So here I am.
On a blind date.
In a pod.
In bloody Vegas.
Hoping—praying—the next woman I speak to isn’t too drunk or pitching her OnlyFans in the first five minutes.
So far, the bar is on the floor.
Every woman I’ve spoken to tonight has either been:
Too drunk to form full sentences,
Trying to guess where my accent is from and always guessing incorrectly, or weirdly obsessed with OnlyFans.
I agreed to this as a stupid stunt while a few of my buddies were too busy gambling. But I actually thought I might meet someone interesting. Someone with a voice that made me curious. So far, all I’ve gotten is disappointment…and possibly an airborne disease.
As I prepare for my next date, I take a breath and sit up a little straighter. Maybe this one will be different.
“Forgive me for burping,” she says, the first thing out of the gate.
At least it’s original.
“Don’t mention it,” I reply.
“Too late,” she fires back, punctuated by another burp.
I frown. “What?”
“Why do people say stuff like that? ‘Don’t mention it’—when it’s already been mentioned. It’s like when someone trips and falls, and somebody yells, ‘Be careful!’ Like, no shit, but I’m already down.”
I blink. Okay.
She’s been more engaging in her first thirty seconds than the last three women combined. Definitely interesting. But I can’t tell if this is the alcohol talking or if she’s just…like this.
Please let her be like this.
I like…this.
What might surprise you is, I actually believe in this sort of thing. Not the cameras and the staged confessions, but the idea that love can blindside you. That something real can start in the most unlikely of places, even through a bloody makeshift wall.
I was hopeful, I won’t lie. That optimism took a hit after the lovely Ms. Saint Lucia, the ethical sex worker. But this one with the smart mouth and the sharp wit? She’s got me curious. And that’s not something I say lightly.
I clear my throat and try again. “Hi. I’m Luca.”
She sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“You said that already,” I say, trying to keep it light.
She smiles. I can hear it. “Actually, I saidforgive me.Notsorry, Luca.”
I already like the way my name sounds in her mouth.
“Then I guess it’s my turn to apologize.”
“Guess it is.”
