Dating Kosher by Michaela Greene Page B

Bev. This is my dad’s wedding, I don’t think it would go over too well.” It was nice, I admitted to myself, to know that Bev was going sans date also. Should I not be able to dig someone up, maybe I’d get Susan to move Bev to my table so at least I could have a buffer between myself and Jacob.
    “Too bad, a little drama is always a good thing.” An evil grin spread across her face; maybe I was rubbing off on her.
    After we ate, we migrated over to the bar section with our respective drinks (mine a chocolate martini, hers a Diet Coke).
    We took over a small table next to the dance floor. Although it should have been hopping on a warm Friday night, most of the bar was empty. The majority of the crowd was outside, but the humid breeze would have done a number on my hair, so we stayed indoors. Anyway, with the bar and the bathrooms inside, it was inevitable that everyone would take at least a few trips past our table over the course of the evening.
    It wasn’t long before a guy sidled up to our table. He was cute enough: brown hair and eyes to match, clean-shaven with a good strong jaw line and from what I could tell, nice teeth that probably set his parents back a few thousand a decade or so ago.
    “Hi,” he said over the music. He looked from me to Bev and then back to me.
    “Hi,” Bev said, too eagerly. She’d never learn.
    “Hey,” I nodded, briefly acknowledging him before turning back to my drink. I ran my finger around the lip of my martini glass, looking longingly into its empty depths.
    “I’m Steve. Can I buy you a drink?”
    Bingo.
    I looked up and smiled. “Sure, I’m having a chocolate martini and my friend here is drinking a rum and Diet Coke.”
    “Virgin,” Bev blurted out.
    Oh God.
    Steve’s eyes widened as he stared at Bev.
    “She means she’s drinking a virgin, so just Diet Coke,” I said, rolling my eyes at him.
    “Oh, yeah, um…Right back.” He glared at me for a second before turning and hightailing it toward the bar.
    “Duh, Bev. If a guy is buying, don’t just get a soda. Sheesh.”
    “I’m such a moron.” Bev smacked her forehead.
    “Don’t worry about it. Look.” I pointed at Steve’s feet: ripped and worn Chuck’s. I shook my head.
    “What do you mean?” Bev asked.
    “Look at those shoes. That guy’s poor or he’s a loser who thinks ripped old runners are retro. No thanks.”
    Bev’s face brightened. “No, wait. Do you know what this is?”
    “God punishing me for eating shrimp on the high holy days?”
    She laughed. “No, it’s your last chance to get a date for the wedding.”
    “Are you on crack?”
    “No, seriously, Shosh. He may seem gross on the outside, but give him a chance and you never know what you’ll find out about him. I don’t know, maybe he’s an heir to the Converse shoe fortune and is just out slumming tonight.”
    “I highly doubt it. You are on crack.”
    “Look, just try it for one night. Think of it as a test. See if you can do it. The wedding is coming and you don’t have a lot of choice unless you want Jacob to be your date.”
    That did it. I quickly closed my mouth on the retort I had prepared.
    Steve, heir to the Converse fortune, was heading back to the table empty-handed.
    “Whatever, let’s see what happens,” I said, rolling my eyes.
    Steve grabbed a stool from the next table over and slid it next to mine before planting his ass into it. “Did you ladies miss me?”
    “I missed a drink,” I said looking down at my empty glass. I could feel Bev’s glaring eyes on me and sighed. Okay, I can do this, I thought. Looking up at him I gave him a teasing smile to let him know I was joking.
    “The waitress is on her way over with our drinks,” Steve said. “I couldn’t carry them all myself.”
    As if on cue, the waitress came out from behind the bar with a suspiciously full tray of drinks.
    She announced each as she placed them in front of us. “One chocolate martini, one Diet Coke, one pint of IPA and three