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You sure you’re okay with The Taqueria?
For the 100th time, definitely. I am down for some tacos and margaritas!
See you soon then beautiful.
Usually dates with a new guy make me nervous as hell, but not Kyle. We talked for weeks before our first date. And we’ve texted and chatted with each other since, leading up to our second date tonight. He doesn’t exactly make my heart flutter, and the short kiss at the end of our first date was definitely underwhelming. But, he’s sweet, compliments me constantly, and he just seems like a good guy. After a long, never-ending string of assholes, a good guy seems like a nice change of pace.
By the time I walk from the subway station to my apartment, I realize that I don’t have enough time to do much more than change and freshen up. Digging through my closet, I quickly find and change into a blush-colored, lacy body suit, a pair of dark, ripped skinny jeans, and a thigh-length black blazer. After taking a quick glance in the mirror, I opt for a pair of black, heeled booties before rushing out the door to the Uber impatiently waiting for me downstairs.
My phone dings from inside my purse as I climb into the backseat of the Uber.
UNKNOWN
You look fucking magnificent.
Figuring it’s a wrong number, I delete the text and drop my phone back into my bag.
Way too good for him.
And I don’t like you dating other men mi reina.
“Mi reina,” I inquisitively read the words out loud.
“My queen?” the driver says, his tone clearly inflicting his level of confusion.
“Sorry,” I sputter, “I was reading.”
I’m sorry but you have the wrong number
No I don’t
Kyle doesn’t deserve to be in the presence of a woman as gorgeous as you
My heart thumps in my chest, I haven’t told anyone Kyle’s name yet. As far as my friends know, he’s just some guy I met on some dating app.
Who is this?
Soon. I’ve been patient. Now it’s your turn.
I recommend you call off this date before someone gets hurt.
I don’t know who this is, but this isn’t funny.
I shove my phone back into my purse as the car pulls up to the curb outside the little Mexican restaurant. While I’m certain it’s just someone playing a prank, I can’t seem to shake the unease from our brief interaction.
“You okay?” Kyle immediately approaches me as I cross the sidewalk. He throws his arm around my shoulder and places a dry peck on my cheek. As he pulls away, I feel my phone buzz through my purse. “You don’t look okay.”
“Just a long day,” I lie, “First day at my new position. Probably just need a margarita to unwind a little.”
“Say no more,” he opens the door, and we are promptly led to our table by the hostess. We are seated at a small table, and he takes the seat next to me. The moment the waiter approaches, he orders two margarita flights. My phone buzzes again, and I briefly apologize before pulling it from my purse.
His lips don’t deserve to touch an inch of your perfect skin
Make sure he knows it doesn’t happen again
“Just work,” I lie to Kyle again before placing the phone on the table. It should go back in my bag. I should ignore whoever it is on the other end, but against my better judgment I am intrigued.
Dinner and drinks are relatively uneventful. The conversation is dull, excluding an occasional dad joke or compliment from Kyle. My eyes repeatedly dart to my phone, waiting for another message. Kyle ramps up his compliments and attempts at sweet talk as he places his hand on my thigh, “We shouldn’t wait a week to do this again.”
