"I hope you don't get your stock tips from him too."
Rick was just about to toss his final dart in the best game he'd thrown all night, when he heard a woman's voice over the loud, classic rock music playing at Dixon's Pub. He glanced at Shane, perched on a stool beside him, then lowered his arm and turned around to see where the comment had come from.
"What's that?" he asked, his eyes falling on a petite woman, maybe 5'6" without her heels, with rich, bronze skin, curly, beaded locs, and a million dollar smile. She was chewing on the straw of her cocktail as she scrolled through the selection on the jukebox beside them.
"I said I hope you don't take stock market advice from your friend here." She gestured to Shane with her chin as she spoke. "Cause his dating advice is some of the worst I've heard."
"Listen here, sweetheart," Shane started, but Rick held a hand up to silence his friend. Truth was, he knew the plan Shane was laying out for him was crap, but more importantly it may have just become obsolete. This woman was so gorgeous, he'd forgotten all about the perky blonde art teacher who had locked her keys in her car at his son's school the day prior, and more than hinted that she had hoped to see him again after he helped her get them out.
Rick took a step in her direction, hoping the dim light and smokey room would mask the impolite path his eyes were traveling up and down her body.
"You got some better advice for me?" he asked, smiling at her over the end of his beer bottle.
"Depends," she said. "You like this girl?"
"Barely know her."
"But you want to."
Rick took another sip, leaning back on his heels as he considered the question. He didn't really care one way or the other if he got to know Jessie. He'd just been told- mostly by Shane- that it was time he got back into the dating game and this seemed like a way to ease into it. A soft, underhand pitch to get him back into the swing of things.
It had been a year since his divorce, another one before that since he'd spent any real time talking to his ex-wife. He wasn't desperate yet, but it would be nice to have a little female companionship again; someone to hang out with other than Shane.
"I'm not gonna commit to that just yet," he said. "But for the sake of this conversation, let's say I do. What's your advice? And your name?"
"Michonne," she said, offering him a firm handshake, as if they were agreeing to a business deal.
"Michonne," he repeated. "I'm Rick."
"Nice to meet you, Rick. Now first of all," she said, leaning back against the jukebox, "this whole wait three days to call thing is childish."
Shane scoffed from his perch, dismissing her with a wave of his hand, though Rick noticed he was still keeping an ear on the conversation.
"Second of all," she continued, "take her to a movie?" She shook her head. "Not only does that scream uncreative, but you just wasted a whole evening without talking, and now you have to go on a second date just to find out if you actually like this girl."
Rick nodded in agreement. She had a good point. He wasn't even sold on the first date with Jessie, the last thing he needed was to commit to a two-for-one deal.
"Third of all," she said, "if you're as nice of a guy as Rico Suave over here says, why would you want to keep that from her? No woman ever refused to screw a guy because he held the door open, or said please and thank you."
"Woah," Rick said, feeling a warm flush begin to creep up his neck at her implication. "I'm not trying to sleep with Jessie."
Michonne quirked an eyebrow at him, and pursed her lips in a dubious smirk.
"I mean, that wasn't my intention- not that I wouldn't. I mean, sex in general- I'm not saying I don't want- I'm just sayin' that wasn't what we were talking about."
"Maybe you do need his help," she chuckled, seemingly enjoying the stuttering fool he had just transformed into. Shane also seemed entertained again, snickering into his beer.
"I don't need his help," Rick said, shaking off the moment and willing back the confidence he just had. He hooked his thumb in the loop on his belt and matched her casual posture, leaning back against the edge of the empty pool table behind them. "So you've given me a list of don'ts...how about some dos?"
"Ok," she said, thinking it over. "Do open doors and use your manners, regardless of your...intentions."
"Try to stop him," Shane snickered. "He's a goddamned boy scout."
Rick felt his cheeks burn again and he shot Shane a sideways glance, but Michonne paid his friend no mind.
"Do take her somewhere fun and exciting," she continued, "but make it a public place, and somewhere where she doesn't have to have a drink to fit in." She slurped the last of her cocktail and let the straw pop out of her mouth loudly to punctuate her point.
"So not a bar?"
"Not a bar."
"Ok then, gimme an example," he said, taking his own last sip. He looked around for the waitress and caught her eye, circling his finger in the air to order another round.
"Like a festival, or a sporting event, or even a hike...just don't take her out into the woods alone- that's creepy. Extra points if you do something a little competitive. Get playful."
"I don't know when women got too good for a damn movie," Shane muttered under his breath.
"Alright," Rick said. He stood and wandered back to the dartboard he had abandoned, tossing his last dart directly into the bullseye. "What else?"
"Always offer to pay."
"Of course." He pulled the darts free and used the side of his hand to erase the little chalkboard where they were keeping score. Shane hopped off his stool and held his hand out, ready to take his turn, but Rick bypassed him, offering the darts to Michonne instead while she spoke.
"Back to this whole nice guy thing," she said, taking them from him and stepping up to the red line painted on the floor. "Compliment her on something. If she looks nice, tell her. Nice guys finishing last is a myth."
She tossed her first dart landing it just outside the bullseye.
"Nice shot," he said, setting his hands on his hips and stepping into her space. "You're pretty good at this."
She grinned her thanks and stepped to take her next one.
The waitress appeared then, handing Rick and Shane each a beer, and Michonne a fresh vodka tonic. She reached for her purse, but Rick held his hand up and told the waitress to put the round on his tab. "For the help," he said.
"Thank you," she said with a smile.
"So that's it?" he asked. "The key to a good date; do something fun and be a gentleman?"
"It's not as hard as your friend here makes it seem," she said to Shane's rolling eyes. "Just be honest and don't play games." She tossed her next two darts expertly, and Rick held his fist out for her to bump in celebration.
"And this whole three days to call thing? It's just as played as the three date rule."
"Played, huh?"
"Old school. Do what feels right." She handed him back the darts, their fingers lingering as she passed them over. Rick kept his eyes on hers, and watched her swallow hard, her confidence seemingly wavering under his stare.
"What was this girl's name again?" she asked, after a moment.
"Who?"
"The one you were planning the date with?"
"I don't remember," he said, swiping his bottom lip with his tongue, before pulling it between his teeth. The song playing from the speakers overhead changed to a softer country ballad, and her mouth turned upward into a grin.
"This is the one I picked," she said, taking another step closer.
"We playing or what?" Shane interrupted, from his spot behind them.
Rick dropped the darts on the table in front of his friend, then turned back to Michonne. "You wanna dance?"
"You need me to teach you how to dance with a girl too?" she asked, playfully.
"I don't actually," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the empty wooden floor in the center of the bar. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her close, and expertly guided them both to the slow rhythm of the song.
"This is sort of a sad song," he said. "What made you pick it?"
"Let's just say my boyfriend...ex-boyfriend, wasn't a star pupil like yourself."
"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, leaning in to speak into her ear. "That why you were here by yourself tonight?"
"It is. My friends left a while ago to go to a party, but I wanted another drink and a sappy song before I call it a night."
"Well, I can promise you," he said, "if this guy wasn't learning, it certainly wasn't because of the teacher."
She smiled at him, letting her head rest on his shoulder as he turned them around. To Rick's delight, the next two songs she had queued up were also slow and sappy, and they stayed exactly as they were, pressed together until the last notes faded away and the lights over the dance floor flicked on and off, indicating it was time for last call.
"Are you driving?" he asked, glancing over at her two empty glasses on the table near the dartboard.
"Taking a cab," she said.
"Let me settle my tab and I'll help you get one."
Michonne nodded, crossing the bar room to gather her coat and purse, while Rick signed his credit card slip. He held a finger up to Shane to tell him to wait where he was, then held the door open, following Michonne out to the curb.
After a quick call and a short wait on the sidewalk outside, a taxi pulled up, idling where they stood.
"Guess this is me," she said.
"So," he asked, stepping into her and resting his hand on the soft curve of her hip, "what's the verdict on the goodnight kiss? Too old school?"
"Whatever feels right," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Remember?"
"Mmhmm," he said. "I was paying attention." He contracted his arm, pulling her into his chest and leaned down, tipping his head to the side and brushing his lips over hers. Michonne sighed, her body relaxing in his embrace, and he took it as a sign to continue. He leaned in again, this time capturing her mouth in a firm but slow kiss that left them both breathless.
He released her lips, keeping his hold around her waist. "Can I see you again?" he asked.
Michonne smiled. "What about Jessie?"
"I think I'll tell Shane to ask her out."
Michonne shook her head, as she reached into her purse for her cellphone. "Poor girl."
"Maybe he learned something tonight, too," Rick shrugged. He didn't really care.
Rick gave her his number, and she dialed it. He pulled his vibrating phone out of his coat pocket and pressed a series of buttons, storing her contact information, then opened the door to the taxi, offering his hand as she climbed inside. "So," he said, once she had belted in. "I'll call you in three days?"
She giggled at him, and he laughed back. "I'm joking," he said. "How about tomorrow?"
"That feels right," she said.
"It does."
A/N Hi everyone, this is week 2 of the RJD Trope Thursdays. Don't forget to look for a new winning trope every week!