Her information pops up, showing me the make of her vehicle, and when she’ll be arriving.
I smirk, dab on some cologne, and head out the door.
I watch her on the map as I make my way to the elevator. With each descending floor, my hope dissipates more. Her car remains idle, unmoving in the direction it needs to go.
Reese clearly knows it's me. I mean, how could she not? I tipped her more than I’ve ever tipped anyone when she brought me home the other night. You’d think she’d be eager to be my Uber driver again. Unless she isn’t a girl who’s motivated by money. I’m not trying to buy her, though. I’m just trying to make our time together worthwhile.
I rest against the side of the apartment complex and allow a few more minutes to pass before I pull up the messages.
Me
Are you broken down? Need a hero to come rescue you?
Despite being fatherless from a very early age, I was still taught basic survival skills every man should know: how to fix a flat, how to change the oil—you know, those sorts of things. My mother made sure I was well versed in basically anything lifecould throw at me before she died. I’m well-versed in laundry and baking too.
Reese
Did you request me on purpose?
My mouth flattens.Psh. What? No.
Me
You can’t request certain drivers on the app. Must’ve just been a coincidence.
I exit the message and pull up her map again. She still isn’t moving.
Reese
Don’t you have your own car?
Me
I may have a few drinks. Can’t risk driving back, and I would rather not leave my car downtown.
Instead of waiting for her to come to me, I’ll just go to her.
There. Problem solved.
Once I’m a block away, I click on the tip I had originally given her for the last ride and edit the amount while smiling to myself.
3…2…1…
Reese
Are you bribing me to give you a ride?
How dare she assume that.
Me
What do you make on a typical night of Ubering?
I only spent a half hour with her—tops. Yet, I can picture her eyeroll as she reads my message.
Reese
Just depends. Why? Thinking of getting a side job?
