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Amelia turned back to the new couple and grimaced. “He’s actually really nice. His cat is great.”
Eric and Kayla exchanged a glance, then gave her a polite smile. She left them to maneuver their couch and jogged down the stairs, head spinning.
The restaurant loomed ahead, inside which Ben probably waited. Unless he was late. Should she text him to tell him she was nearly there? Was she being too eager by being on time? But being late was so rude. On Maggie’s wedding day, when Leo was late—
No. No, Amelia wouldn’t think about Leo. Not tonight. Not when she was the new-and-improved version of herself, the version that dated and flirted and smiled coquettishly.
Stomping down the sidewalk, she opened the door and bared her teeth at the hostess, who blinked in response. With a deep breath, Amelia rearranged her face into her best approximation of a smile. “Hi,” she said, “I’m meeting someone? Ben?” Why did her sentences keep coming out as questions?
“Of course,” the hostess said with a professional smile. “Follow me.”
The rapid beat of Amelia’s heart drummed against her ribs. As she kept her gaze on the woman’s swinging ponytail, she reminded herself of all the things Leo had taught her. She just had to be herself—truly. If she felt attraction, all she had to do was let it show. And if all else failed, she could touch Ben’s arm and compliment his shoes.
Ben stood when she approached his table. There was an awkward moment when they looked at each other, unsure of how to greet each other. A hug? A kiss on the cheek? A handshake? A high five?
Deep breath. Emboldened, and determined to make this date a success, Amelia cut the tension and reached over for a half-hug and a cheek kiss. It was moderately awkward, but it was fine. When they sat down across from each other and asked for water from the hostess, Amelia’s nerves settled slightly.
“I’m glad we got to see each other,” Ben told her. “This place is supposed to be great.” He gestured to the menu.
“Oh, it’s all small share plates, is it?” That meant discussing the food and coming to an agreement about what to order, which was good because it was natural conversation, and also awful because what if they didn’t agree on what they wanted to eat?
Stop overthinking.
Amelia studied the menu for a moment, seeing nothing. Her nerves ratcheted tighter and tighter until all she wanted to do was run away.
But she hadn’t gone through a week with Leo St. James and the utterly ridiculous heartbreak that followed just to fail at the first hurdle. She’d kissed him and had sex with him, and it had been good. It had been great! Sure, right now, she had no desire to get physical with Ben. But shewould notrun away from this. Maybe she was awkward and uncomfortable, but she’d been awkward and uncomfortable on her first sales call when she launched her business. This was no different.
Gathering her courage, Amelia glanced under the table. “Oh, different shoes today,” she noted. “I like these ones too.”
Ben beamed. “Thanks! I got them on sale.”
So he’d bought this pair himself. That was encouraging! Amelia asked him where he’d bought the shoes, and the stilted conversation became a little bit smoother. She relaxed, and then the waitress was filling up glasses of water and asking if they wanted to order drinks or appetizers. They laughed about not having even glanced at the menu yet, then began discussing options. Conversation flowed.
This was better than Amelia could have expected. She even worked up the courage to reach over and touch Ben’s hand when he suggested they get the grilled corn, cooing about how much she loved the idea, really laying it on thick. Ben looked pleased.
Then conversation turned to work, and before they knew it, the food was arriving. It was a perfectly pleasant conversation. Amelia even found herself enjoying it. There was no spark, of course, and she found herself comparing Ben the Barista to Leo at every turn—and why was she thinking of him as Ben the Barista now, instead of just Ben?
When the waitress came over to clear two of the small plates they’d finished, Ben peered at her curiously.
“What?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” Ben started.
“But…”
“But I feel like you’re not really sensing any chemistry between us.”
Amelia froze for a moment, then relaxed her shoulders. “Is it that obvious?”
“Not at first,” Ben answered, smiling softly. “But I have the feeling I’m being friend-zoned.”
“Can I just say, I hate it when guys use the word ‘friend zone’ as if it’s some fate worse than death? You should be glad to be my friend!”
Ben laughed. “If you were to call me your friend, I would be glad, Amelia.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not feeling a spark either, are you?”
He shrugged. “Sorry.”
