CHAPTER SIX
I pick out my new pink floral cheeky underwear and matching bra and pull my dress over my head, smoothing it down over my hips. I slide my feet into my gray suede ankle boots to match. I glance in the mirror, happy with my choice.
A feeling of excitement comes over me.
I’m pumped!
I walk into work and see that Ben’s been in to water the plants. There are random spots of dirt on the floor, and my OCD kicks into gear. I take out the broom and sweep it up. When I’m done, I lift my fingers up to grab hold of one of the new small tips that are spiraling from the small trunk of the ponytail palm .
“Hey,” Ben says, strolling in nonchalantly.
Speak of the devil. Or think of the devil? I climb on my stool behind the counter and slurp my smoothie through the reusable straw that tastes like rubber.
“Hey,” I reply, watching him.
Ben is pushing up the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt, revealing his dark, muscular forearms, a glimpse of a dark line from the tattoo hidden beneath showing itself. He leans onto the counter and comes face to face with me. Hmm, he smells like he’s in a rainforest.
Something flickers inside of me. I frown at the thought, confused. Why am I thinking about how good Ben smells, and why can’t I take my eyes off his arms?
I turn to look away and break his stare.
What is going on here?
Maybe it’s this new lingerie and the feelings of spicy that a good wax has recently restored. Maybe I have opened up the sexy, single side of Sofia that’s been closed off. It must be that. Having opened my mind up to the world of dating, I suddenly have super senses and can detect men’s cologne and muscular attributes.
I don’t know, so with that thought, I reach for my phone and turn it on.
As my phone comes to life, it starts beeping like the garbage truck backing up in the back alleyway.
“Someone’s popular,” Ben says in a playful way, raising his eyebrows and looking at me questionably.
“I must have some new emails, or Lucy is going on a rant,” I say, looking down.
I see pink hearts flooding my screen, suddenly aware that these are all notifications from the dating App. I swipe to open my phone because, yes, even in this day and age, I do not have a passcode. I always forget my passwords, and I just can’t chance being locked out of my phone despite the constant warnings from Ben, Lucy, and Briar that my phone will be stolen and my identity taken.
I click on the hot pink heart to open the App.
“Looks like I have some likes,” I say to Ben. I turn my phone to him, and he glances down to look.
“So, you’re going ahead with this dating article, then?” he asks, his deep voice steady.
“Yeah, why not? I’m actually kind of excited to write about something other than weeds,” I say, yawning at the thought of writing one more article about lawnmowers, which reminds me, I have to hand in my last piece this week.
I bring up the notifications tab, and I see that I have thirteen new likes. I click on the first pic. Ben makes his way around the counter and peers over my shoulder casting a shadow over my phone.
“Let me see, I don’t trust the guys on these Apps,” he says. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck, sending shivers through me. I shoot him an annoyed look.
Gamerboy (Marc) 25 years old. Accountant, Pisces, loves sunrises and sunsets, fishing, drinks socially, smokes often, does not want kids.
I look at the giant fish he is holding in his first picture, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and wince. “Um, thank you, next. I want kids someday,” I say and swipe left. Ben sighs behind me. I continue on, ignoring him.
Looking4U (Jeffery) 23 years old, starving artist, Capricorn, loves dogs, has kids, and wants more, 420 friendly.
“Um, I don’t think I am ready to date someone with children,” I say and swipe left again, although taking a mental screenshot of his dreamy blue eyes and naked torso, showing off a tight stomach with that V-thing guys have just below his waistline.
Globetrottie (James) 27 years old, real estate agent, Leo, nature lover, wants kids, drinks socially, doesn’t smoke.
“Oh, he sounds great,” I say and go through the rest of his profile. His pictures vary from being on a mountaintop to drinks on a patio with him smiling, showing off an impressive set of teeth.
6’2”, brown hair, brown eyes, medium build. Hobbies include volleyball, trivia, movies, and hiking.
I swipe right, and a heart suddenly appears over both our profile pictures. Ben sighs again behind me.
“Can you stop?” I say as I continue to scroll through James’ profile.
“I don’t think you should do this,” he says, peering down at the pictures I am scrolling through.
James is… let’s just say James is hot!
“So what happens now?” I ask.
“You can send him a message, or he can send you one,” Ben says as he makes his way back around the counter.
“Have you ever met anyone online?” I ask him, looking up from my phone.
“No, but I have friends who do,” he says.
I don’t remember Ben ever talking about any girls except for Mel. He doesn’t talk about Mel. I guess she broke his heart in college about a year after his parents passed away. I think he’s closed himself off to love. It’s just Ben and his plants.
My phone pings.
You have one new message.
“Oh! I have a message already!” I yelp and jump up off my stool just as two women walk into the bookstore. I put my phone down and greet them, smiling.
“Be careful, Sof,” Ben says before walking out of the store.
I help the ladies who seem to have an obsession with Stephen King as I hear them bicker about which was better: the movie Rose Red or the book. The book, obviously .
* * *
I spend the rest of the morning messaging James between customers and work. He sounds pretty down to earth. We talk about our pet peeves, mine being people who can’t park straight between the yellow lines at the grocery store, and he tells me that he can’t stand people who don’t signal before changing lanes. He talks about his love for traveling and basketball. He tells me that his parents are still together and that he wants to find a girlfriend. Our conversation gets serious about our life goals and dreams.
On paper, he pretty much sounds fantastic.
Ben walks in just after noon, his lunch in his hands. The store is empty right now, so I grab mine from under the counter. I can see Ben has his usual sandwich. I pull out my salad and pour on some lemon and garlic dressing. I stab at the lettuce, my fork picking up way more than I know can fit into my mouth, but I choose to ignore this fact. A large piece of lettuce, which obviously should have been chopped a bit smaller, smacks the sides of my mouth with its oily dressing before making its way in for me to chew. I cover my mouth as this happens, trying to shield Ben from my clumsy eating. He doesn’t seem to care.
“So, how’s that App going?” he asks after swallowing his own large bite of what appears to be an egg salad.
“It’s good. I think I found someone for my first date,” I say, taking another bite. I think about my conversation with James this morning.
Ben leans back in his chair, his expression showing concern. “You know a lot of guys on there are only looking for hook-ups.”
“James isn’t like that,” I say, leaning back in my chair and pulling a chocolate bar from my lunch bag.
Ben’s look of concern grows. “You’ve only been talking to him for a few hours. You can’t possibly know someone in that amount of time.”
I process this for a second. “Look, Ben, I know you don’t agree with me doing this, but I can take care of myself. I get to write about something fun and exciting. Why can’t you just be happy for me?”
“What about your novel?” he asks.
“ What about my novel ?” I push my chair back, standing. I suddenly feel pressured, overwhelmed maybe.
“You want to write a novel, isn’t that your goal? Why don’t you start that?” Ben asks.
Ben is the only one who knows why I haven’t started my novel.
“It’s complicated. You know that,” I say, feeling a warm sensation creeping through my body.
From the time I was a little girl, I loved everything about books. I loved their smell. I loved the feeling of the pages between my fingers. I loved the covers, especially when they had the characters displayed on them. After finishing the entire book, I would study the characters and see if they matched up with who I had created in my head.
After my mom tucked me in each night, I would pull out my book, pull my blankets over my head, and turn on the small flashlight I got for Christmas one year. I loved diving into the make-believe worlds. My mom once took me to a rummage sale, where we found a ton of books, and after that, we spent many Sundays going to flea markets and yard sales. It became a thing we did together. My book collection grew, and so did my love for stories.
As time went on, I loved anything to do with love and romance. I was infatuated, following stories of love blossoming, of two teenagers meeting and choosing each other. And then, as I grew up, more complicated and passionate love stories. Something I longed to have one day, myself. That ultimate love-consumes-you type of love.
The love I saw my parents have as a child before my mom passed away.
I remember my dad grabbing hold of my mom’s hips as she was doing the dishes after supper, pulling her back towards him, and spinning her around on the kitchen floor. I would run to the stereo, put on some music, and dance around them, laughing and smiling. Some of my best memories were moments like that when I felt the love between my parents, and I could see it in the expressions on their faces.
I wanted my first novel to be about that raw, all-consuming love.
After my mother passed away, the love in my dad’s eyes faded.
He was a great dad, even while hurting. We would cry, lying on my bed while he tucked me in at night, remembering her. As time went on, we healed together. He helped me with my homework. He took me shopping for my prom dress. But the dancing in the kitchen stopped. A part of him was gone, and I felt that.
I dived deeper into romance novels, the ones that were written so well you felt your heart ache for the characters. I would speed through the book just to get to the ending, where I could feel some type of relief in my chest. By the time I went to college, I had decided that I wanted to write a love like the one my parents had. I wanted to live a love like that.
But…how does one write about something they have never felt? Maybe that is why I am doing this. I will be writing about love or the possibility of love. This is enough for now.
I snap out of the memories that have flooded my thoughts and put the rest of my lunch away, meeting Ben’s gaze. It feels intense. I feel a spark deep down in my belly.
He leans towards me, across the table, grazing my hand with his fingertips gently. He’s looking at me with intent. Ben has had his own share of loss and understands this, so why is he pushing me to do something I’m not ready for?
I pull my hand away from his soft touch and the butterflies that are starting to build deep inside of me. I will the butterflies to stop fluttering, and my emotions take on a life of their own.
“What about you, Ben? Maybe you should put yourself out there and meet someone. It’s been a long time since Mel,” I blurt out.
Ben turns his head. I can tell I hit a nerve.
He starts busying his hands, packing up his own lunch bag. “I don’t want to waste my time.”
“What does that even mean?”
Ben pushes his chair away from the table and stands. I am about to continue when I hear voices nearing the bookstore. I put my lunch bag away and when I turn around, Ben is gone.
I feel a sadness within me, not sure if it is from reliving the memories of my parents or the fact that Ben just left without saying anything.
* * *
The rest of the day went by quickly. I had an author come in, wanting to drop off some books she had just self-published. I took her contact information and added it to the front display table. We talked about possibly doing a book signing next month.
I unlock the door to my apartment and slide in, kicking off my boots and throwing my coat over my living room chair.
I’m just finishing eating when my phone pings, and a small pink heart appears on the screen.
My heart flutters in a combination of nerves and excitement. I feel like a giddy teenager getting her first good morning text from a boy she likes.
I put my phone down. I don’t want to seem too desperate and answer right away. Although, is it really desperate if you just happen to have your phone next to you? I mean, doesn’t everybody have their phones either in their hands, next to them on the couch, and even, um, while in the bathroom?
I busy myself for about a half hour before I reach for my phone again and open the App.
Damn, he sure is gorgeous.
Globetrottie (James): Hey! How was the rest of your day? :)
Booklover (Sofia): Hi James, my day was good actually. Went by super fast.
Globetrottie (James): That’s good!
I’ve never done this before, and I don’t quite know how to go about this. What do I even say? Before I can think of anything, there is another message from James.
Globetrottie (James): What’s your cat’s name?
Seriously, did he just ask me about Bob? Hmm, points to him on actually reading my profile. Lucy said I’d get a lot of messages based on my pictures and not on my actual profile. She even went on to say I would probably get some racy messages. I laughed when she told me and waved her off, not taking her too seriously.
Booklover (Sofia): His name is Bob. Do you have any pets?
Globetrottie (James): No, I don’t, but I love animals.
This is going well so far. I’m feeling hopeful about James.
Globetrottie (James): What’s your favorite season?
Booklover (Sofia): I think I would have to say spring. I love it when all the snow has melted, and you can see everything coming back to life. The green grass, the flowers blooming, and the days start to get a bit longer. :)
Globetrottie (James): Yeah, I get that. I love the summer, beaches, road trips, and campfires.
Booklover (Sofia): Do you camp often?
Globetrottie (James): I get together with the boys, we camp a few times every summer. We go off-grid. It’s awesome! We have to park and canoe to the sites, no plumbing, no noise - well, we are the noise. Hahaha.
Okay, so I am definitely not an off-grid girl, but that’s okay. Boys need their boy’s time, right?
Booklover (Sofia): Lol, that’s cool.
We spend the next hour chatting; the excitement is growing in my belly. I’m taking a few notes here and there for the article. I have to remember this is work. I mean, so far it’s fun work, but Miriam will be expecting me to report in and write about this.
I learned James has two older brothers. I tell him I’m an only child. We agree we are probably both spoiled, him being the youngest and me being an only child. I don’t tell him that my mother is gone and that my dad is the one who raised me alone. It’s too soon for that. We talk about the trips we have both taken. He has me beat there for sure. I like that he seems to be more outgoing than I am. This could be good for me. I’m not anti-social, but you could say I tend to follow the crowd instead of taking the lead.
Globetrottie (James): Well, I’ve got to log off for now. How do you feel about meeting up Sofia?
Oh, wow. I wasn’t expecting things to move this fast. I mean, I guess it makes sense to meet him. I’m suddenly warm with nerves. Keep it cool, Sof, I tell myself.
Booklover (Sofia): That sounds great!
Globetrottie (James): I’m free on Thursday. How about dinner at The View? You know of it, right?
The View is a restaurant on the water. It’s fairly pricey but worth every penny.
I start to feel anxious. I have to actually go out and meet this random stranger…from the internet. What was I thinking? Now I’m excessively sweating.
Booklover (Sofia): Sure, I know it.
We write back and forth for a few more minutes, confirming the details. Once I’ve signed out of the App, I immediately call Lucy and Briar.
“Guys, I have a date! What do I do ?”