Chapter 3
Biannca
Ichew the inside of my cheek while I wait for a response. At first, I planned to send the message and put the phone away until after work. But the message immediately noted as read and three dots appeared.
My heart slams against my sternum as I try to breathe and calm myself. Who knew finding a date through an app could be so…traumatizing.
That could be an exaggeration, but they way my pulse is fluttering and my mind is telling me to abort mission makes me think it’s a slight one.
Or maybe it’s just that my dating life has been nonexistent for so long I have completely forgotten what it’s like to flirt.
Or even speak to a member of the opposite sex in any way outside of work.
E.J.: Hi there. You’re fine. When is the event?
I resist the urge to slam my palm against my forehead. That information would obviously help.
Biannca: Oh, duh. It’s only a few weeks away. The 29th. A work gala. For the library.
For an educated individual it certainly seems as though I can’t string a proper sentence together.
E.J.: You work for the library?
Biannca: Yes. I’m a librarian.
My shoulders straighten as my back stiffens.
The response could absolutely shatter any possibility of EJ being my date.
I’ve been on my fair share of dates where the guy just couldn’t drop the fact that I’m a librarian and how boring he found that.
Even ones who would say they loved reading, really just were trying to earn some points.
Or possibly did enjoy a good book now and then, but not an avid reader like myself.
When the three dots appear, I pull in a breath and hold it in my lungs.
E.J.: That’s cool.
The breath whooshes out in a puff. My brows knit together. This might be the first time I’ve ever been told that.
Biannca: You really think so?
E.J.: Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I like reading. Hence the book in my photo.
I can’t help the vine of skepticism that coils around me. For years I’ve yearned for someone, anyone in my personal life to be as fanatic about books as I am. The closest I’ve gotten is my coworkers. And they’re wonderful, but the relationships don’t tend to bleed outside of work.
Biannca: Favorite book?
A small test feels necessary.
E.J.: Well that’s just cruel and unusual punishment. Top five? Or maybe most recent five star read?
Biannca: I guess I can accept either.
E.J.: Most recent five star then. Shield of Sparrows by Devney Perry. And I know what you’re thinking; it’s romance. But it’s also fantasy. The world building was great, the fantasy aspect was wonderful, and yeah, the romance was hot.
I’m floored. There’s so much to his answer that is taking me by surprise.
Sure, there are parts of it he could have looked up online or taken directly from a review.
But I said much the same when I read it.
And I devoured it in a weekend, immediately checking when the next book was coming out and pre-ordering it the very second I could.
Biannca: You read romance?
With a wince, I pull the corner of my lip between my teeth. I hope that doesn’t sound judgy. I’m the furthest from judgemental when it comes to books. I firmly believe that everyone should read what they like, no matter what that is.
E.J.: I try to keep an open mind and read across genres. Some aren’t for me, like non-fiction. And I certainly appreciate a good sci-fi or fantasy over a true romance, but I can be amenable to something with good crossover.
Intrigue. It’s the only word to describe what’s fluttering through my veins. And it’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve felt it about a guy. Especially one I’ve never truly met.
While I realize he could be entirely full of shit, and the phrase don’t believe everything you read on the internet rolls through my mind with added weight, some little voice in my head is asking, but what if he’s not full of it?
What if he is a reader, regardless of what genre he does or doesn’t read.
Does it mean this is a match made in heaven? Not by a long shot. But it does have me a little bit more excited and a lot less worried that we’ll have absolutely nothing to talk about at the gala. Hopefully he won’t mind talking literature for a few hours straight.
E.J.: Do you want to meet before the event?
Whatever sense of calm had invaded my body in the past few moments evaporates like a drop of water in the desert.
I know it makes sense. Obviously we need to know who the other person is. But some part of me isn’t sure I can bring myself to do it.
Biannca: Um. Is that typical? I’ve never done something like this before so I’m not really sure the protocol in a situation like this.
E.J.: I’ll be honest, I haven’t really done it myself. But it’s whatever you’d prefer. I want to ensure you’re comfortable in this.
Nerves make me gnaw the corner of my lip again. It’s going to be raw by the time I get home later if I keep this up.
But if we don’t meet, how will we get to know each other? Do we need to? It’s just one date, one night. A few hours max.
E.J.: We could get to know each other through message if that makes you more comfortable.
It’s like he’s reading my mind. And being willing to communicate mostly through message is speaking my love language. There’s a reason I prefer to surround myself with books as opposed to people.
Biannca: If you’re okay with that, I think that’s the route I’d prefer to go. We can coordinate with outfits or something.
E.J.: Tell you what, you wear a red flower in your hair, and I’ll bring a red rose.
My cheeks flame at the thought. A rose? For me? I’m not sure anyone has ever brought me flowers, except my dad for my birthday or a dance recital when I was little. Is this what dating is supposed to be like?
Good grief, have I been missing out all this time? Though, I can’t really say it’s been that much. It’s been a minute since I’ve been on a date so maybe this shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does.
E.J.: We can do something else if you don’t want to do that. It was just an idea.
So lost in my haze of self deprecation about my former dating life, I didn’t even answer EJ. I wouldn’t be surprised if he changed his mind the day of the event because I’m sure he’ll think I’m insane by the time the date actually gets here.
Biannca: Sorry, no, that sounds perfect. Um, I should get back to work. Talk soon.
Before I even get a response, I lock my phone, toss it in my desk drawer and walk far, far away.