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    Let's Connect: Let's Connect, #1
    Let's Connect: Let's Connect, #1
    Let's Connect: Let's Connect, #1
    Ebook145 pages1 hour

    Let's Connect: Let's Connect, #1

    By Kelly Jensen

    5/5

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    About this ebook

    A year after his divorce, Daniel Stroman has decided that he's too young to die—or fuse permanently with his couch. But when he downloads the dating app "Let's Connect" and starts dating, his success/fail ratio isn't encouraging until he gets a connection request from Robin.

    Everything about Robin's profile is different, from the bright little bird he's using as an avatar to the long and thoughtful answers he's written for the standard questions. He's witty, funny, and easy to talk to. Robin could be his perfect match. But Robin is holding something back.

    Then again, so is Dan—beginning with the seven-year crush he's carried for his best friend, Trevor. Sadly, except for one brief moment, they've never been single at the same time.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKelly Jensen
    Release dateMay 28, 2021
    ISBN9798201893279
    Let's Connect: Let's Connect, #1
    Author

    Kelly Jensen

    Born in Australia and raised everywhere else, Kelly Jensen now lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter and herd of four cats. After disproving the theory that water only spins counter-clockwise around drains north of the equator, she turned her attention to more productive pursuits such as reading, writing about reading and writing stories of her own.

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      Book preview

      Let's Connect - Kelly Jensen

      About the Book

      A year after his divorce, Daniel Stroman has decided that he's too young to die—or fuse permanently with his couch. But when he downloads the dating app Let's Connect and starts dating, his success/fail ratio isn't encouraging until he gets a connection request from Robin.

      Everything about Robin's profile is different, from the bright little bird he's using as an avatar to the long and thoughtful answers he's written for the standard questions. He's witty, funny, and easy to talk to. Robin could be his perfect match. But Robin is holding something back.

      Then again, so is Dan—beginning with the seven-year crush he’s carried for his best friend, Trevor. Sadly, except for one brief moment, they’ve never been single at the same time.

      Or have they?

      Contents

      About the Book

      > Online Now

      First Date

      Second Date

      Third Date

      Fourth Date

      Fifth Date

      Sixth Date

      Seventh Date

      Eighth Date

      Ninth Date

      Tenth Date

      Eleventh Date

      Last Date

      Beach Date

      Dan’s Curry Recipe

      Dear Reader

      Acknowledgments

      About the Author

      Other Titles by Kelly Jensen

      > Online Now

      Strom

      50-year-old man

      Philadelphia, PA, USA

      Seeking men 45-55 within 20 miles of Philadelphia, PA

      HeartEnvelope

      Story…

      Relationship Status: Divorced

      Have Kids: No

      Want Kids: If they’re yours, sure. Not looking to decant a fresh human at my age.

      Ethnicity: I have the complexion of a mushroom. The inside part.

      Body type: Lean—through no fault of my own. I remember to eat vegetables around about the time they’re plotting escape from the refrigerator. I walk sometimes and call it hiking.

      Height: 5’10" is not short. That’s ONE INCH above the average height of North American men.

      Faith: I’ll respect yours if you respect mine.

      Smoker: Nope.

      Drinker: Not really.

      Favorite…

      Song: Wish You Were Here

      Movie: 2001: A Space Odyssey

      Book: Hyperion

      The most interesting thing about you…

      I’ve always wanted to own a bookstore, so for my thirtieth birthday, I bought one. Not totally spur of the moment. I don’t have that kind of cash. Now that I own a bookstore, I have even less. But being able to inhale the scent of paper every day makes me very happy. What about this makes me interesting? I’m one of the few people I know who is truly satisfied with their choice of career.

      Your desert isle keepers are (you get two):

      A hammock and a good book.

      A perfect date is…

      A myth. No one and nothing is perfect. I’d count any date a success where the conversation doesn’t suck and neither of us gets food poisoning. On a deeper level, though, I think a good date is something like a good book. You’ve read the cover, you’ve got an idea what to expect, and at the end of the night, you feel positive about the whole experience. You’d read that author again. A great date is when you’ve bought the next book before finishing the first.

      First Date

      Dan straightened his tie, pursed his lips, and turned side to side, checking his face for dried toothpaste. All clear. He cupped his hand in front of his mouth. Fresh breath, check. Smooth shave, yep. Hair—

      Damn it.

      Poked himself in the eye? Done.

      Bracing his hands against the marble counter in front of the mirror, Dan waited until the pain in his eye receded to a manageable level. Then he squinted at his reflection again. His left eye, an unremarkable brown, was a little watery. His right eye—also brown—was red and watery. He looked as though he’d smoked a fat doobie before coming into the restaurant. And the hair he’d tried to push away from his face? Still curling across his forehead.

      Carefully, very carefully, he combed the wayward hank of light brown and gray back, and watched, dismayed, as it flopped forward again.

      Hair? Good as it got. Also, the tie looked stupid. He wasn’t at a booksellers’ convention. He had a date. With someone he didn’t know. Someone who had, quite possibly, arrived at the restaurant while Dan lurked in front of the bathroom mirror poking himself in the eye.

      He unknotted the tie and stood there with it slung across his palm, wondering what to do with it. Pocket? His slacks were relatively fitted. His nicest pair. Should he unbutton the collar of his shirt? After slinging the tie over his shoulder, Dan unbuttoned the top two buttons, then a third, and then rebuttoned the third. Paused the playback on his reflection, trying to remember if unbuttoning the third had exposed enough skin to make him blush all over. Was it hot in here?

      He retrieved the tie, wrapped it around his hand, and mopped his forehead with it.

      Oh God. Oh God. Fuck in Heaven. Hallowed whatever. What the actual everything was he doing here? I can’t do this.

      Believe in yourself.

      A toilet flushed. The stall door opened a few seconds later, and a middle-aged man strolled out. He had his head down as he tucked his shirt back into his trousers, and one of the recessed spots lighting the bathroom glanced off of his bald crown. The man looked up and showed Dan a warm smile, and a sense of premonition crept across Dan’s skin.

      Dan? The guy tilted his head, his smile freezing in place.

      Harold?

      Yeah! Harold stuck out a hand and immediately retracted it. Sorry. Let me just... He gestured toward the sinks.

      Dan shuffled to the side, exposing the length of counter that had been holding him up for the past five minutes. The five minutes Harold had been sitting in a bathroom stall listening to Dan argue with himself.

      What had he said out loud?

      Also, seriously? Dan glanced toward the ceiling, blinding himself with another of the lights. This was how his first date in seven years was going to start? In a bathroom, with a suspicious odor wafting out of a recently abandoned stall?

      Harold had managed to move toward the dryers and was busy waving his hands beneath a feeble stream of air. I can’t say as I’ve ever met a date in a bathroom before. Definitely a first.

      Dan’s smile felt as weak as the air from the dryer. Same.

      With a last wave of his hands, Harold extended the right. How do you do?

      Dan accepted the shake, only realizing he had a tie wrapped around his palm as their hands met. Oh, um. I looked up the dress code online and there wasn’t one, so I googled pictures of the place and a lot of people were wearing ties, so I thought I should wear one. Of course, when I got here, I figured out I’d probably been looking at pictures of a Friday night, not a Saturday night and that all the guys wearing ties had probably just finished work, and, well...

      He was still shaking Harold’s hand. Cheeks burning beneath a blush likely as fierce as the red rimming his right eye, Dan yanked his hand back to his side and then shoved it into his pocket. Still wrapped up in his tie. He could feel the bulge. His trousers weren’t made for hand-in-pocket poses. Definitely not designed for hand-wrapped-in-tie-and-shoved-in-pocket poses.

      Fuck.

      He had a better vocabulary. Really, he did. Obviously, he’d left it at Little Volume, his Germantown Avenue bookshop, along with a well-creased copy of Hyperion. It was his fifth time reading it. Never got old. In fact, he’d rather be there reading it now.

      Sorry. Dan cleared his throat. I’m anxious.

      Harold’s smile was generous. The kindness of his face had been a deciding factor in Dan accepting the date. He and Harold hadn’t been chatting for long. Two weeks, if they counted today. And their sporadic exchanges hadn’t lit a fire inside Dan. He hadn’t come out tonight expecting to fall in love. Or even to have sex. But the reality of Harold’s face was... There had to be a more considerate word than disappointing.

      After running through his mental thesaurus, Dan concluded there wasn’t.

      It’s all good, Harold said. I’m a bit anxious as well. He darted a glance toward his recently abandoned stall. As you can probably tell.

      Please let us not discuss his irritable—

      IBS, Harold was saying. I’ve been taking something for it, but it’s not working. Believe me, this is not how I wanted our date to start.

      Dan huffed out a short laugh. Oh, I can imagine. Really? What does your doctor say? Again, really? Who are you and what have you done with Dan?

      This is the third drug I’ve tried, and none of them deal with the spasticity of my colon. We’re going to do more tests.

      That’s great. Just great.

      Oh, well, Um... Good luck with that. It was like talking to a stranger, which felt weird until Dan acknowledged he was talking to a stranger, albeit one he’d spent two weeks chatting with online. Um—use your words—I don’t think this is going to work out.

      Maybe not those words.

      Harold’s face performed a classic fall.

      I’m sorry, Dan hurtled on. It’s me, not you. I don’t think I’m ready. The fact he’d never be ready to stand in a funky cloud discussing spastic colons with anyone aside, he wasn’t ready for this. For face-to-face conversation.

      I see.

      I’m sorry.

      Features twisting somewhere between pain and disappointment, the middle setting an expression Dan would not soon forget, Harold nodded. Okay. It was nice to meet you?

      Likewise. Tucking his chin to his chest, Dan turned for the door. It was time to go, before this got any more awkward or depressing. He should leave. But... Quickly, he turned back. "Thanks for taking a chance on me. I hope your next date

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