Why can’t text messages be deleted the next day?
It’s a feature I believe would be well accepted by the majority of the population.
The cell phone companies could call it the gaslight feature. I know it would cost extra. I’d be willing to pay.
A simple message would replace the one that was deleted.
“NO MESSAGE WAS EVER HERE. IT WAS YOUR IMAGINATION. GO BACK TO SLEEP AND STOP TEXTING.”
I smile as I consider the possibilities of this new feature. That is, until I recall my message that I can’t take back. Once there, my mind returns to his ass and thighs, and I’m a little frightened that he might bring it up. I think the answer is clear: the combination of martinis, wine, and text messages is never a good idea.
The warm spring air fluffs my skirt as I step from the taxi onto the street. Looking all around, I see the Queensboro Bridge within sight and am reminded once again about my love for the city. Despite the time of day, there’s already a line forming at the restaurant, and I hesitate to send a text, asking if Trevor is inside.
If I do and he didn’t see the other one, I’m caught.
Instead of thinking any more about the texts, I look up at the Serendipity 3 storefront.
I can’t really believe this is my first time here. Even though I’ve never visited the restaurant, of course, I’ve watched the movie. It’s what I immediately think about as the gentle breeze blows my hair and I take it all in.
In the movie Serendipity, Jonathan and Sara have a chance meeting at Bloomingdale’s.
Glancing down the street in the opposite direction of the bridge, the sight of the famous store makes me smile. The setting and scene really are as they were portrayed.
In the movie, the time between Jonathan and Sara’s first meeting to their second is ten years. The first was a chance meeting brought on at Bloomingdale’s over a pair of gloves. Trevor’s and my first meeting was at a piano bar by a fire pit. It was brought on by us both being in Indianapolis for a wedding, the same wedding, which took us a little while to figure out.
Momentarily, I recall last night, in the hallway of the bar. The way he followed me. The dark hallway. His kiss. The tips of my fingers go to my lips, the phantom feeling is fleeting as my heartbeat quickens. Ten years may be good for a movie. For me, in real life, one year has been long enough.
Taking a deep breath, I step past the line and say a prayer that Trevor is already inside. I guess the only way to see if Serendipity is real is to test it.
“Excuse me,” I say as I make my way toward the hostess stand.
The decorations within make me smile. They are exceedingly girly, bright, fun, and over-the-top. Tiffany lamps litter the ceiling in an array of colors and styles. The tables are close together and all seem to be occupied.
“Do you have a reservation?” the girl at the stand asks.
“I’m supposed to meet someone here,” I say to the hostess.
After asking my name and the name of my party, the young girl leads me a few feet to a hidden corner with a small round table occupied by a man who seems too large for the scene. All at once, my entire body warms.
It’s him.
In the split second before he notices me, I’m both amused and attracted. Though he’s relaxed and talking on the phone, his presence here seems completely out of character. I can’t help but wonder why he chose this restaurant. And then it happens.
His vibrant green eyes meet mine as the tips of his lips move upward and he stands. Almost immediately, he ducks as his height nearly collides with one of the lamps.
Damn, Trevor Willis is sexy surrounded by garish colorful lights. That’s not something just any man could pull off. As I get closer, his stare fills me with something new. The butterfly wings in my tummy come to flight. It’s as if he’s lost sight of the rest of the world. It’s as if his entire being is standing and seeing only me. I hope I’m right because at that moment I feel the same way. The bright decorations could fall and the chandeliers could crash to the floor, and it wouldn’t matter because we’re seeing one another.
I can’t take my eyes off of him. His shirt pulls tightly over his broad chest. There’s a casual sport coat draped from his broad shoulders, and it takes all of my control not to stare at his trim waist and perfectly worn blue jeans. I recall with vivid detail the way he pushed me against the wall in the hallway. My insides twist recalling the way his hardness pressed toward me.
I move my gaze upward and smile at his sexy, messy hair. I’ve seen Trevor Willis dressed up for the night or a wedding, and I’ve seen him when he first wakes, with basketball shorts and his thick thighs. No matter the occasion, his hair is definitely something I adore. It always seems out of place, as if it’s in need of my fingers to comb it away from his stunning green eyes.
“You made it,” he says happily as he ducks under the lamps and pulls the chair out for me.
“I’m not late? Am I?”
“No, I’m just anxious,” he says with all honesty as he pushes in my chair and gives me a kiss on the cheek. It’s romantic and chivalrous and reminds me how a gentleman is supposed to treat a lady.
While some may find it old-fashioned, I like it.
That’s how our first official date begins, with niceties and gestures, with simple conversation that flows too easily yet is capable of tying my stomach into knots. Everything about Trevor Willis is sweet, sexy, and funny.
We are too interested in one another to even look at the giant menu. Finally, after the waitress leaves for the second time, we both decide we need to take a look.
“We have to get the frozen hot chocolate,” I say, finally peering at the scrumptious-looking pictures. “I saw a few on my walk back to the table. They look amazing.”
“Frozen hot chocolate with two straws,” Trevor tells our waitress when she returns for the third time.
Once she’s gone, I turn to him. “I’m a little surprised this is where you wanted to meet.” I gesture about. “It’s a little...small. I almost feel like you don’t fit.”
He chuckles. “It is a little smaller than I expected. But don’t you like it?”
“I do.”
“The real question is...do you believe in serendipity?”
My grin grows. “I was just thinking about that same question when I arrived and the taxi dropped me off.”
“You were?”
“Have you seen the movie?” I ask.
“There’s a movie?”
I giggle, shaking my head.
Men.
“Yes,” I say. “Oh my gosh, you wanted to come here even though you haven’t seen the movie?”
He shakes his head.
“Then what made you think of here?”
“You.”
“Me?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Why me?”
“The morning of Duncan and Kimbra’s wedding, I ordered us coffee and you told me you like hot chocolate.”
My mouth opens, but it takes a minute before words come out. “What?”
“Now, don’t tell me that was still the Fireball talking. I mean, I hope I’m not sitting in an explosion of Tiffany lamps at a table too small for me when in reality you hate hot chocolate.”
“No,” I say quickly. “I love hot chocolate. I just can’t believe you remember that.”