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“Thanks, but I’m just warming up.”
“You sure are a cocky little thing, aren’t you?”
“Why is it when a woman is sure about her capabilities, she’s cocky, but when a man is, he’s just…well, a man?”
“Fair point. Won’t hear a peep out of me.” I chuckle, pretending to seal my lips shut.
“Don’t do that. I like hearing you talk.”
“You do?” I choke.
“Yeah. You have this low, gravelly voice that is just… well… really different from anyone else’s. You could be a singer if you wanted.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Are you fucking with me right now?” I ask, thinking this must be a joke of some kind.
“Does it look like I’m fucking with you?” She winks.
Jesus.
Anytime Lottie winks at me, my knees go weak, but hearing her say the wordfuckstops the very air from reaching my lungs.
It’s the loud crack of a bat connecting with a ball that snaps me out of my reverie.
I take a long sip out of my water bottle and just take a moment.
A moment to take her in.
All of her in.
Today, Lottie is wearing some vintage, high-waist jeans with red suspenders and a white long-sleeve shirt. The red bandana pulling her long raven hair off her face matches the color of her lips.
She’s stunning, even when she doesn’t try to be.
“What about you? How did you get into matchmaking?” I hear myself ask, needing to learn every little detail about this enchantress.
“Honestly, it was just luck. Back in college, I had this roommate that was always dating assholes. I mean the worst of the worst. She was always complaining about how she would never find a good guy to date since there weren’t any good guys left, apparently. It broke my heart that this incredible girl was losing faith in love just because of a few rotten apples. So I started to look into the logistics and math of someone finding‘the ever illusive one’ and ended up with my algorithm. It was just happenstance that I found my calling.”
I wait for her to hit the ball before continuing our talk.
“Were you successful then? Did your friend ever find the one?”
“I was.” She smiles proudly. “In fact, she and her husband have been happily married for over three years now. He popped the question the minute she graduated.”
Crack! Another hit.
“What about you?” I ask hesitantly, unsure if I’m ready to hear her gush over her boyfriend. “How did you find your one?”
She grows silent, eyeing the pitching machine instead of me.
Crack!
“We met in high school,” she explains, and I don’t miss how she said it matter-of-factly instead of the gushing way I expected.
“Wow. High school, huh? That’s a long time to be with someone.”
“Hmm.” She thins her lips.
