5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Amy
“So, four men and thirty minutes with each one?” Eliza clarifies, flashing me a wicked grin. “That sounds like fun.”
I prop the phone up on the vanity in the bathroom so I can continue FaceTiming her while I finish getting ready. “It’ll be a little more in-depth than the five-minute speed-dating thing. Maybe it’ll give me a chance to connect with someone. Or at least see who I can really mesh with. Plus, I had to fill out a lot about my interests. Supposedly, they’re going to match us accordingly.”
“Oh! That’s just perfect.” She beams, clapping her hands together. “I love that for you. I can’t wait to hear how it goes—and I expect you to tell me this time,” Eliza adds with a serious look. “I’m not playing, Amy. You better tell me how it went. ”
“Okay, okay,” I say sheepishly. “I was just so disappointed last time—but like I already told you, my coworkers Zach and Nellie made me feel so much better about it.”
“Yeah, there’s always going to be a critic, no matter what it is.” Eliza gives me a reassuring smile. “I’m really excited for you, you know. You’re one of the best people I know, and you deserve your happily ever after.”
I blush. “Thanks, friend. You deserved your happily ever after, too, and honestly, I’m so glad it wasn’t with Devon.”
“Me, too.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Although, if it weren’t for him breaking up with me on the same day I lost my job, I may have never moved to West Falls and met Nick. So, I guess in some ways, I’m grateful for him.”
“That’s a great way to look at it.”
“Yeah! I mean, everything in life happens for a reason. And, of course, hindsight is always twenty-twenty. When I reflect on my relationship with Devon, it feels so obvious that we were never going to work. Like, no matter how in love I thought I was, something just ... felt off. I can’t really even put my finger on it. It’s just like an instinct or gut feeling. It’s easy to be infatuated with someone in the beginning, but once that phase is gone, you have to look at what’s left—and that’s where the real connection is. It’s about seeing the flaws and shortcomings in someone and loving them anyway. People aren’t perfect. You’ve just gotta find someone that you can forgive for not being perfect all the time and love regardless. ”
“Interesting,” I comment. “I guess I have high expectations, then.”
“Well, you should! I mean, yes, everyone has flaws. It’s up to you to make sure their flaws aren’t deal breakers.”
I nod, though I’m not even sure I know what my deal breakers would be. You’d think at twenty-nine I’d have a better grasp on this whole dating thing, but I’ve really not put much thought into it up until this point.
I can put together a killer marketing campaign but couldn’t even tell you the traits I’m looking for in a future husband.
I should probably figure that out...
“That’s good advice, thanks.”
“And it’s okay to be picky, Amy. I love that you always see the best in everyone; it’s a great quality—but it can be a little dangerous, too.” Her smile is sheepish, and I shrug.
“You’re right. I do tend to see the best in people. But I’d say that’s a strong point I have. I can see potential in anyone .”
“Yeah, just don’t fall for the potential,” Eliza says gently. “Or you may end up wasting eight years of your life like I did...”
Before I can say anything to that, I hear a door open in the background on Eliza’s end. Nick steps into the room behind her and kisses the top of her head. He’s a handsome, tall, dark-headed guy—and a real catch. He gives me a wave on the screen, and I wave back.
“Hey, Nick,” I say.
“Hey, Amy. It’s great to see you! ”
Eliza turns her head to him. “She’s getting ready to go to a singles event tonight. And we’re hoping she’ll meet some cool people.”
“Ah, that’s awesome. Well, good luck! And be sure to carry the pepper spray we got you. There are too many weirdos out in the world.”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” I shake my head and then smile. “I’ll let you guys go, though. Have a good evening.”
“You, too,” they both say in unison.
Ugh, to have that kind of chemistry with someone.
I hang up and finish getting ready, opting for a pair of black jeans, booties, and a crimson-colored sweater. It feels edgier than my last look, but I’m hoping it’ll catch someone’s attention this time. Maybe if I look more mysterious, I’ll be more appealing.
It’s worth a shot.
After I finish perfecting my smokey eye and matching lipstick, I grab my peacoat and head out into the evening, arriving at the bar right on time—just like always. I pride myself on my punctuality.
“Name, please,” the hostess at the front says.
“Amy Gibson,” I answer, my foot tapping anxiously against the tile floor. This bar is a lot more upscale than the last, and I suddenly feel underdressed as I note the hostess is wearing a black cocktail dress.
I should’ve done more research into this place.
I nervously follow her to a booth and take a seat.
“So, as most of these go, you’ll stay in this seat and then the men will do the moving,” the hostess explains in a tone that tells me she’s tired of repeating herself. “There’s a list of drinks and small plates that you can pick from. You’ll be responsible for your tab unless someone specifically requests to pay for it.”
“Okay, thank you.” My mouth feels dry as she walks away, my heart pounding in my chest.
When is the first guy going to arrive?
I need some water.
Where can I get a water?
Stop freaking out.
Everything is fine.
“Hello,” a deep voice says from above me.
“Hi,” I squeak as a short, somewhat stout blond man takes a seat across from me. The guy’s got a beard for days and tattoos that cover every inch of his body. Not really my type...
But he might have a great personality.
Never judge a book by its cover.
“So ... you must be Amy,” he says with a sigh, glancing down at the sheet he’s been given.
He looks up at me.
I smile.
He doesn’t.
“That’s me. And who are you?” I ask, really wishing the waiter would show up with some water.
“Garrett.”
“What do you like to do for fun, Garrett?”
“Nothing. ”
I crinkle my nose just as the waiter finally shows up with two glasses of water. “Thank you,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief and gulping it down. As the young man walks away, Garrett stares at me with raised brows.
“Do you always flirt like that with wait staff?”
“I’m sorry?” I feel more confused than ever now. “I was just telling him thanks for the water.”
“It was a joke,” he says, chuckling.
“Right, sorry. I’m just nervous.”
“Is it the tattoos?” He once again looks offended.
“Oh my gosh, no,” I say quickly. “I don’t ... I don’t ever judge anyone based on how they look—not that you look bad. You don’t look bad. You look great. Well, not like if-I-was-trapped-in-a-dark-alley kind of great, but yeah. Edgy. I like edgy.”
Oh my gosh.
I want to facepalm myself.
But all he does is raise a brow. “Interesting.”
And for the next twenty-five minutes, I mindlessly try to come up with something to say, hoping that somehow, someway, Garrett might still ask for my number. I mean, he seems nice, and I’ve been told you should never judge anyone based on how a first date goes...
But the moment the bell rings, he leaves.
And doesn’t even say good night.
Ugh.
I slump back in my seat just as my phone vibrates. I look down at the screen.
Eliza: How was the first one?
Sighing, I text her back.
Me: Horrible. I think he hates me.
I don’t have a chance to read her reply before I’m joined by man number two, and this time, he smiles when he sits down.
“I’m Chris,” he says, extending his hand.
I take it, blushing. “Amy.”
Now this guy is cute. He’s got caramel-colored locks styled in a hipster cut to the side. He looks like a sexy librarian in his glasses and sweater—but one who works out.
Keep it together, Amy.
“So, how was your first date?” he asks, sipping his glass of wine.
“It was rough,” I admit. “We got off on the wrong foot, I think.”
He chuckles, and it rattles my heart in the best way. “Ah, well, good thing I came in to save the day.”
“Absolutely.” I grin, feeling all the things a woman should feel—I think. “So, what do you do for a living, Chris?”
“Well, I prefer not to speak about what I do for a living. I think that we too often place judgments on others based on their careers. No need to do that. I want to know who you are, Amy.”
I blink a few times. Okay, this guy is deep. I like that. “What would you like to know?”
“Well, for starters, what inspires you?”
Uh...
“I suppose I like to take walks and get fresh air.”
“That’s very shallow.” He chuckles. “Not much goin’ on up there, is there?” He points to his head. “Where are you from?”
“Chicago,” I say curtly.
“Makes sense.” He continues to laugh—like something I said is actually funny. “I’ve heard things about the women from Chicago.”
“Really?” I raise my brows. Maybe I shouldn’t discount him yet.
“Yeah, they put out,” he jokes, or at least, I think he’s joking. “Are you like most women from Chicago?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Good, I like that.” He grins. “But I’d love to put the theory to the test.”
“No, thank you.”
“Whatever,” is all he says before pulling out his phone and opening up Tinder. “It’s so hard to find a woman these days who’s willing to hook up with no strings attached.”
And then for the next twenty minutes, I proceed to listen to Chris vent about the lack of promiscuity from the women in New York.
Oh, and I learn that he still lives in his parents’ basement on the Upper West Side.
“Well, if you ever want to have some fun, look me up on Facebook,” he says as the bell chimes.
“Sure,” I mutter.
I let out a sigh of defeat, not sure what to think of the matches so far.
Chin up. I’m only halfway through the night.
For all I know, the one might be on his way to my table right now.
I nearly squeal with excitement at the thought.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” a way too familiar voice says, immediately killing all my excitement. “How the heck did we get matched?”
“Wow, great to see you, too, Parker.” I glare up at him. “Would you like to talk about the promiscuity level of New York women, too?”
He cringes. “No thanks.”
I fold my arms across my chest as he hovers above the chair. “Are you going to at least sit down?”
He sighs. “I guess.” The chair legs screech as he drags it back, and I burst into laughter as everyone in the room turns to look at him. He has no reaction and sits down, completely unfazed. “What?”
“Nothing.” I giggle, shaking my head at him. “How have your dates been going?”
“Horrible, per usual.” Parker taps a finger on the table. “But I’m honestly surprised you haven’t found your one true love yet.”
“I’ll find him, but maybe not tonight,” I say with a shrug. “Regardless, I’m not giving up. I refuse to become a cynic like you are.”
“Wow, I’m so inspired.” He smirks. “That was a jaw-dropping pep talk, Amy .” The way he says my name makes my heart flip-flop in my chest—and I’m pretty sure it’s out of pure irritation .
“One of my coworkers met his fiancée at one of these events.” I tip my chin up as if to challenge his negative views.
“Oh yeah? Well, good for them. Someone won the lottery, too, but I’m still not buying a ticket.”
“Gosh, are you always this negative?”
“Maybe.” He takes a sip of water. “But especially when I’m hungry, so I’m ordering food.”
My stomach growls at the mention. “I think I will, too.”
Parker flags down the waiter and orders nachos. I get mozzarella sticks. Normally, I wouldn’t eat something like that in front of a date...
But Parker is no date.
“I wonder why they put us together?” I muse.
Parker shoves a nacho in his mouth. “No idea, but I doubt you like jazz music.”
I tilt my head. “I do like jazz music, actually.”
“Huh. Wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Parker .”
He chuckles, and then we spend the rest of the date eating our food in silence.
Just as the bell rings, the waiter returns to pick up our empty plates.
“I’ll pick up her tab,” Parker says as he stands to his feet. “Put it on Parker Harris.”
“I can pay for my own food, thanks,” I snap, furrowing my brow.
The waiter looks to Parker for an answer .
“Nah, just put it on my tab. All of it.” He gives me a sly grin. “Good luck, Amy. Maybe the fourth time’s a charm? But I wouldn’t bet on it.”
I’m fuming as he walks away.
I’ll show him.