I’m on my lunch break sitting at the picnic table under the shade tree as I enjoy my peanut butter crackers and coke. I’m a health nut. Can’t you tell?
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I will.”
“Isn’t that against the requirements?”
I roll my eyes. “What are they going to do? Arrest me for not dating?” I snort.
“Nowadays, who knows. Did you meet anyone interesting?”
Boy, did I. Nathan stayed on my mind well into the night until I was able to fall asleep, but I’m not ready to admit that yet. Not to her. She’ll hound me into another date with him. “You know I’m still mad at the two of you for setting me up. I can’t believe you of all people went along with Shyla’s shenanigans. You’re supposed to be Team Brooklyn.”
She laughs loudly. “I am, but as one of your best friends, I believe you need a man to add to your life.”
I roll my eyes although she can’t see it. “I don’t need anything. I’m happy. Why is it so hard for you two to believe that I’m honestly happy being single?”
“Because we both have men who contribute happiness to our lives. You know just as much as I do that having a man in your life is more exciting. I mean, anytime sex. Hello.”
“I can get sex anytime I—”
“Don’t feed me that line of bullshit. Emotions…” she mocks me. “You need them in order for those sexy legs of yours to spread. I respect that you have morals and integrity, but you’re getting older and I want you happy. Forgive me for loving you.”
“You’re forgiven,” I reply. “I’m still young, Aimee. Some women don’t settle down until well into their thirties and nowadays, newsflash, some of those women are having babies.”
My phone alerts me of a notification.
Insta-Dates: You’ve been selected for dates from the following: Aiden #15. Declan #27. Spencer #8. Blake #6. Please respond so we can let the bachelors know.
No Nathan. My heart sinks a bit at the disappointment.
“I’ve been notified that four men have chosen me for a second date.” I take a sip of my coke. “I truly hate the two of you.”
Aimee squeals. “Go on all of them. You might have the best time of your life.”
“Okay, first, Spencer wanted to know if I knew what a trouser snake was. Aiden and Blake? I vaguely remember them.”
“And the fourth? You said there was four. You named three.”
“Declan,” I say. “He was sweet.”
“Then give him a chance. I mean, he’s taking one on you.”
“I hate you and your sense-making abilities,” I snort.
“You love me. Now respond and call me later.”
* * *
I’ve looked at the text from Insta-Dates at least thirty times debating on if I really want to respond and hoping Nathan’s name would magically appear on the list. Fact of the matter, I wish he or even his friend Cody would show up. Those two made me smile the most that night, and Nathan had my stomach dipping.
I’ve tried thinking back on the night to remember Aiden or Blake, but I’m really coming up empty handed. Maybe it has something to do with the setting, but most of the men just didn’t interest me.
After making a roast beef sandwich with a salad on the side, I grab my plate and take it to the couch where I eat and contemplate if I want to respond or not. Then I take a shower where I do my best thinking.
Aimee’s right. What would going on a date hurt? What if Declan sparks my interest in a different setting where we have time to actually get to know one another?
Me: #27
I throw myself back on the couch and when my phone chimes again, my heart slams against my chest.
Insta-Dates: Do we have permission to give the selected dates your phone number? Please respond YES or NO.
Me: YES
Insta-Dates: Thank you for giving us a chance to find your happily ever after. After each date, please go online and rate each date to let us know how we did.
* * *
Today’s my cleaning day since I don’t work on Sundays, and since I live alone and am a mature responsible adult, I don’t need to do it. Instead, I sleep in, cook two eggs, clean that mess up, and catch up on my guilty pleasure—cooking shows.
Fact—I can’t cook. I’d burn down a fire department. When I was growing up, I preferred to help Dad hold down the couch while he watched car shows rather than help Mom in the kitchen. As I’ve gotten older, the microwave has become a great friend.
Unknown: It’s Declan. Brooklyn?
Me: Yes.
Quickly, I store his number into my phone for no other reason than hating to see numbers across my phone instead of names.
Declan: You doing anything today?
He’s straight to the point.
Me: Not really.
Declan: Feel like a late lunch?
Me: Sure. What time?
Declan: Two?
Me: That sounds good to me. Where at?
Declan: Are you in the mood for fancy or burgers?
I like choices.
Me: Burgers sound good to me.
Declan: I know just the spot. :-) Meet me at Slaters.
Me: Great. I’ll be there.
And let the dating begin.
* * *
I didn’t get dolled up for this date. No over the top dress and heels. Nope. Today, I went with “just me.” I’m in a pair of skinny jeans with my favorite white low-cut sneakers and a cute cold shoulder black blouse. My hair is down with light waves and my makeup is naturally on point. I need him to see me for me.
I park my car in the parking lot beside the restaurant and make my way toward the entrance when I spot Declan standing by the door. He turns, looking at me, and then smiles. He’s so good-looking.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.” I beam as he pulls open the door.
The place smells fantastic—burgers and draft beers—with a little rock ‘n’ roll music playing.
After we’re seated, we each order a beer.
“Have you ever eaten here?” he asks, not looking at his menu but setting it down instead.
“Actually, no.”
“Their cowboy burger is the best, but you better not mind getting messy.”
“Will you judge me if I make a mess?”
“As long as you don’t judge me.” His smile is handsome and makes me feel like I’m in good company—a comfortable get-together with an old friend.
I drop my menu on top of his. “That solves it. We’re getting messy.”
Smiling, he picks up his beer. “So what made a beautiful woman like you sign up for Insta-Dates?” he asks over the rim of the bottle before taking a swallow.
“I was set up by my two meddling best friends.”
He rubs his jaw. “Are these two still friends?”
“They’re in the dog house,” I jest. “I know you said you just moved here on our first date. Where from?”
“Virginia. The owners moved the facility here. It only made sense for me to follow.”
“Why’d you sign up for Insta-Dates? You’re good-looking with a popular profession. Why would you need help?”
“Why not?” He folds his arms on the table. “A friend of mine met his fiancée at one of these things a few years ago and I’ve had to endure the story of how they met at least fifty times. Meeting someone outside of racing has been hell, so I decided to give it a shot.”