Please bring a book and a rose to place on the table so that your match, NATHAN, will be able to spot you easily. We have sent him the same message and encouraged him to wear a red scarf.
Best Wishes & thank you for using Blind Eye Dating!
I REREAD THE MESSAGE for the umpteenth time, letting the same two thoughts run on a loop in my mind. 1) How the hell could two people be a “perfect pair” based on a fifteen-page questionnaire? 2) If we were such a perfect match, why was he already twenty minutes late? (Especially when one of the questions was, “How important is being ‘on time’ to you?” My answer was, “Extremely. I’m never late.”)
Almost every table in the café was full—occupied by couples who were showing too much public affection, women who were gossiping about the latest events in town, and teenagers who were busy compiling their last minute “Wish Tree” lists.
I ordered a second cup of coffee and looked over my outfit again. Per Amy’s suggestion, I was wearing a lacy black dress with matching lingerie set underneath. My dark brown hair was coifed to perfection in long, cascading curls that fell over my left shoulder, and I was wearing red stilettos that complimented my earrings.
I’d spent most of my weekend getting ready for this. In addition to getting my makeup done by one of Cedar Falls’ top artists, I left my bakery early yesterday morning and allowed the junior staff to run it on their own, so I could get my hair curled and styled by a professional. I even used some of my Wish Tree wishes on this, hoping to experience a page straight out of a romance book.
Boy meets girl, boy charms girl, boy gives girl earth-shattering orgasms, and they fall in love.
The bell over the door suddenly rang, and I looked up—catching sight of a man in a navy-blue coat and red scarf. An attractive guy with dirty-blond hair, he looked around the room, and then he waved to a group of guys near the bar.
Ugh.
I watched the door for several more minutes, glancing at the clock as the time hit eight fifteen.
Forty-five minutes?
He wasn’t coming, and I was done waiting. I signaled for the waitress to bring me the check.
As I was standing to my feet, the bell over the door rang, and a chorus of hushed whispers and “Oh my god” gasps filled the room.
I looked over at the guy who was sauntering in, at the dark red scarf draped over his grey coat. He looked around the room, his deep dimples on full display as he smiled a perfect set of pearly whites.
His beautiful blue eyes met mine, and his lips slowly parted as he eyed my dress. He shifted his gaze to the rose and book on my table, and then he took a step back.
“Haven’t we seen him around town before?” The woman at the table across from me whispered to her friend.
“Not that I can remember, but I’ll be sure to fix that if he’s here alone.”
His eyes met mine again, and every brain cell in my mind told me to get up and walk away immediately. From where I was sitting, I could already tell that he was the type of man who was capable of playing the lead role in all my future fantasies, the type of man who could get away with saying, “I want to fuck you right now,” and get any woman to go home with him.
I tried to force my feet to move toward the door, but all I could do was retake my seat.
As he made his way over, the whispers from the surrounding tables continued, culminating in a “Lucky bitch,” once he stopped in front of me.
As if he was right on time, he took a seat and gave me a closer view of his smile.
Damn …
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Nathan. Your name is Christina, correct?”
I didn’t say a word.
“Um, hi.” The waitress stepped in front of our table, and her cheeks flushed bright red. “Can I get you something to drink, sir?”
“I’ll have whatever drink my date is having,” he said.
“Which one would you like?” I asked. “The one I ordered at seven thirty, seven forty-five, or eight o’clock?”
His lips curved into a smirk. “The one she ordered at seven-thirty.”
“Would you like something to eat to go along with that?” the waitress asked.
“No, thank you.”
“Would you like my phone number, then?” she said softly, scrawling her number onto a napkin before walking away.
Nathan took off his coat, revealing a white button-down shirt that clung to his chest muscles in all the right places. He stood up briefly, to adjust his belt, and I caught sight of a barely concealed six-pack.
The other women in the café were still staring at him, and I could tell that he was enjoying every second of their attention.