Chapter 13
COLE
“I’ve had a great idea,” Nathan announces, smiling wider than a Cheshire cat, striding into the boardroom just as I’m packing up my notes from my last meeting of the day.
It’s Friday, and all I want to do is finish up and leave the office for the weekend.
Usually, I work longer hours on a Friday to tie up any loose ends, but my mood is lower today than it was on Monday. I can’t focus; my mind keeps wandering, reminiscing about the best Friday night of my life.
Yes, I’m moping.
Yes, I’m being petty.
Also, yes, I have no idea how Mina managed to get under my skin, but she’s there, lingering long after she left the hotel suite. I don’t just want to know her fears; I want to know what she loves, what she does on the weekend, and all the ordinary moments of her life.
She touched my heart. It was subtle, but she did it without even trying, and now I don’t even want my application to be accepted on that fucking stupid Wildcard app.
What’s the point?
All I want is her.
No one will ever compare.
“Missed Connections ads.” Nathan slams a newspaper down on the boardroom table.
“What about them?” I ask.
He jabs his finger into the paper. “You need to place an advert in the Missed Connections feature of the newspaper.”
My brow hunches together, feeling tighter than normal. “Do people still do that?” Is that a thing?
“Yes. Look.” Nathan lifts the newspaper off the table and flicks it open, then lays it flat open and stabs the section he’s referring to, and sure enough, there are a dozen or more of them.
I cast my eyes over a few, and one catches my attention.
Title: You, in a pink dress, on the BART, Tuesday evening
There you were, and our eyes met somewhere in the Financial District. You stood with one hand on the rail, holding a worn paperback in the other. Dressed in a pink dress, gold sandals, and gold earrings, you had a smile that made it clear you noticed me.
I tried to ignore you, with headphones on, wearing a cream jacket, and I completely lost the courage to say hello.
When the train slowed near Ocean Beach, you got off and briefly looked back.
If this sounds familiar and you remember the guy who almost spoke but held back, I owe you coffee and a real conversation.
Let me know the book you were reading so I can be sure it’s you.
“Do it, Cole.” Nathan stabs the flimsy paper of the local rag. “I can’t stand to look at your miserable face for yet another day; you’re depressing the staff. See you tomorrow for tennis?” Then he leaves, humming to himself, sounding like the happiest man alive.
Smug bastard.
“Yeah, yeah,” I reply absent-mindedly, while reading the other Missed Connections ads.
For the first time all week, I feel a glimmer of optimism.
I’m placing an ad.