Page 51 of Your Pace Or Mine

“Or he’s on some kind of watch list,” Tess adds. “Like he can’t show his face. Maybe he’s wanted for murder somewhere.”

She needs to cool it with the true crime.

I sigh but play along. “You girls are overreacting. He’s probably hideously scarred and lives in the basement of the opera.”

We turn the corner to run on Mount Pleasant Road as I tell them about our message exchange and how I did some online stalking of local dentists named Jared and found a couple of possible candidates. I may have given him a chance, but I wasn’t born yesterday.

“So are you going to meet this guy in person? See if he has a face or if he shows up in one of those masks from Scream?” Laurel asks after we’ve spent too much time analyzing his sentence structure.

“Sure, if he’s interested. I didn’t want to move too quickly and scare him off, so I didn’t mention it yet. Why not?”

“No reason.” I’m sure if I could see her face, she’d be trying to look nonchalant.

“You mean because she’s in love with Sebastian?” Tess says.

I scoff. “We’re not in love.”

“Right, just boning. A lot. And texting every day. And hanging out.” Laurel sounds like she could keep going, so I cut her off.

“We’re friends. Leave it,” I snap, annoyed, and their chatter stops abruptly. Both of my friends drop the subject and immediately start discussing some baking show.

The conversation floats around me as I try to run off my frustration about the Sebastian commentary. I know Laurel is looking out for me and doesn’t want me to get my heart stomped on by a known casanova, but I wish she’d trust me. I can take care of my own heart.

By the time we finish running, my temper has cooled and we’re back to our normal banter.

“That was a good run, ladies. Want to grab drinks tomorrow?” Tess asks when we’ve arrived at her building.

I agree readily. My evenings are filling up again thanks to getting back on the dating scene, but I can always go for a girls’ night.

“I’ll check with Cal, but probably,” Laurel replies.

I tense up, my stomach clenching. “Since when do you need his permission?” My voice is light, but there’s a hard note behind it. I’m usually the cheerleader friend, but I’m struggling to keep that veneer on lately. Why’s everyone so invested in my personal business but can’t bother to actually make time with me?

I guess that’s not entirely fair since we’re hanging out now, but it’s too late to take back my comment.

Laurel’s face falls and she furrows her brow. “I don’t need his permission. It’s just that we live together, and we try to coordinate our schedules, so I’d prefer to touch base about last minute plans. I’ll let you know.”

Last minute plans used to be one of us sending a message like Drinks in an hour? Get dressed and meet me. A whole day seems like a lot of lead time to let your boyfriend know you might not make it home for dinner. Why is Cal’s availability more important than ours? But what do I know, seeing as I’ve never lived with a guy before.

Tess looks between our two faces, sensing the tension, but doesn’t say anything. “Sure, let me know. I’ll see if Rajani wants to join. We could do a spontaneous Milers girls’ night.”

When I get home, I shower and check my messages to find another photo of Jared’s dogs. He’s got one thing going for him, or rather two because that pair of golden doodles are adorable. I let myself briefly imagine a life where a (faceless) boyfriend and I snuggle with our dogs on the couch, then I go to bed alone.

After a few days, it’s become official. I’m definitely into this Jared guy. We spent half of our Milers girls’ night dissecting his messages with Laurel chiming in and laughing, despite the tension from earlier. Jared and I text every day, and I start to imagine what a date would be like, even though I still don’t know what he looks like. He did send a portrait of him drawn by his four-year-old niece, and it was adorable. Maybe he’s self-conscious about his appearance. He seems very considerate and self-aware in his messages. It’s sad that “writes like a proper adult” is a huge selling point, but unfortunately, that’s the dating pool these days. I start to wonder tentatively if maybe my luck is changing.

After a week of messaging back and forth, I finally work up the courage to touch on an in-person meet-up.

RunnerGrrl92:

So this might be a deeply intrusive question, but do you have a face in person? Or only a slit for a mouth and two dots for eyes like in your niece’s drawing?

GenericUsernameDude:

Indeed. I even have a nose.

I’m hoping her portrayal of your sweet mohawk was accurate though.

Sadly no. Just a boring regular haircut for me, though perhaps I will dye it hot pink one of these days to impress Gemma. She’s a style icon.