Meet-cute

By C.C. Dado

Elliot Beck may not have been blessed with mad art skills, a crooner's voice, or a godlike physique, but he makes up for it with an abundance of quick-witted sarcasm, massive insecurities, and a love of bad boys.

After his best friend Trevor finds him naked and tied to his bed—abandoned by his latest troublemaker—Trevor convinces him to take a chance on a nice guy. When he has an awkward encounter in the men's restroom with a fitness instructor named Chase, he never suspects the Adonis might be his perfect bad boy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
• Release date: Aug 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781627989572

Book preview

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Chapter 1: Elliot

STAN BRAUNSTEIN was like a horrific case of déjà vu. I could tell by the look on his tiny mustached face as he walked over to me that it was about to happen again.

Elliot, I’m going to need you to hurry up with those account ledgers for the art department, Stan said, looking down his nose at me from the other side of my desk. I don’t understand what you do all day on that computer, he said with disgust, shaking his head and writing in his notebook.

If I was an awesome superhero, Stan would be my nemesis, and we would battle royal to the death.

I’ve worked with him in the accounting department at the CIU Corporation for three years now. Technically, we were the accounting department at CIU. And since he sucked, that meant I was the accounting department. I’m pretty sure Stan was the worst person alive. He didn’t understand the first thing about accounting. He only got the job because our boss was his uncle.

You know you have no authority over me, right, Stan? I said, closing my eyes and slowly exhaling before responding further. I had heard somewhere that deep breathing was a coping mechanism for not choking out your coworkers. It was a technique I used frequently around Stan. And even if I explained what I do on my computer all day, you still wouldn’t understand because you’re a shitty accountant. That may have been kind of harsh, but I was done having this conversation with him the first five hundred times we had it; blatant honesty and deep breathing were the only things that kept me going.

My uncle will fire you if he ever hears you talking to me like that, he said in his annoying, nasally voice, sounding more like a spoiled teenager than a forty-year-old man.

No, he won’t, Stan, I said, knowing his uncle was fully aware of who actually did the work around here. I put my headphones back on and returned my attention to the quarterly financial reports and the bag of Doritos I was thoroughly enjoying before I was so rudely interrupted. As if Stan’s creepy mustache wasn’t bad enough, he was also super greasy. I swore he slicked his hair back with bacon grease or really cheap hair gel.

Either way, he was creepy and smelled like pig fat. And I had to spend every day with him. I wasn’t sure why I had to be so good at math. Why couldn’t I have been gifted with mad art skills or have a crooner’s voice? Oh, I would get so much dick if I had a crooner’s voice. Math skills got me nothing but having to deal with fucktards like Stan.

I was saved from delving further into that bowl of hatred by my phone ringing. It was my friend Trevor.

Trevor moved to Seattle when I was in the second grade. I remember we were all lined up for kickball. And since he was new and the size of a fifth grader, they let him be a team captain. He stood on the mound with the teacher and the other team captain, Eric Miller, who I was almost positive was doing hard time in prison nowadays. They flipped a coin and Eric picked Tony Corialis—no shocker there. He was the fastest runner in second grade. I personally thought team sports should be banned in schools. There was nothing like a big public face full of no one wants you on their team to start your day out. The only thing that usually stood between me and the public humiliation of becoming the last one picked was Wally Winderman: his red hair, thick rimmed glasses, and chronic allergies were the key to my athletic success. I kind of felt bad that he was always picked last. I mean, it was already pretty obvious his parents hated him because, seriously, nobody who loved you would name you Wally Winderman, so picking him last was just adding insult to injury. But of course, Wally was out sick that day.

Thanks a lot, Wally.

Since I wasn’t known for my speed and agility, I just tried not to make eye contact so I didn’t come across as desperate. It didn’t help my case that I was a bit on the chubby side. So there I stood, waiting for the humiliation to be over. It took the kid next to me pushing me forward for me to realize Trevor had chosen me as his first pick. The rest of the class was just as confused as I was as I walked up to stand next to him at the plate.

I realized two weeks later he didn’t just choose me to play on his team. He had chosen me to be his best friend. We were inseparable from that day on. I asked him one time why he had picked me that day, and he said,

Reviews for Meet-cute

[locolibros · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I liked Elliot, finding his self-deprecating world view and insecurities to be endearing. It's one of those where the character's snarky attitude will either be very entertaining or annoying and, fortunately for me, I enjoyed the trip through Elliot's point of view.