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Chapter Three
Carol
“Thiswasahorribleidea.”
I stir my drink, messing up the beautiful sunset colors, and take a long sip. It tastes like berries and kiwi and lime, sweet and sour at the same time, like the past few days have been. Sweet because no matter how upset I am, seeing Brian awakened an old part of me, and sour because of…well, everything else.
“You’re not good for me,” the song playing from the speakers says, barely audible among the chatter around us, and I’m starting to wonder if the playlist was made specifically for me.
The entire coffee shop is packed at the moment, but Rose and I have chosen a table at the far corner so that we have a better view outside. The interior is very simple, plain dark green walls and pitch-black tables, but the front of the coffee shop is made entirely of windows, allowing for ample light to come in, and provide a breathtaking view of the park across the street.
“The fake date or talking about Brian again?” Rose asks, genuinely confused. It’s been three days since I saw him at that restaurant, and I just can’t get over it. He hasn’t changed at all, still handsome and sexy, and there was nothing but lust in his eyes when he looked at me.
“When I decided to go the fake date route, I really thought it would be easier to get someone to come on an all-expenses-paid vacation. But I’ve been on more dates these past five days than I’ve been in my entire life. And it’s been one failure after another.”
Where do I start? The old acquaintances, like my date that night? Or the Tinder dates that didn’t show up? Or the friends of friends’ ordeal?
Rose notes the change of subject and sips her drink, scanning the crowd. “You are approaching it all wrong,” she says at last. “You are trying to conflate your goals with romance. It’s either strictly business or getting to know each other and dates in real life.”
“I’m not conflating them.”
“Carol, it’s not in your nature to just walk up to someone and ask for something. You are trying to get to know them as you would do in a real relationship and when they try to connect with you, you get annoyed because you only want them for the wedding. You are not really interested.”
Can’t argue with that. “The point is, what do I do now?”
“We’ll keep trying,” Rose says. She and Dennis have taken this match-making business very seriously. As if on cue, her phone vibrates. Rose looks at the screen and raises both eyebrows. “Dennis says he’s found the perfect match for you.”
“Really? Who?”
“Dunno, but he says he’ll send pictures later.” She puts the phone down. “Maybe he’s the one.”
I snort. What are the odds of that? Dennis is pickier than both Rose and me, but I’d still like to get a look at the guy before Dennis talks to him about me. “Can’t he tell us his name? I can—”
“Already done that, he hasn’t responded.” Rose seems positive about this whole thing but I’m not so sure anymore. Maybe seeing Brian has affected me more than I care to admit. The three dates I’ve been on since that day were impossible to get through.
I place both hands on the table and take a deep breath. There’s no other solution. “I’ll just say my date got sick and he can’t come. Or that I broke up with him. No one’s going to bother me about being single if I’ve just become single,” I say, flashing a desperate smile.
“Love, no one’s going to believe you. You told that lie to get them off your back, not to look pathetic.” Rose purses her lips and swirls the straw around her glass until her drink is a deep fuchsia color.
No, I don’t want that either. Mom has been blasting me with questions about my new boyfriend and I keep giving her vague descriptions—I mean, even I don’t know what he looks like. She’s already calling my bluff.
Rose’s phone vibrates again. “Oh, he says he’s already talked to the guy about the situation, and he said yes.”
“What? Really? What did Dennis tell him?”
“I guess that you need a fake date for a wedding. You know Dennis, he doesn’t beat around the bush.” The phone lights up for a third time. “Finally,” she mutters.
I try to look at her screen, but she pulls the phone away.
“Me first. I’ll give you a rating.” Her grin fades as she looks at the picture.
“That bad, huh? No wonder he agreed just like that.” I grab my bag and look for my wallet. “Rose, let it go, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have lied in the first place.”
“Actually.” She pauses again, her eyes moving from me to the phone screen, to me again. “He’s really—he’s exactly your type.”
I extend my hand, but she doesn’t give me her phone. She uses two fingers to zoom in and examines the photo carefully. I’ve never seen her so confused. “Just keep an open mind, ok?”
“Are you messing with me?” If he’s my type, what’s all the fuss about?
