6. APRIL
APRIL
Nora’s new profile for me was a hit. More people messaged me within the first few hours than in the past two years. I filtered through the typical messages asking for a hookup and focused on the ones with potential.
That left only two guys. One had beautiful eyes and a smolder that would take panties off.
He was way out of my league. The other guy was a dentist. He was cute, older, had a nice facial structure, and dark brown eyes with a playful hint behind them that made me think he would have a good sense of humor.
His profile wasn’t terrible. There were photos of him at baseball games, bonus points for being a Twisters fan.
I grinned, swiping through a few more photos of him in Vegas with a group of guys, some selfies, and one of him with a little girl captioned “my world.” You couldn’t see her face, but she seemed around seven or eight years old.
It had me wondering if I could date a single dad?
Would he expect more than a fake dating situation?
My hands hovered over the keyboard, pausing on messaging him.
I went back to the hot, smoldering guy. His profile was not what I expected.
He had some family photos, some great vacation pics, and some gorgeous houses I could only dream of.
It made sense, since it said he was in construction and lived north of the city.
Maybe I was wrong about him. His message seemed innocent.
“I have a feeling you’re more than what your profile pics suggest? I’d love to chat more if you think we’d be a good match.”
Well, that line freaking worked. He probably used it on all the girls.
Who talks like that? No one I knew. Most of the comments on the pic have been “nice ass,” “I’ll let you play with my balls,” or whatever guys thought got them attention.
Should I message him? A guy like that? He probably had a woman in every city.
Maybe a catfishing situation and he’s using someone else’s pic?
Or you could stop making shit up and see what happens.
“Girl, who is that snack on the screen?” Nora reached over me, yanking the computer from my hands.
“Some guy.”
“And you messaged him back, right?”
Groaning, I covered my face with my hands. “I don’t know. He’s hot. Like deliciously hot, but no.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Guys like him aren’t into curvy redheads with flab instead of abs.”
Nora’s expression narrowed and her eyes turned to ice as she pointed her finger at me. “Don’t you dare do that. You are a fucking prize and if I’m not mistaken, he messaged you first.”
She was right, he did. “Okay, fine,” I conceded. “Let’s message him back.”
She clapped, then stole the computer. I tried to get it but she was quick. When she handed it back, she had already messaged him.
Summer Loving: Hi.
“Oh my god!” My jaw dropped. “You didn’t.”
“Sure did,” Nora waggled her brows. “Picture May’s face when you show up to your Papi’s birthday with him!” She thumbed at the computer screen.
A grin spread across my face. That would be amazing.
“I bet she’d shut her big trap then!” Nora laughed.
Pfft. “Yeah, right. She’d probably accuse me of paying him.”
Nora deflated. “I hate your sister.”
“That’s okay. I have you.” I hugged her.
“You bet your ass you do, and forever, bitch.” We both laughed.
After dinner, I decided to head down to the condo gym.
Working out in the evening had become my place to think.
Or not think, depending on the mood I was in.
There were only two other people working out, so the elliptical was free.
I pulled on my headphones and threw on my workout mix, feeling the energy of the music as I did a quick stretch before stepping onto the machine.
After a couple of minutes, I’d found my rhythm.
It wasn’t long after that the conversations rolled in along with the desperation of finding someone.
Was I going to try to find a date to bring to the party?
Was it ridiculous? Why couldn’t I just let it go and ignore the snide comments I’d get from my sister?
Deep down, I was tired of always being in second place with her.
Part of me hoped I’d hear from the cutie on the screen, but I messaged him an hour ago.
Let’s adjust those expectations, I scolded myself.
Yet, I couldn’t help checking my phone one last time.
I turned the volume up to drown out the small voice asking, what if no one came along?
Thankfully someone had. The next morning, I woke up to a text from the hottie.
And it hadn’t stopped since. Three days of back-and-forth messaging with him had me grinning like an idiot on my way to the stadium.
His name was Alexander. He was thirty, in construction and, man, did that summer tan suit him.
He seemed genuine and sweet and, for some reason, interested in me. We had plans to meet up for dinner after the Twisters game tonight. He had mentioned he was going with his sister and her kids, but was free after.
I’d learned a long time ago that people would use you just to get some free tickets or swag. So, I neglected to mention that I worked for the team and tended to keep it close to the glove until I could trust them. I simply told him I was working and not done until nine, which he was fine with.
I carefully plotted out my evening, ensuring I’d have enough time after the game to get home, shower, and make myself more presentable.
However, since it was me and how my luck was going lately, I never accounted for extra innings!
Of course, we did tonight, of all damn nights.
The ticking clock was driving me insane as I watched each minute stretch into what seemed like hours.
My saving grace was that I knew he was in the stands.
Did I try to spot him? Hell yeah. Did I have any luck? Not even a little.
By the final inning, I was in panic mode about what to wear.
I had agreed to meet him at one of the restaurants in the area.
There was a fantastic British grill that I enjoyed, which was walking distance from the stadium.
Rifling through my bag, I swore up and down that I had brought a cute top to throw on with my denim shorts and a pair of cute wedge sandals, but I couldn’t find it.
All I had was my unattractive work shirt or my sweaty tank I’d worn under it.
Cursing under my breath, I scolded myself for not keeping that change of clothes with me that I always said I would.
The crowd erupted like thunder throughout the stadium.
The whoops and cheers were nothing short of excitement.
My date was all but forgotten as I ran out to watch as Jake nailed a ball and launched it deep into left field, bringing Josh home.
I jumped up and down with the rest of the crew as we watched the boys run into home plate in spectacular fashion to end the game, giving us the 5-3 lead.
God, I loved the high of a win. The crowd. The cheers. The players!
After my obligatory post-game wrap-ups, I’d finished in record time, then opted to wear my tank.
For a split second, I contemplated running to the gift shop to grab a shirt, if nothing else, but it was packed and I’d never get through.
I was already fifteen minutes late for my date.
Glancing at my phone to see if I’d missed a message, I slammed into someone coming out of the locker room.
“Ow. Fu—” I groaned, rubbing the top of my head.
“Ow, April. Where’s the fire?” Josh joked as he rubbed his chin where we connected.
My head throbbed from the impact. Jesus. Did that leave a mark? The sudden vision of me showing up to my date with a bruised head was about to destroy whatever courage I’d mustered not to cancel. “Did you leave a mark? Do I have a bruise?”
He pointed at me. “You? You got me!”
“Your head is hard enough. You’re fine.” I scoffed, still rubbing my head. “Fuck, you’re hard.”
His mouth formed a wide smirk. “Never been an issue before.”
“I meant your head.” His brows shot up. And my now scarlet-colored face was probably edging on a deep shade of purple. “Not what I meant.”
Josh smirked. “I mean, you’re not wrong, for either one.”
Trying to compose myself, I straightened up and brushed him off. “Oh, get your head out of the gutters. Perv.”
He raised his hands. “You said it. I just agreed.”
Ignoring him, I caught a glimpse of his gym bag. “Please tell me you have a shirt in there.”
“A shirt?”
“You know, the thing that covers the torso of your body.”
“I know what a shirt is, April. Why do you want to know if I have one?”
“Because I am desperate and I need one.”
His brows knitted together. “Desperate, huh?”
Yup. Saw that coming. “Help a girl out? I don't have time to go home and I literally have nothing to wear.”
Again, he shot me a grin that showed off his perfect, sparkly teeth. “Nothing to wear might be of interest...”
I swatted at him. “Stop it. I don’t have time for your shenanigans.”
“Where you off to?”
Suddenly, I felt nervous. Was he going to make fun of me? Would he even care? He tapped his fingers on his chin, as if he was waiting for an answer. Reluctantly, I sighed, lowered my voice to a notch above a whisper, and beamed. “I have a date.”
“A date?” He paused. “Tonight?”
“Yes! And I’m late thanks to the extra innings. Good game by the way,” I rushed out, aware of the time it was taking for this conversation to happen.
He gave me a once over; his eyes dropped down to my grease-stained Toronto Twisters t-shirt.
I’d spilled one of the ointments earlier.
I caught the way he lingered on the spot just above my breast where the glaring stain was despite my attempts to remove it.
Annoyed, I pushed past him. “Forget it. Maybe I can see what the gift shop has.”
“How about ten minutes of extra massages.”
Pausing mid-stride, I turned back to him. “Ten minutes?”
“That’s the deal.”
“Fine,” I said, nodding toward his duffel.
He opened his bag, holding up a classic white button down and a navy blue one.
I knew him well enough to know that on game days he always carried a spare.
I snatched the white one. I hated that it smelled great.
His cologne lingered softly despite it having a laundry scent.
It was a toxic mix that sent unnecessary warmth to my lady bits.
Not having any time, I ducked in the bathroom, ripped off my dirty shirt, and squished into his, having to leave a few of the top buttons opened.
I couldn’t quite fit my boobs in. Josh was well built, but my double D’s weren’t getting in this, no matter what I did.
It didn’t fit quite right and it was obvious.
I tied a knot at the side of it. Cinching it tighter, somehow making it smaller and still making my boobs scream, over here. Not bad.
Leaving the bathroom, I noticed Josh was still there. “Thanks.”
“Your tits are going to stretch it out.” He grinned, watching me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you another one.”
“Nah, I think it’s better on you.” He winked.
My face flushed. Was he flirting with me?
I waved him off and raced out the door, not wanting to give his sudden niceness another thought.
Nice Josh was dangerous. I had learned that long ago, when no one was around and the pressure was off.
Josh could be surprisingly sweet and attentive, not that he showed that to many people, but I had caught a rare glimpse and that led to...
Never mind. That was something that never should have happened and certainly not something I needed to be reminded of before my date.
As I practically sprinted to the restaurant, I arrived out of breath and sticky from the humidity.
I glanced at my reflection in the window to see my hair was matted to my head and I had a sheen of sweat across my forehead.
Wonderful. Once inside, the place was jammed.
I already knew not to bother with reservations when it was first come, first serve on game days and weekends.
“Food delivery pick-up is to the right.” The snarky hostess pointed her bony finger to the right when I approached.
“I’m looking for someone.”
Her perfectly sculpted, pencil-thin eyebrow raised as she glanced over my loosely knotted shirt and denim cutoffs. My cheeks heated before my anger flared.
“Don’t judge,” I snapped.
She bit her lip and waved her hand around the room. “Go ahead.”
Before I even attempted to, I raced into the bathroom to see if I could salvage myself.
What a first date this would be. Wetting the top of my hair, I searched in my purse for a clip.
Twisting it back and pulling it up, I brushed the short bangs that wouldn’t go in for a somewhat-done look.
I fanned myself to cool down before I swiped my red lipstick across my lips, then spritzed a tiny bit of travel perfume I always kept in my purse. Much better.
I lapped once around the bar, but there was no sign of Alexander. Checking my phone for the hundredth time, it was 10:15 and there were still no messages. I plopped into an empty seat by the bar and sent one last text.
I’m so sorry, I got out of work late. But I’m here.
Nervously, I set the phone down, hoping and waiting for an answer.
The bartender came over. “Drink?”
I hesitated, wondering if I should order a pre-drink and wait for Alexander. My nerves needed a little something. Fuck it. “Vodka and cranberry. Extra vodka.”
There were still no messages after ten more minutes passed. Shit. Did he think I stood him up? My mind raced, thinking about the messages we had exchanged. The timing. The place. Did I get it right? Maybe he was stuck in traffic downtown?
My stomach grumbled and my ego deflated with each ignored message and passing minute. I sent five messages.
He’d obviously not shown up, or he thought I didn’t and then left. He could’ve at least messaged me to say I’d blown my chance with him or something. That was better than silence. I ordered a plate of wings and another drink to wash them down.
It was time to face it.
I had been stood up.