“Hi, I’m Rob,” he said in a soft Irish accent. Irish. Oh wow. She had a thing for Irish accents. She swallowed. He wasexactlyher type, if movie-star good looks and a Hollywood smile could be described as a realistic type for anyone.
“Holy mackerel,” she said under her breath.
“Holy mackerel yourself,” he said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
Avery gave Chloe a gentle shove, and she took a step toward Rob, who now extended his hand to shake hers.
“I’m Chloe,” she said, blushing as she took his hand.
“Why don’t I give you two a chance to get to know eachother,” Avery said, as Chloe moved to sit down, glad to have the feel of solid furniture beneath her. Rob walked around to take the second chair, carefully removing his jacket before sitting down. He was wearing a blue suit with a white shirt and gray tie. His whole outfit was impeccably styled, like he’d just stepped off an Italian fashion shoot. Chloe regretted that she was only in jeans and a floral blouse. She pulled her hair out of its clip and tried to fluff up some volume at the top. Then she remembered her hair might smell of chips, so she compromised with a half-up-half-down situation.
Once they were seated, Avery walked over and reached out to take both their wrists. She pressed down on a soft indent at the tops of both their watches, causing the blue square to pulse twice and then turn into a blue heart.
“Now we can track your progress,” Avery explained.
She gave Chloe a long look that Chloe couldn’t interpret. It felt like she was wishing her luck, or maybe she had noticed her taking her hair down and knew what that meant. Avery left briskly, shutting the door behind her.
Chloe turned toward Rob and let out a nervous laugh.
“Well, this is…different,” she said, glancing around at the strange room. “What kind of restaurant has padded walls? Do you think they’re worried we’re going to start throwing food? Or is it to drown out the sound of all the other diners?” She looked around, letting out a short laugh, followed by a brief snort. Why did she only ever snort around ridiculously attractive men? But Rob only smiled, unperturbed by the snorting.
“I don’t think it’s a real restaurant,” he said, and she noticed his lovely Irish lilt again. “I think it’s a date simulation. Maybe we only get to eat if we pass the test.”
“What’s the test?” she asked, leaning forward a little.
“Getting on?” he suggested. “Working out why they matched us?”
“So did you fill in the questionnaire too, then?” she asked.
“I did,” he said, “all forty-two pages.” As he leaned toward her, she noticed how good he smelled, like expensive, spicy cologne and mint soap.Was this really the man she had matched with?
“It felt like there were a lot of questions about air temperature,” Rob added, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“I noticed that too,” she said. “Whether you like to sleep with the window open or closed. Maybe that’s the secret to any great relationship, wanting to be the same temperature at night.”
“Ha,” he laughed. “What were you, open or closed?”
“Open.”
“Me too.”
They grinned at each other. When Rob smiled, his cheeks creased into dimples, and his dark eyes radiated warmth, like the soft flicker of a fireplace on a cold evening. He reminded her of Adam Brody or Paul Mescal, a perfect blend of the two, which was strange, given those were two of the names she’d written on her form. Now that she thought about it, maybe that was why he looked familiar.
In the presence of such physical perfection, Chloe felt suddenly tongue-tied. Dropping her gaze, she looked back at her watch, which now showed a pulsing pink line. Rob’s showed the same. “Look, snap. We’re twinsies,” she said, holding out her wrist. Twinsies? No wonder she was single.
“Twinsies,” he said, eyes brimming with delight, as though this was the most charming thing she could have said. She noticed Rob didn’t fidget or look distracted; he sat still, offering herthe full beam of his attention. She realized how rare this was, and how attractive she found such self-assured poise.
“So, how did you get involved in all this?” Chloe asked, trying not to be intimidated, reminding herself that however attractive he was, he was still only human. But then he moved his hand to push up his white shirtsleeves, and she noticed how toned and tanned his forearms were. She also noticed his hands, firm and strong but with long, elegant fingers—perfect hands, like a piano player’s. Had she mentioned on her form she had a thing about hands? Now, when she looked back at his face, she realized he’d said something, but she’d been distracted.
“Sorry, say that again,” she said, shifting her focus to his face.
“People say it’s the future,” Rob said, looking back at her with unabashed directness. “From what I’ve seen, it feels like they know what they’re doing.” He tugged his lower lip between his teeth, eyes dancing with playful intent. Was he flirting with her? She felt instantly skittish, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “But tell me about you, Chloe. Avery mentioned you were a playwright?”
“Yes, trying to be.”
“I’d love to write, but I don’t think I have the imagination,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sure you do. Everyone has a book in them, or a play—a journal at least.” Chloe twirled a stray curl, then knitted her hands in her lap to stop herself from fidgeting.
