The Three Date Minimum

Part 3

Dopinder looked confused for a second after typing the address into his GPS. "But Mr. Wade, that's a –"

"Just drive!"

You shifted uncomfortably. What the hell was going on?

Where was Wade taking you?

"You know, Y/N, I feel like I ordered you off of Amazon or something," he commented.

Your eyes met his again, and you tried to bite back a laugh. "Why is that?"

Wade's thoughts went a mile a minute. "Well, it's like something on my Wish List was finally back in stock, you know? And I got that little email alert, and my eyes lit up like a kid on his birthday, so I rushed over in a crappy cab to open your box. Well, not that box, maybe later though I don't want to press my luck. Of course, maybe that's a bad analogy since you seem really nice and Amazon is a corporate nightmare. Also Jeff Bezos is a real dickhead, he could end world hunger six times over but he doesn't, so he deserves to have his nuts put in a blen-"

"We're here!" Dopinder announced.

"Thank god," you muttered, opening up your door and exiting the cab as quickly as possible. When you turned to look at the building you'd been dropped off in front of, your eyes narrowed in question.

"Shoreview Retirement Home," you read out loud, turning to Wade in confusion as he finished paying Dopinder. "Wade, why...why are we at a retirement home?"

His eyes gleamed in the street light. "Oh, it's not just any retirement home, Y/N. This is the home my Nana was at before her untimely passing."

All you could do was follow him up the cement stairs and into the lobby. "But that only leads me to more questions, like, why are we at a retirement home for a date where your Nana used to be?"

The question fell on deaf ears, though, as Wade signed in at the front desk and was almost immediately surrounded by about eight different elderly women in wheelchairs, all reaching for him with big grins on their faces.

So he was popular with the elderly...big deal. It was kind of sweet, right? He clearly had a bond with these ladies, probably from all the time spent when his Nana was still around. It was really sweet that he still volunteered here.

"I don't even volunteer here," Wade called from the center of the granny cyclone. "I just show up to kick some old-timer ass at shuffleboard and eat all their applesauce. Greatest generation my ass!"

"It's pudding night, hot stuff!"

"Watch your hands there, Gladys!"

His hands formed a little heart shape in your direction. "Let's get this party started, shall we?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Okay, Y/N...the secret to being really really good at shuffleboard is to be the disc. Feel its path. Become one with the disc." Wade reached around you and gripped your cue, making you feel incredibly uncomfortable for, oh, about the hundredth time since you arrived. "Here, let me show you in a not-at-all suggestive way."

"I think I got it, Wade."

"Okay, but just watch out, because that Dorothy over there, she's a real competitor. She's won the last five championships here, and I've seen her make some cutthroat moves to get that trophy." He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Isn't that right, Dot, you fucking cheater?"

You tried not to roll your eyes. "I'll keep an eye out for Dorothy."

Taking a turn was nerve-wracking, because not only was Wade up your ass with every move, but the old ladies really did take the game seriously. Once you pushed the disc down the court, you sighed in relief. You'd never wished for an open bar at a retirement home before, but there was a first time for everything.