The Undateable Page 5

She tended to make unfortunate wardrobe choices. She really did look like what the rest of the world assumed a librarian looked like—messy hair, fussy sweater, big glasses. It was not a cute look. That was what made the meme especially embarrassing. When she’d left the house that morning, she’d thought she looked good.

  “Um, maybe? Or maybe like a librarian?”

  “Well, I am a librarian, so no matter what I wear, technically I am dressed like a librarian.”

  The pixie thought about that for a second, then wrote it down.

  “Have you ever thought about dressing . . . differently?”

  No, Bernie wanted to say, but that wasn’t true. Just this morning she had been wishing for some clothes that were a little less nouveau-spinster. She wasn’t even dressed not-hip enough to be considered a hipster.

  But what did that have to do with this student?

  “I’m sorry, did you have a research question?”

  “Yes!” the girl said, brightly. “Well, no. I’m a writer for Glaze.com.”

  The girl didn’t look old enough to be a writer. Or maybe Bernie was getting old. She sometimes thought the juniors didn’t look old enough to be freshmen.

  Then something the girl said stuck out. “Glaze.com? The fashion site?”

  “You know it?”

  “You don’t have to look so surprised.”

  The pixie blinked at her.

  “Everyone knows Glaze. Clea Summers went here.”

  “She did?”

  “Yup. She worked in this library, too. Well, not this library. The old library. Way before my time. The one before we got computers.”

  The pixie blinked again. She probably didn’t understand a time before computers.

  “So, ah, if there’s nothing else . . .” Bernie suggested, nodding as subtly as possible to the line of students forming.

  “Do you want a makeover?”

  “What?”

  “You’re the meme, right? The Disapproving Librarian? I saw it and I thought, there’s a woman who could use a makeover.”

  And just when Bernie thought her day couldn’t get any worse.

  * * *

  It was shabbier than he’d thought it would be.

  That was Colin’s first thought as he entered the Richmond College Library.

  It wasn’t a very kind thought, but it was true—the furniture was worn-out looking, and though it looked like pretty good quality, it had not stood the test of years of student abuse. He also noticed there were lots of computers. Where were all the books? Did libraries even have books anymore?

  It had been a while since Colin had been to a library. He immediately felt guilty about that. He didn’t know why, except that the feeling was familiar. Every time he went into a library, it was like the building was saying, Hey, haven’t seen you in a while. You should come here more often. It’s good for you.

  He shook his head. He didn’t like doing things that were good for him.

  “Mr. Rodriguez?”

  He shook off his guilt—since he had nothing to feel guilty about—and looked at the woman in front of him.

  She was younger than she looked in her meme, and, if he was frank, hotter. The meme gave her a vaguely double chin. In real life, her brown hair had a hint of red, and her face looked, well, if not exactly relaxed, at least a lot less like she was taking a dump. Far from being the pudgy book-pusher he was expecting (he felt a mental slap from Steph, which he deserved), there was something strong about her posture, something appealing about her whole bearing. Nothing at all like the Mean Lady Pia had described, the one he was prepared to discharge his Prince Charming arsenal upon in order to defeat the tiny dragon and protect his job.

  So not what he was expecting.

  Maybe this wasn’t her. Maybe this was her more pleasant twin.

  “Hello?” And now she looked annoyed.

  Yup, definitely her.

  “Hi,” he said, shaking off his rudeness and sticking out his hand. “Call me Colin. My dad’s Mr. Rodriguez.”

  She had a firm handshake. He thought she rolled her eyes at him.

  “I’m Melissa.”

  “I know. I recognize you from—” And now she definitely did roll her eyes at him.

  “So what can I do for you?” She didn’t seem vicious or defensive at all, not the way Pia had reported. He hoped it meant she was up for anything.

  Like going along with a cockamamie scheme in order to help him keep his job.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk?” He looked around the library. Busy. He needed to stop being surprised at how different the library was from his preconceived notions of it. If he wasn’t careful, soon he’d be learning a lesson from this experience.

  “Sure, let’s go to my office.”

  Librarians had offices? Colin was smart enough, at least, to keep that observation to himself.

  They stopped by the reference desk where Melissa checked in with the student working there; then they walked through a glass door to the windowed office that Colin should have noticed when he’d walked in.

  “So,” he said, settling into the chair across the desk from her. It was not ergonomically sound. He toughed it out. “My sister, Stephanie, gave me your contact information.. . .”

  “Sure, I remember Steph.”

  “You do?” Steph had just graduated. Not that his sister wasn’t memorable. But Melissa wasn’t even one of her professors, just the librarian.

  The librarian who smiled as she remembered a former student.

  And what do you know, she was pretty.

  This might be easier than he’d thought. Once he got her to agree, of course.

  “She was my first ever student on my first ever desk shift. I remember those reference questions fondly. How is she doing?”

  “Great. She’s working for the city.”

  “Oh, I think I read about that. The new Green Spaces Coordinator?”

  “Assistant Green Spaces Coordinator.”

  “Still. Quite a coup for a recent graduate.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Supportive older brother.”

  “Sorry, yes. I’m very proud.”

  “So. What can I help you with, Steph’s supportive older brother?”

  How was she doing that? How was she making him feel flustered, throwing him off balance? He was the charming one, dammit.

  “I understand that you met with my colleague, Pia.”

  Her face fell. Ah. So there was the Disapproving Librarian.

  “She’s a little green,” Colin said, trying to distance himself from whatever blunders Pia had made. “She’s very good with hashtags.”

  Then she turned the Disapproval on him. “What do you mean, ‘green’?”

  “I mean, she’s young—”

  “Do you have a problem with young people?”

  “No, I—”

  “Or is it just a problem with young women?”

  What? “No—”

  “What is it? Is she trying to take your job? Is she better at it than you are?”

  “Hey, now.”

  “I’m just wondering what she’s done to make you feel so threatened.”

  “Are you kidding me? That kid couldn’t write her way out of a paper bag unless she bought the bag factory.” What was he talking about? Whatever it was, he didn’t seem to be able to stop. “I’ll have you know that if I dislike Pia, it is not because she’s young, or a woman. She earned my dislike strictly on her own merits.”

  “You’re turning red.”

  “Shut up.”

  And . . . he’d just told the woman he was supposed to be charming into a makeover to shut up.

  You still got it, Rodriguez.

  But to his surprise, the librarian smiled.

  She really did have a great smile.

  “Mr. Rodriguez—Colin—let me put you out of your misery. I don’t need a makeover.”

  He took a deep breath. So, this would be a challenge. He loved a challenge. Hell, he secretly wrote a woman’
s advice column in the voice of an old woman.

  “I agree,” he said. “No woman needs a makeover.”

  He thought he saw her eyes soften.

  “I have no problem with the way you look.”

  “So glad you approve.”

  “Let me guess. You hate shopping. . . .”

  “Do I look like I hate shopping?”

  Ack.

  She sighed. “Fine, yes, I hate shopping.”

  “So, great. This is a chance to get some free clothes. Clothes you don’t have to shop for.”

  “You’re gonna let me keep the clothes?”

  He wasn’t actually sure if that was how it worked. “Of course.”

  “Here’s the thing,” she said, and leaned forward. Colin did his American best not to look down her blouse. “I would love to never go shopping again, but what you’re offering is not free clothes. In order to get these clothes, I would have to give up my dignity.”

  “It’s a chance to re-form your image.”

  “That meme is not my image. It’s an image of librarians. If I let you do a story about making me over, then it is about my image.”

  “Yes, but it’s making it over in a good way.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s making it over in a more socially acceptable way, in a way that reinforces the idea that women can be smart and capable and accomplished, but if they look sad and undateable, all of those accomplishments don’t mean shit.”

  “Who said you look undateable?”

  “Really? Would you go out with this?” She held up a bookmark. The bookmark looked back at Colin with disapproval.

  “Heck, yes,” he lied. What guy doesn’t love getting his head bitten off every time he opens his mouth? “Wait, is that what this is about?”

  “What?” she asked, clearly irritated.

  “You hate this meme because it makes you look undateable?”

  “No, I hate this meme because it reduces my existence to a shrewish stereotype.”

  “But you still think you’re undateable.”

  “I don’t think that. I know it.”

  “How?”

  “What do you mean, how? I know because I don’t go on dates.”

  “Do you look at guys like that?” he asked, pointing to the small stack of bookmarks on her desk. Good grief, she had a whole stack of them?

  “I don’t know!”

  She was getting upset. He should back off. But he was also getting an idea. He should pitch it to Clea first. Or he could seize the moment and finally put Pia in her place.

  Chapter Six

  BERNIE WATCHED COLIN RODRIGUEZ and his handsome hands fiddle with his phone while he continued to talk to her. He was hot. There was no sense denying that. She had a thing for broad-shouldered guys with striking green eyes and dark, wavy hair that was just a bit too long. So, she was a straight woman with eyesight. This did not mean she was going to jump at Mr. Handsome’s every whim.

  Especially when he made it clear that his whim was to follow her around and watch her pathetic dating life.

  Not that her dating life was pathetic. In order for it to be pathetic, it would have to exist. But Bernie liked her life. She just didn’t like dating. She liked hanging out with her friends and reading books and the occasional one-night stand with a guy from pub trivia night. All of her needs were being met. Well, she wanted a dog, but that was a dream that would have to wait until she left San Francisco, which she hoped was never. She had a hard enough time finding an apartment she could afford that was not either shared with six other people or the size of a shoebox. She couldn’t afford to be picky about pet policies. Besides, she borrowed her neighbor’s dog frequently enough that little Starr was half Bernie’s. Her neighbors might not think that, but they didn’t have to know.

  Dog needs aside, she was fine. She was great. She was currently being humiliated on the Internet, but that would pass. And it would definitely not pass any faster if she drew extra attention to herself.

  And yet, here she sat, in her hard-earned office, across from the man who was trying to ruin her life. But Colin Rodriguez was handsome, and she liked watching him talk. Not just because he was handsome—those lips were pretty tempting, or they would have been tempting if they weren’t describing her absolute worst nightmare of laying all of her romantic problems bare to the public. He was also fascinating to watch. He couldn’t seem to sit still. He would focus on her eyes, then on his phone, then back to her, then to something on the wall, then the phone. It was like he really just wanted to be looking at his phone, but someone had told him not to do that and he would get a guilty reminder every time he did. Which was interesting, because he did not strike her as the type of person who was easily bossed around. He seemed like a guy who was really used to getting his way.

  Which was part of what gave her a great, sick pleasure in what she was about to tell him.

  “No.”

  Bernie was pretty sure the idea had just come to him while they were talking. When they’d started the conversation, it was clear that Colin wanted the same thing that rude little woman with the fake silver hair wanted: to replace Bernie’s offensively unfashionable wardrobe with something more acceptable to society’s notions of what a woman should look like.

  But now he was talking about helicopter rides to vineyards and flying to L.A. for movie premieres and great relationships with advertisers who were really interested in her story. Now he was talking about dating.

  Thirty dates in thirty days, he told her, siccing that intense gaze on her. She squirmed, but she did not cave.

  Bernie was not most people.

  He raised an eyebrow at her, which she thought he did because it made him look charming. “Don’t you want to hear the rest of the idea?”

  “Let me try finishing it for you,” she said, leaning her elbows on her desk. “I am currently the subject of a humiliating, but not life-ending, meme. You want me to capitalize on that humiliation to quote-unquote combat stereotypes, which really means to just force me out of my comfortable, spinster life so I can be paraded around in front of the state of California and the world and find true love and the patriarchal definition of what is Good For Me.”

  He lowered his eyebrow. “That’s not exactly how I would have said it. . . .”

  “I should apologize for being rude, but I’m not sorry. You’re taking a relatively innocent, definitely temporary, embarrassment and turning it into some kind of desperate cry for help.”

  “Hey, now.”

  “I’m not like that, Mr. Rodriguez. I’m not one of those women who hit thirty and panicked because I wasn’t married. I’m happy. And I know my life doesn’t look like what everyone thinks is supposed to be a happy one, but it is for me. I like my life, and I wouldn’t change a thing.” Which was a lie.

  She would totally get her own dog.

  But still hang out with her neighbor’s dog.

  As she talked—and she did try to stop herself, but she was on a roll and she couldn’t seem to prevent the words from spewing forth—she noticed Colin getting red. It started at his neck, just a mild flush. Then it spread in uneven patches along his face. It was not particularly attractive. She realized she was making him mad.

  She took way too much perverse pleasure in the realization.

  So she kept going.

  “Frankly, the whole thing is insulting and I think you and your whole industry need to take a step back and look at the harm you’re doing to society.”

  “Are you done?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  She sat back, assessed the verbal spewage. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He stood up and walked toward the door. She tried not to look at his butt. But she was a feminist, not a robot. He had a great butt.

  He turned back toward her and she quickly looked down at her keyboard. Totally not looking at your butt, Mr. Patriarchy.

  “You know,” he said, and she braced herself for the I-was-just-trying-to-help speech that usually followed her express
ing any kind of opinion that indicated a man had somehow behaved incorrectly. “This could have been fun.”

  That was not what she was expecting. “But I’m incapable of having fun, right? I’m just a man-hating feminist who can’t take a joke? It’s totally my fault that it’s not funny, right?”

  He shook his head. “You’ve got some really crazy ideas, you know that? Dating is fun. It’s not a plot of the patriarchy. Fun. You could have learned a thing or two.”

  “Oh, and you’re gonna teach me?”

  “Argh!” Colin growled and stomped out of the library.

  Ha, real mature.

  “I showed him,” she said to her empty office.

  That was why she didn’t feel victorious, she thought. Because there was nobody to gloat with.

  Not that she minded being alone.

  She liked it.

  She liked it, dammit.

  * * *

  “Dang, was that a student?”

  Bernie didn’t have to lift her head from her desk to know that Liz was talking about Colin Rodriguez, the very handsome writer who had just left her office after shattering her self-esteem into even tinier pieces than the Internet had. A makeover for the undateable librarian. Great.

  But Liz was her boss, so she lifted her head to see Liz leaning out of the door, presumably to catch a last glimpse of the handsome writer who thought Bernie was the Great Sexless Wonder of the Internet.

  Still, Liz’s leaning was convenient, because it gave Bernie a chance to wipe her eyes, because in addition to being unable to control her face, she had also apparently lost the ability to control her tears. She shouldn’t be crying in front of her boss. Everyone knew you cried in the bathroom at work.

  “Oh, hey, I was kidding.” Liz kicked the door closed and put a coffee mug in front of Bernie. It was full and hot and it made Bernie cry again that her boss was being so nice to her even though she was the worst thing to happen to librarianship since Google.

  “He’s not a student,” Bernie said shakily.

  “Oh. Well. Um, that’s good, right? Because he’s hot, I mean.”

  “He’s a reporter.”

  “Really? What did he want?”

  Bernie held up a Disapproving bookmark.

  “Ech. I tried to talk Dean out of them, but they were already being printed when he showed me. Do you want me to accidentally lose the box he just sent over?”