Do I wave? Hug? High-five?
I plop down on the bed. “Do not high-five Skye,” I tell myself.
Checking my watch, I see I have fifteen minutes until five o’clock.
Do I need to be early?
My phone vibrates, and I see a text from Skye.
Skye:I’m heading down. See you in a few.
It’s like she can read my mind.
Do Cassie and her surf the same brain wave?
I take one last look at myself before grabbing my bag. I hope Skye doesn’t notice that the confidence I’m feeling is borrowed, because on the inside, I’m completely terrified.
The restaurant is dim without being dark. Golden light is pouring over the white tablecloths, and low music is humming beneath the hushed conversations.
I pause in the entrance, letting my eyes adjust, giving my heartbeat a minute to slow down so I don’t look like I sprinted here.
Don’t look nervous.
Don’t look like this is your first time.
As I scan the room, I smooth my dress and square my shoulders with the borrowed confidence I’m holding onto.
It doesn’t take me long to spot Skye already seated at a table. I’ve only seen her once, but she’s the only person who makes my stomach flip in a way that’s both thrilling and deeply inconvenient.
She’s impossible to miss, even in the dim light. She’s not just sitting; she’s occupying space with a quiet, gravitational pull, like the perfect storm cloud holding its shape. Her skin is a deep, warm brown, like rich earth, crisp against the black of her button-up shirt. Her hair is a cascade of black waves, so dark it has blue highlights where the light catches it.
But it’s her eyes that truly undo me. From across the room, they are a shock of bright, piercing green. Vivid. Scanning the room with a detached coolness and missing nothing.
Skye spots me almost immediately, even though she doesn’t appear to be waiting for me. I suppose she’s smooth like that.
She doesn’t wave or make a big gesture; she simply lifts her chin slightly in my direction. I can’t tell if I’m imagining it, but I swear her expression softens when our eyes meet. Barely, but enough for my pulse to notice as it takes off like a damn racehorse.
I start to walk toward her, trying not to overthink my arms, my stride, or my facial expressions.
Do normal people think about how they’re blinking? Probably not. Knock it off.
When I reach the table, Skye offers me a smile. Warm, but not overwhelming.
“Hi.” I try not to stutter or say anything too crazy.
Don’t word vomit about The Little Mermaid.Cassie’s voice is ringing in my ears.
Skye stands, but her movements aren’t rushed. It seems more like a gesture of respect than anything.
“Hi.”
We stare at each other, and I’m not even uncomfortable about it. I feel like I’m more in shock that this is happening. What is this? I have no idea, but I’m nervous just the same.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like to drink,” she begins as I take my seat and the waiter pushes in my chair, his hand lingering a little too long on my shoulder. I’d almost forgotten that he’d escorted me to the table because the second I found Skye, my feet had a mind of their own.
“Thank you,” I tell the waiter, whom I notice can’t stop staring at my chest. Blaming the culture here isn’t an excuse because he’s obviously American with his lack of accent and the name Cupidon his shirt. I ignore him and turn to Skye. “Whatever you’re drinking is fine with me. I’m an equal opportunity alcoholic.”
My eyes go wide, and Skye barks a laugh that she covers with her hand.
