Peeking down at the display on my phone, the time read 5:37 p.m. Through the huge glass window, headlights of the passing vehicles illuminated the thick, falling snowflakes. They'd changed from light to heavy since I'd been sitting here for fifteen minutes, waiting for him.
I made a note of what I was planning to order from the menu board. My stomach rumbled. That salad I had for lunch wasn't such a great idea. I should have eaten something heartier. Luckily, no one could hear it over the patron chatter and a barista shouting customer names when their orders were ready.
Carol Lynne made me promise to try going on three dates through online dating before I abandoned the idea altogether. The first date was boring because he lied on his profile, and we had nothing in common. The second date, we nicknamed "tarantula Dave" because he was weirdly attached to his pets. Let's just say I faked a migraine and got the heck out of the café.
After a brief text with number three, we agreed to meet here. This one will be the last date I'll be required to go on to fulfill my promise. Thank goodness, because these things were a waste of time as far as I was concerned. Carol Lynne and the rest of my family needed to accept that I didn't want a relationship. I did this to please them. My heart fell as my mind headed down the road that I didn't want it to go down.
I pursed my lips at the night sky and checked my messages to make sure he didn't cancel. I shivered at the blast of cold air on my back as someone opened the door behind me. Maybe I should put on my coat again.
"You, Sarah Stevenson?"
A handsome hoodlum stood before me. He had a crew cut, dirty blond hair, azure eyes, and a sculpted face. He wore a puffy, black winter jacket with a black hoodie that was pulled up.
Something ignited in my heart, like a lit torch, and radiated warmth. That hadn't happened since Jason.
Remembering my manners, I shot out of my seat and extended my hand for a shake. "Yes, that's me. You must be Carter Evans."
His eyes traveled my body from head to toe; his brows wrinkled like he couldn't make sense of me. His handshake was brief. He let go and took a seat.
And just like that, he extinguished the flame.
I remained standing. "Are you going to order anything?" I gestured to the order counter.
"Nah, I'm good."
My brows wrinkled. Was this man planning on watching me eat like a creeper?
"I'm going to order." I flashed him a half-hearted smile, that he didn't deserve out of ingrained politeness.
Someone rushed in front of me as I walked to the counter. I hugged myself, rubbing the sleeve of my black sweater. My knee-length black and white checkered skirt, black stockings, and Mary Jane shoes had not been the wisest choice of clothing to wear in this weather. But I was taking a cab home anyway, so it wasn't nuts. I tucked my long brown hair behind my ear because I felt twitchy.
When it was my turn, I ordered and tapped my phone on the scanner to pay. Wait a minute. Did he have money to pay for food? Was that why he wasn't eating? Then why make a date in the first place?
Moving over to the counter's pickup side, I opened the bag, unwrapped my sandwich, and took a bite. If I finished eating before going back to the table, it wouldn't be so weird.
I was about halfway through the sandwich when the barista called my name. I grabbed it and thanked her while taking a sleeve from the counter to slip around the warm cup.
Carter's seat was empty. I glanced around the café. Did he get up to use the bathroom? I scanned the café. No sign of him. For some reason, my attention was pulled to the street. I barely caught sight of the back of his jacket as he hurried up the block. He stopped by a parked van, opened the driver's side door, turned, and looked right at me. Then he got into his van.
My throat hurt, and everything in me felt heavy.
I trudged over to the table, flopped down, and finished my dinner, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat.
On the bright side, I didn't have to miss any more shows because of these stupid dates. At least I would be safe in my apartment and not out risking my life for a bunch of losers.
Later that night, after eventually making it back to my apartment, all of my favorite shows were over. I got washed up and settled in bed. I texted Carol Lynne.
Sarah Stevenson: Strike three.
Carol Lynne Miller: Oh no. What happened?
Sarah Stevenson: He walked out on me.
Carol Lynne Miller: What?! Why? Did you guys get into a fight?
Sarah Stevenson: No. I guess he didn't like what he saw.
Carol Lynne Miller: What?! You're so pretty, no one would think that! Is he on crack?
Sarah Stevenson: Haha. Ok, we can go with that. Carter the crack up.
Carol Lynne Miller: I'll kill Keith.
Sarah Stevenson: Who's Keith?
Carol Lynne Miller: The hottie guitarist that I've been talking about.
Sarah Stevenson: Wait. What does Keith have to do with any of this?
Carol Lynne Miller: He's Keith's friend. I sometimes see them going into Keith's apartment.
Sarah Stevenson: So you just went up to him and was like, 'hey, you wanna date my friend?'
Carol Lynne Miller: Not exactly. I texted Keith and asked if he knew anyone that would be interested in going out on a date with you. Then I sent him a pic.
My brain spun at this new revelation. It took a second before I could respond.
Sarah Stevenson: Which pic?
Carol Lynne Miller: Us at the New Year's Eve party last month.
Exiting the chat, I opened the photo gallery app, and scrolled and located the picture she was referring to. I wore my black sequinned tank dress and my long brown hair was up in a bun. We were facing each other. I had one leg hiked around Carol Lynne's waist while she kept it there. One of my arms was slung around her shoulders while the other hand held onto a glass of champagne. We were at a New Year's Eve party at her PR friends' apartments, and if my hazy memory serves, we were dancing the tango.
Sarah Stevenson: No wonder he didn't like what he saw. He probably thought we catfished him.
Carol Lynne Miller: That's bullshit, Sarah. Anyone meeting you for the first time could never be disappointed. Whatever was going through his mind had nothing to do with you.
Sarah Stevenson: I'm gonna head off to bed. I'll see you tomorrow.
Carol Lynne Miller: Ok. I'll buy you lunch.
Grabbing the remote from the windowsill next to my bed, I switched on the TV that sat on a chest of drawers. I shoved the weight of the disappointment that snuck into my heart. It was my fault for hoping for a brief second that things might change.
I surfed past the evening news, stopping at a Friends episode where Joey's head was stuck inside a turkey and let it lull me to sleep.
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