And the most beautiful part of this beautiful scene? Alex Hernandez, smiling at me from across the weathered wooden table. Tousled hair, tawny skin, the perfect amount of five o’clock shadow shading his jawline. Somehow, he was equal parts scruffy and tailored, and it suited him.
“I have a question for you,” he said.
“Go for it.”
“Were you really meeting someone on Friday night?”
“Yes. A Fluttr date, actually.”
“Then why’d you bolt out of there so fast?” His eyes went all wide and disbelieving. “Wait a minute, did you stand him up?”
“No! I would never do that.” I ran a finger through the condensation on my water glass. I wasn’t particularly keen on rehashing how I’d been blown off by some Fluttr rando, but there was no other choice but to tell the truth. “He stood me up.”
“Ouch.” The look of pity on his face was unbearable. “Sorry.”
“It happens.” I shrugged one shoulder, trying desperately to evoke a sense of indifference. “Getting jilted is just one of many risks you take when you decide to meet a stranger from the internet.”
He chuckled. “Fluttr is the worst, isn’t it?”
“The worst.”
“I should just delete my profile. I’m convinced no one ever meets anyone worthwhile on that app.”
“Actually, one of my best friends met her boyfriend on Fluttr, and they’re pretty serious.”
“Is he a nice guy?”
“I mean, he seems nice,” I said, realizing the only things I knew about Jay were the things Lia told me about him. They’d been dating for almost three months, but I still hadn’t met him. From the photos she posted on her Instagram account, it looked like they had a genuine mutual affection. But there was always some excuse why he could never meet us for a drink: late nights at the office, last-minute emergencies, business trips that sent him out of town for days at a time. I didn’t even know what kind of job he had that kept him so busy.
What I did know was that Lia was the happiest I’d ever seen her.
“He makes her happy,” I said.
“They’re definitely one in a million. I’ve never hit it off with anyone I’ve matched with.”
I smiled in solidarity. “Me neither.”
“See what I mean? No one I know has. Which begs the question of why people keep going back for more.”
“It’s those ads on the subway. They get inside your head.”
Fluttr had recently launched a marketing campaign aimed at New York City straphangers. They featured photos of radiant couples embracing against breathtaking backdrops, like rain forests and white sand beaches. Big, bold letters across the top screamed Fluttr: Don’t Let the One Get Away.
And though I knew damn well there wasn’t some male model impatiently waiting to whisk me away on a fantasy vacation, these ads always stirred an urgency inside of me that was hard to suppress. If I wasn’t swiping through Fluttr this very instant, I might miss the man of my dreams and never see him again.
Alex nodded. “That’s true. Those ads always make me feel bummed out about being single.”
“It’s just so hard to meet people.”
“But it doesn’t seem like Fluttr is making it any easier. We have too many choices, too much information. It’s paralyzing.”
“So you think we should go back in time to the days of... What were those called? When people would print dating profiles in the newspaper?”
“Personal ads.”
“Right.”
“No,” he said, carefully. “But I feel like we don’t take the time to get to know our potential partners anymore. We spend maybe two seconds looking at someone’s picture before—” he whistled and mimicked a swiping motion, flicking his finger through the air between us “—writing them off forever. I can’t help but think we’d be better off meeting people in person.”
“Like at speed dating events.”
Alex laughed, an infectious rumble. “Maybe.”
“Or in bars.”
“Or in the office.”
After he said that, he looked right at me, biting his bottom lip like he was suppressing a smile. My stomach did a little somersault when I saw his dark eyes dancing with mischief.
Was this a date?
As I tried to discern wishful thinking from sad delusions, the server came along and placed a platter in the center of the table. “Here’s your antipasto.”
“Looks great,” Alex said.
I nodded in silent agreement and the server took off with a polite smile.
The platter did look heavenly. There were plump green olives, slick with oil. Great hunks of hard Italian cheese. Thin slices of prosciutto and thick rounds of salami. Crusty bread and crispy crackers. A dollop of jam and a honeycomb.
This was so much better than a lukewarm peanut butter sandwich.
Before I could decide which delicacy to sample first, someone behind me yelled out, “Yo!” and Alex released a string of curses under his breath. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Greg crossing the cobblestone street, headed directly toward us.
“I apologize in advance for anything he says,” Alex uttered, then gave Greg a sharp little wave.
“S’up, man?” Without asking if he could join us, Greg yanked a chair from the adjacent table and pulled it up to our tiny little two-top. “That database finished or what?”
“It should be soon.” Alex rubbed the back of his neck. “I started the build before I left. That was, like, twenty minutes ago. I’m sure by the time I get back we’ll be ready to roll.”
“Cool.” Greg reached for an olive and tossed it in his mouth, then reclined, swinging a casual arm over the back of his bistro chair. “You catch the fight last night?”
Alex threw me a feeble smile of apology. “Nope.”
“It was sick. Austin jammed Hammill with these crazy kicks to the middle, so when he fell down, I was like, okay, this shit’s over. And then out of nowhere, Hammill popped up with these hammer fists like an animal.”
As Greg went on and on about what I assumed was some sort of cage fighting match, he helped himself to a slice of baguette, piling it high with prosciutto and cheese. Alex looked on in bewilderment, before blocking Greg’s outstretched hand from grabbing the salami.
“What’re you doing?”
Greg gave him that same dopey look he’d given me last week, when he destroyed his laptop. “What?”