dullest woman in America.

“Where’d you go to school?”

“Oneonta State.”

“No way!” Jack laughed. “Some of my closest friends went there. Great party school.”

He looked at me a little more closely. “You a party girl, Jess?”

“You could say that….” I let my sentence trail off in a way I hoped was seductive and enticing.

“Oh yeah? What are you into?”

How to answer…how to answer?

“I’m up for pretty much anything,” I said at last.

“I’m talking