your pajamas. You really, really don’t. I promise.)
John grunted then called out, “I will come out there in my pajamas if I want to, Melody. You’re not my mom!”
“Thank goodness,” Melody called back. “Now get dressed and make something of yourself, John. And eat some veggies with that popcorn. Popcorn for supper isn’t a healthy choice.”
“Yes, Mom!” John called out, the ghost of a smile stretching his face as he heard Nick and Melody laugh on the other side of the door.
But the smile faded quickly. By the time he heard the door to the apartment shut behind Nick and his lady, John was deep in the pit of woe once more.
He glanced down at his plaid pajama pants and bright yellow t-shirt that featured a clown puking a rainbow into a toilet, deciding it was the perfect outfit for his present state of mind. Maybe he would wear it tomorrow, too. Maybe he would wear it to work at the tattoo shop and start building his reputation as the local whack-job. Being a womanizer and bringing a new girl home every weekend wasn’t making him happy, so there was no harm in trying something new. And at least being the Summerville resident weirdo would be fun.
With a put upon sigh, John leveraged himself from his chair and shuffled toward the kitchen. This popcorn binge wasn’t going to happen by itself. It was time for him to put in the work.
The second he opened the door, he realized that ignoring Melody’s suggestion to get dressed had been a serious mistake. He also realized that Melody March was not the sweet, girl-next-door that she appeared to be. She was evil, and he intended to tell her so at the first opportunity…assuming he lived through this next encounter with her misery-plague-bearing best friend.
“Hi, John,” Kitty said, springing up from the couch, wiping her hands on her red and white polka dot dress.
He’d never seen Kitty in a dress—she was a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl, one of the many things he liked about her—and the sight threw him a little. The dress was old-fashioned looking, like something from World War II, and emphasized her tiny waist and perfectly rounded hips.
Her glossy brown hair was curled until it bounced around her shoulders, and she was wearing makeup for the first time in their acquaintance—heavy eyeliner and bright red lipstick that made it impossible to keep from staring at her mouth. Her lovely mouth with those lips that had kissed him until he had forgotten his own name around nine o’clock last night, only to leave the bar with a meathead in a Bronco’s football jersey fifteen minutes later.
“What are you doing here?” John asked, running a self-conscious hand through his wild hair. He hadn’t even bothered trying to tame his reddish-brown curls today, or shave the stubble covering most of his face.
“I came to apologize,” Kitty said, shifting from one foot to the other. She was wearing high-heels, too—another first.
Curiouser, and curiouser…
“Melody said you were upset about last night,” Kitty continued, a slight tremble in her voice. “I wanted you to know that I’m sorry for leaving with someone else.”
“Yeah, that was kind of rotten.” John frowned, but kept his voice light. “Why would you do something like that to a nice guy like me?”
Kitty shrugged and her hands flopped at her sides with an awkwardness John found strangely endearing. “It’s a long, stupid story, but basically I think I’m…cursed.”
John lifted an eyebrow. “Cursed?”
She bit her lip. “Yeah. I never make it past the third date with a man. Like, almost never.”
“That’s weird.” John shuffled into the kitchen, propping his hands on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, feeling less self-conscious with his pajama pants partially hidden from Kitty’s view. “So you have—what? Like a phobia of fourth dates, or something?”
“ I don’t,” Kitty said. “The guys I date do. They always end it after the third
John grunted then called out, “I will come out there in my pajamas if I want to, Melody. You’re not my mom!”
“Thank goodness,” Melody called back. “Now get dressed and make something of yourself, John. And eat some veggies with that popcorn. Popcorn for supper isn’t a healthy choice.”
“Yes, Mom!” John called out, the ghost of a smile stretching his face as he heard Nick and Melody laugh on the other side of the door.
But the smile faded quickly. By the time he heard the door to the apartment shut behind Nick and his lady, John was deep in the pit of woe once more.
He glanced down at his plaid pajama pants and bright yellow t-shirt that featured a clown puking a rainbow into a toilet, deciding it was the perfect outfit for his present state of mind. Maybe he would wear it tomorrow, too. Maybe he would wear it to work at the tattoo shop and start building his reputation as the local whack-job. Being a womanizer and bringing a new girl home every weekend wasn’t making him happy, so there was no harm in trying something new. And at least being the Summerville resident weirdo would be fun.
With a put upon sigh, John leveraged himself from his chair and shuffled toward the kitchen. This popcorn binge wasn’t going to happen by itself. It was time for him to put in the work.
The second he opened the door, he realized that ignoring Melody’s suggestion to get dressed had been a serious mistake. He also realized that Melody March was not the sweet, girl-next-door that she appeared to be. She was evil, and he intended to tell her so at the first opportunity…assuming he lived through this next encounter with her misery-plague-bearing best friend.
“Hi, John,” Kitty said, springing up from the couch, wiping her hands on her red and white polka dot dress.
He’d never seen Kitty in a dress—she was a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl, one of the many things he liked about her—and the sight threw him a little. The dress was old-fashioned looking, like something from World War II, and emphasized her tiny waist and perfectly rounded hips.
Her glossy brown hair was curled until it bounced around her shoulders, and she was wearing makeup for the first time in their acquaintance—heavy eyeliner and bright red lipstick that made it impossible to keep from staring at her mouth. Her lovely mouth with those lips that had kissed him until he had forgotten his own name around nine o’clock last night, only to leave the bar with a meathead in a Bronco’s football jersey fifteen minutes later.
“What are you doing here?” John asked, running a self-conscious hand through his wild hair. He hadn’t even bothered trying to tame his reddish-brown curls today, or shave the stubble covering most of his face.
“I came to apologize,” Kitty said, shifting from one foot to the other. She was wearing high-heels, too—another first.
Curiouser, and curiouser…
“Melody said you were upset about last night,” Kitty continued, a slight tremble in her voice. “I wanted you to know that I’m sorry for leaving with someone else.”
“Yeah, that was kind of rotten.” John frowned, but kept his voice light. “Why would you do something like that to a nice guy like me?”
Kitty shrugged and her hands flopped at her sides with an awkwardness John found strangely endearing. “It’s a long, stupid story, but basically I think I’m…cursed.”
John lifted an eyebrow. “Cursed?”
She bit her lip. “Yeah. I never make it past the third date with a man. Like, almost never.”
“That’s weird.” John shuffled into the kitchen, propping his hands on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, feeling less self-conscious with his pajama pants partially hidden from Kitty’s view. “So you have—what? Like a phobia of fourth dates, or something?”
“ I don’t,” Kitty said. “The guys I date do. They always end it after the third
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