Chapter 11
I’m about to commit murder, and Chloe is going to be my victim. “What have you done?” I bark.
She shrugs, taking a sip of her lemonade; not affected by my anger one bit. “I set you up on a date,” she replies calmly and then tosses a cookie into her mouth, chewing loudly.
I heard her the first time that she said it, but I’m just wondering why she would pull one like that without asking me first.
“Why would you do a thing like that? Did I tell you that I wanted to do that?” I push the plate of cookies away from her reach before she gets the chance to take another.
It’s Saturday and I’m off work. I was planning on spending the weekend eating and sleeping until Chloe barged in a few minutes ago. She announced that she had set me up with some guy, and it was tonight.
“You didn’t have to say it. I just knew. That’s what friends are for, right?”
“No! Friends don’t go about setting their friends up for a blind date without their permission. Why would you even think that I need one?”
“Because you’ve been miserable trying to forget about your hot boss. So I decided, what other way to get over a hot guy than going out with another hot guy?”
I let out a frustrated breath, resisting the urge to scream at her. “I’m not going on whatever date you’ve set up.”
She jumps off my kitchen stool and follows me as I walk over to my living room. “You haven’t even seen the guy,” she protests.
“I don’t care what he looks like. I’m not interested.”
“No, no, no.” She quickly comes and sits on the arm of my couch, placing her arm around my shoulders. I shrug it off, but she places it back.
“You need to see Tom first, before you decide that you are not going to meet him. He’s good-looking and rich.”
“I don’t care if he’s Prince Harry. I’m not going.”
“Oh, come on, Jessy, don’t be like that. I’m only trying to help you.” She fishes out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and opens it. “Just wait until you see his picture.”
I scoff, reaching for the TV remote to turn it on. I plan on watching a movie with a bowl of popcorn and some ice cream—and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
“Here,” she says, handing me her phone, and when I take it, I’m faced with a cute-looking guy. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” she asks.
The guy on Chloe’s screen is undeniably attractive. He has a rugged charm about him, with tousled brown hair that falls effortlessly across his forehead.
“He’s good-looking, right?” she repeats.
“Yeah, he is, but I’m still not going on the date.” I hand her back her phone and return my attention to the TV as I surf through the channels.
“Oh, come on, don’t be like this, Jessy, okay? I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about this date, but I’m just trying to help you. Even though you try to hide it, I know you are frustrated about this whole situation with your boss. I’m only trying to help you forget him.”
She’s right about that. Even though Amy convinced me that Ethan is her brother and not boyfriend, she said that he might have a thing for me. I still know that we both can’t be together.
I don’t want to set myself up for heartbreak by thinking that we can end up together. Men like him are not the commitment type, and I don’t want to only be the girl of the moment. You don’t do flings with someone that you have feelings for. And I definitely have feelings for Ethan.
It’s the reason I’ve been trying really hard to avoid him and get him out of my system.
“Why don’t you just go on this one date, and if you don’t like him, you don’t have to see him again. But I think you should just give it a try. There’s no harm in trying.” She’s still holding out her phone with the guy’s picture on her screen.
As I study him, I can’t help but feel a flutter of curiosity. He’s not exactly my type, but there’s something undeniably appealing about him. Maybe Chloe is right—maybe going on a date with him wouldn’t be the worst idea after all.
“What’s his name again?”
“Tom. He’s a sports photographer.”
“Hmm, not bad. Where did you meet him?”
Chloe swallows hard, looking away, scratching the back of her neck.
“Chloe? Where do you know that guy from?”
“Er…Tinder.”
“What? I thought you deleted your account after you and your boyfriend started dating?”
“Yeah, but I had to reinstall it and set up an account to help you get one of your own.”
“Oh my God, it keeps getting worse. Of all places you chose a dating app?”
“I know, I know, but I vetted this guy, and I made sure to set up a date for you two at a busy restaurant, so…”
“I’m not going. You and I know that guys from that app are never serious—none of my Tinder dates turned out well.’’
“Oh, come on, have a little faith. Besides, I met my Mark on there, and he has turned out to be a very loving guy.”
I’m silent for a moment as I contemplate going on this date. “Fine, I’m only going on this date because of how much effort you’ve put into this, even though I didn’t ask you to.’’
Chloe throws her arms up in excitement. “That”s the spirit! Now, we have to look for something beautiful for you to wear.”
“I can do that later.” I curl up into a ball on my couch, already regretting my decision to do this.
“No, there’s no time. We have to find you a dress and then there’s your hair…”
I let out a groan as Chloe lists out all the things that we need to do before my almighty date. I hope I don’t come to regret this.
By some minutes past seven,I walk into the prestigious restaurant, my heart pounding with nerves. Chloe had insisted that I give this guy a chance, so here I am, reluctantly stepping into the unknown.
A waitress greets me with a warm smile and leads me to the table that was reserved for us. It’s a cozy corner booth, dimly lit by flickering candles, with a view overlooking the city skyline. It’s undeniably romantic, but I can’t help feeling out of place.
As I settle into my seat, I glance around the restaurant, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my date. Minutes tick by, turning into what feels like an eternity as I fidget nervously with the napkin in my lap.
I check my phone for the umpteenth time, wondering if maybe he’s running late or got lost on his way here. But there are no messages, no missed calls—just silence.
“He’s going to be there with you soon,” Chloe had said the last time that I called to tell her about his tardiness.
My patience wears thin as I consider leaving. After all, waiting around for someone who can’t even be bothered to show up on time isn’t exactly my idea of a fun evening.
Just as I’m about to flag down the waiter and make my escape, I catch sight of a familiar figure striding through the restaurant doors. It’s him—my date.
Relief washes over me as he approaches the table, a sheepish smile on his face. He apologizes profusely for being late, explaining that he got caught up in a work emergency.
I force a smile, trying to hide my irritation as I wave off his excuses. Deep down, though, I can’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment. After all, punctuality is a sign of respect, and he’s already starting off on the wrong foot.
But as he takes his seat across from me, offering a sincere apology and flashing me a charming grin, I find myself softening. Maybe Chloe was right—maybe this date won’t be such a disaster after all.
“Sorry again for keeping you waiting,” he says, with a smile that almost makes up for his tardiness.
I nod, trying to maintain a polite demeanor despite my growing impatience. “No worries,” I reply, forcing a smile of my own. “These things happen.”
As we settle into our seats, the waiter approaches, ready to take our orders. I glance at the menu, scanning the options, but before I can even open my mouth to speak, Tom jumps in.
“I’ll have the steak, medium rare, with a side of mashed potatoes,” he says confidently.
“And the lady will have the same,” he states, giving the server a charming smile, not even bothering to look at me.
I clear my throat to assert myself. “Actually, I was thinking of trying the salmon,” I interject, but he doesn’t seem to hear me.
My eyes widen in surprise, but before I can protest, the waiter scribbles down Tom’s order and disappears into the kitchen.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Tom says, turning his attention back to me. “I just know that you’ll love the steak here. It’s their specialty.”
I force a polite smile, but inside, I’m seething. Who does this guy think he is, ordering for me without even asking what I want? But I decided to let it go, not wanting to cause a scene on what is supposed to be a pleasant evening.
As we wait for our food to arrive, he starts talking—about his job, his accomplishments, the prestigious clients he works with.
He’s a talker, that’s for sure, and I find myself struggling to get a word in edgewise as he regales me with stories of his glamorous career.
Every time I try to participate, steer the conversation in a different direction, or share a tidbit about me, he interrupts me, eager to keep the spotlight on himself.
“So, Jessica,” he says, finally pausing for a breath. “What do you do for a living?”
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can utter a single word, he launches into another monologue about his latest business venture.
I sigh inwardly, resigning myself to the fact that this date is going to be a one-sided conversation. As he goes on with the monologue, I find my mind drifting, tuning out his words, and I focus on the delicious food in front of me.
Maybe Chloe meant well, but this is definitely not my idea of a good time. I’m so going to kill her for setting this up.
As Tom continues to talk incessantly about his job, oblivious to my attempts to engage in the conversation, I feel a growing sense of frustration bubbling up inside me.
This is not how I envisioned spending my evening—trapped in a one-sided dialogue with a guy who seems more interested in hearing himself speak than getting to know me.
I glance around the restaurant, desperate for an escape route, when suddenly, inspiration strikes. With a sudden burst of determination, I sit up straight in my chair, feigning urgency.
“Oh my goodness,” I exclaimed, placing a hand over my heart and giving Tom a wide-eyed look. “I have to leave right away. It’s an emergency.”
Tom’s expression shifts from confusion to concern, and he reaches out a hand to stop me. “Wait, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
I shake my head, trying to look as panicked as possible. “I’m so sorry. I really have to go. It’s a family emergency,” I lie, hoping he’ll buy my excuse.
Before he can protest further, I push my chair back, grab my purse, and leap to my feet, practically sprinting towards the exit. I can feel Tom’s eyes on me as I make a beeline for the door, but I don’t stop to look back.
Once outside the restaurant, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and I take a moment to collect myself. I can’t believe I just pulled off such a dramatic exit, but right now, I don’t care.
All I want is to put as much distance between me and that excruciatingly awkward date as possible. But as I reach into my purse to grab my phone and call for a cab, a sinking feeling washes over me when I realize that my battery is dangerously low.
Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I glance around the bustling street, searching for any sign of a taxi. But the roads are packed with cars and pedestrians, and there’s not a cab in sight.
Panic starts to rise within me as I frantically search through my bag, hoping against hope that my power bank is in it. But I find nothing—my phone is on the verge of dying, leaving me stranded in the middle of the city with no way to call for a ride home.