Two. I want someone who loves my cat as much as I do.
Three. I want someone who doesn't make fun of me and my quirks.
Four. I want someone who respects that I am a bit of an introvert, but that I also like to talk a lot.
Five. I want someone who won't laugh at my romantic notions and gestures.
The list isn't difficult. My standards aren't even that high. Maybe because I've had such low standards, I've only ever attracted the bottom of the barrel. Let's face it, the bar is pretty much on the ground at this point.
The only memorable quality I could attribute to Trent was the fact that he "wasn't too tall."
I glance at the clock. It's after one a.m., which is way past my bedtime unless I'm hooked on a great book. Luckily, I'm not, and I drift off quickly.
When my alarm goes off a mere six hours later, I start to curse myself for staying up too late, thereby setting me up for failure today. Then, I notice another message on Instagram.
Xavier: Don't become a nun. Their costumes are so drab and everyone looks the same. Be an individual. Be you. Also, sometimes people with low body fat are nice and sometimes they're not. Maybe they're just irritable from so many burpees. Burpees really are the devil.
I laugh. I don't know why he's returning my messages. Maybe I should see if he still wants to meet up. I mean, if he didn't, would he keep replying like he is?
Me: Are you still in town? Wanna grab a cup of coffee or a drink when I get out of work?
Xavier: Ah, sorry. Got a mid-day flight back to Baltimore.
Of course, I missed my chance. I check out his profile again. The owl makes me shudder, so I try to focus on him. He's really quite good-looking. Way, way,wayout of my league. I bet he feels sorry for me, and that's why he's being so nice. I'll probably never hear from him again.
Xavier: Are you coming back down to Baltimore any time soon?
Wait, what? What does he mean by that?
Me: Yeah, no. No real reason to.
His response is immediate.
Xavier: Right. Sorry. Trent the Tosser.
My next response is critical. Like super important. I have to be funny and witty and not say anything to make myself look like a fool.
Me: Are you coming back to Boston any time soon?
Then, the messages go silent. Like dead silent. I pushed my luck. I should have played it cool. Of course, there's nothing cool about me, except the temperature of my sheets, which are flannel with pink horses on them. Like I need any help keeping a man out of my bed.
They were a gift from my brother Aiden, who only seems to give equine-themed gifts. I'm pretty sure his office manager actually does all his shopping because he's always out in a barn somewhere. Either that or he orders them from some horse catalog late at night while waiting for a foal to be born.
But the sad thing is, I love these sheets. They're whimsical and goofy, just like me. I need a man who can appreciate that.
And I bet he's out there. It's just … I have no idea where he is. Obviously, I'm no good at picking for myself. Maybe it's time to let the universe take over and send Mr. Right my way.
If you consider ClikClak the universe, then this is a fool-proof plan.
Chapter 12: Xavier
"You could be in Boston by the new year."
I glance at the calendar. It's already the first week of November. "I highly doubt that. But enlighten me, Tony, as to how you see this happening."
"It's easy. A little paperwork, and a few phone calls. Probably some more paperwork, and then you'll be apartment hunting in Massachusetts."
"I bet it's a bit more than that."
