To the Guy Who Got The Girl
Well, as we had all established, I was having a ‘date’ with Blake—a deep, frustrated exhale escaped me—and so far it had been pretty perfect. But there was one tiny problem. While I relived all the amazing moments I had previously shared with Miles, this…this wasn’t Miles.
Blake pretty much stuck to the plan without deviation.
He took me to the beach, where the sunset sky glowed with its most beautiful colours.
Miles’ words echoed in my head: You know, sunset and all.
Very romantic. Blake played my favourite band and, yes, I did say it was my favourite band just to see the utterly delighted expression on his face.
He fetched us some wine and told me a story.
It wasn’t a very funny one, or maybe I just wasn’t in the mood to laugh.
So I offered him a chuckle. Then, precisely as instructed, he told me I had a beautiful smile.
And of course Blake was charming as always, but when we got to the point where my smile ‘ felt like a beautiful sunny day ,’ a surprised laugh erupted from me.
Was he really going to repeat every single word Miles said?
And before the next move, which was supposed to be me glancing at his lips so that Blake, like in one of those swoony romance movies, would sweep me off my feet and fearlessly kiss me on my mouth, I suddenly found myself blurting, “I like someone else.”
Quite stunned by what I had just said and, frankly, pretty surprised at admitting it not only to myself but out loud, in front of another person, I felt my stomach coil with an unexpected but thrilling sensation.
I wasn’t scared or terrified. I was… relieved ?
As if saying it, finally accepting the truth, was a liberating moment that brought me clarity and filled me with joy.
It was as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and, shit—my heart raced in my chest— what was I to do with this now?
“You do?” Blake breathed in a question.
I nodded slightly at him. “I’m sorry. I really am.
I should have told you sooner, except…that it’s something I realised, well—” My gaze fell onto the glass of wine in my hand.
“—a little too late. Um…” I glanced back at him.
“I think you are a wonderful guy, and thank you for all of this. But there is just…” I trailed off, unable to finish that sentence.
“Someone else,” Blake muttered, his voice soft, barely a whisper against the crashing waves. He looked out to sea then into the horizon, the sky slowly darkening above us.
“Blake,” I said softly, “this, the date—” I finally said the damn word as if I meant it. “—was perfect.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled against the cool salty breeze. “It could have been. But,” he let a sigh of resignation escape him, “it is what it is.”
“I’m sorry,” I breathed, unsure what to do next. Leave or stay? But suddenly, Blake reached for the bottle.
“So, I didn’t get the girl. Big deal,” he said with a bitter smile, but a smile nonetheless, then he poured us some more wine. “Here’s to the guy who did!”
***
“Does this guy know you like him?” Blake asked me as we walked towards the house.
“Um—” Recalling this morning’s bathroom encounter with Miles, I came to realise that… “—I think he does.” I just didn’t have the courage to say it. “I think he knew it before I knew it.”
“And you realised that…on our date?” Blake muttered, the irony of his words making him wince. “Wow, that must have truly been a blast for you.”
“Oh, God.” My face momentarily tensed. “That sounds so awful!” I quickly covered my mouth with my hand then, as we looked at each other, we both surprisingly laughed. “Ugh, well done, Florence.” I rolled my eyes. “That was so mean of me.”
“Don’t worry, darling. I’m a big boy.”
As we walked through the garden, the sensor light flickered on, illuminating our path to the back door.
“Florence?” Blake’s voice was soft.
“Yes?”
“God, I wish that was me,” he paused, then added with a wry chuckle, “but if you ever change your mind…?” He winked at me, making me let out a short laugh. “He better know how lucky he is.”
“Oh, Blake,” I muttered, letting a small smile tug at my lips.
“Are you gonna tell him?”
I tilted my head with a sigh, a few stars shimmering above us in the sky. “Um…let’s just say that’s easier said than done.”
“You know,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, “sometimes we make things more complicated than they need to be. Life is a series of choices that you make because you want to, not because anyone else thinks you should. Or shouldn’t.
” Did he by any chance mean my mother? “Because fuck them. It’s your life and only you get to decide how to live it, even if at times it may seem like that control is slipping away from you.
But in the end, it’s all up to you. It is always your choice. ”
As I glanced at him, I caught Blake’s gaze lingering on my scar.
Self-consciously, I ran my fingers along my jawline, remembering his words about seeing people as flaws to be improved or fixed.
But then, surprisingly, Blake smiled, stepped closer, and gently kissed me on my temple.
The unexpected gesture sent a warmth through me.
Perhaps, he didn’t see me that way—damaged—but as someone real with their own vulnerabilities.
A whole person who just needed to be reminded that she was capable of writing her own story—a story that, even with its imperfections, would be authentically mine.
Free from the weight of anyone else’s expectations. It would be…simply mine.
“Good night, Florence,” he breathed. “Thank you for being honest with me.”